Shadows of the Heart (Slow Update)

Chapter 2 — Clueless about Everything Else

Hope’s POV

I didn’t see him again until I was thirteen years old. It was just another boring day in science class, with the teacher droning on about matter and chemical processes. I was engulfed by the monotony and found myself sketching Zane’s name in my notepad, anxious for any type of relief from the repetitive class.

After some time, I stopped paying attention to the teacher and started searching the room for something more fascinating. I noticed the rows of glass containers and tubes on the lab table as I glanced around. Suddenly, an idea came to me—an experiment that could make the boring lesson more exciting.

I concentrated on the teacher’s remarks, trying to find an opportunity to carry out my plan. Mr. Johnson was demonstrating how different liquids can separate based on their densities as he explained the notion of density. That’s when it hit me: I could do a mini-experiment to surprise my peers and bring the class back to life.

I quickly got the necessary materials: a few clear glass beakers, water, food coloring, and a tiny container of oil. I carefully put water into one beaker and added a few drops of blue food coloring to make a bright blue liquid. I poured oil into another beaker, forming a distinct layer on top.

As the lecture progressed, I waited for the ideal moment to carry out my plan. When I switched the beakers on the lab table, Mr. Johnson was still teaching the principle of buoyancy. I made certain that the blue water was placed on top of the oil layer, out of sight.

My heart raced as I watched my classmates’ gaze dart between the beakers, their boredom replaced by perplexity and curiosity. Mr. Johnson paused and looked at the arrangement after noting the strange reaction from the class. His brow wrinkled as he sought to make sense of the strange occurrence.

The class broke down into murmurs and whispers, with each student providing their own theories about what had happened. When everyone became focused on solving the riddle before them, the mood changed from drab to exciting. Even I couldn’t help but be filled with pride and enthusiasm.

The happy moment, however, was fleeting. Mr. Johnson approached the table, his attention riveted on the beakers, his demeanor a mix of wonder and sternness. He immediately recognized the switch I had set in motion, recognizing the prank that had disrupted the class.

Mr. Johnson addressed the situation, and the room fell silent. His disappointment was evident, and his voice was tinged with rebuke. My well-intentioned prank had crossed the line, transforming a boring lesson into a chaotic distraction.

“Who is responsible for this?” Mr. Johnson’s voice echoed throughout the classroom as he searched for the offender. As my classmates turned to stare at me, the weight of his disappointment pressed down on me. My wicked grin faded, replaced by a terrible feeling of guilt as I swallowed hard.

I reluctantly raised my hand, admitting my role in the prank. Mr. Johnson’s stern glare pierced through me, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. He indicated for me to approach his desk, and I made my way there with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of my deeds with each step.

As I approached Mr. Johnson, he sighed, his face relaxing somewhat. “I understand you were attempting to add some excitement to the class, but pranks like these may be harmful,” he replied calmly. “Science experiments should be carried out with care and supervision.”

“I know what I was doing; I saw a YouTube video,” I explained, my voice tinted with assurance and dread.

Mr. Johnson’s face stiffened, and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Is that a YouTube video? Is that intended to be an explanation? Are you aware of the threats you could have encountered?” His voice was gruff and authoritative, sending shivers down my spine.

“I understand your concern, but nothing awful happened,” I said, attempting to sound reassuring.

Mr. Johnson’s frustration overtook him, and his hand slammed into the table with a thunderous thud. “How dare you speak out! Why don’t you take command and teach the entire class if you think you’re so smart?”

As I strained to understand his scream, I felt a flood of perplexity. “But what function would a teacher serve if I taught the class?” My ideas poured forth, laced with puzzlement at Mr. Johnson’s rationale.

Mr. Johnson’s cheeks turned crimson as his rage reached a boiling point. His narrowed gaze penetrated through me, and I realized my words had been poorly chosen.

“Make sure your parents accompany you to school tomorrow,” he said, his words resonating with obvious authority. The weight of his command fell hard on me, filling me with dread and anxiety for the consequences that lay ahead.

I sighed as the final school bell rang, signifying the end of another dull day. My shoes echoed against the pavement as I headed homeward. My best friend, Jolene, unexpectedly caught up with me, her presence giving a spark of fire to an otherwise dull afternoon.

“What made you do that?” Jolene queried, a worried expression on her face.

“I was bored,” I said, a tinge of sorrow tugging at my conscience.

“But you shouldn’t have. Your mother has already been summoned to the school three times this month,” she chastised, her voice exasperated.

I sighed again, feeling the weight of my wicked actions fall on me. “But nothing awful has happened. My pranks have all been harmless. Mr. Johnson simply enjoys calling my parents in for a meeting.”

Jolene’s lips curved into a naughty grin as she jokingly nudged me. “You may be a master of pranks with an impeccable track record, but sometimes, my buddy, you appear dumb about everything else.”

I couldn’t help but twist my mouth and give her a silent comeback to her amusing comment. She quickly shifted the subject, her eyes shining with delight.

“Well, do you want some ice cream?” Jolene inquired, her fingers connecting with mine in a comforting manner.

“Why should I go to an ice cream shop?” I questioned, my doubt visible.

“Simon is going to be there, and he asked if you wanted to come with us. He wants to see me,” she says, her eyes bright with enthusiasm as she swings both of our hands.

In disbelief, I pointed at myself, mouthing the word “myself.” Jolene nodded, confirming my thoughts.

Without much thought, I replied, “No,” and took out my phone. It seemed prudent to use this time to find out how to deal with the vexing Mr. Johnson—my code name for him, “Badly Johnny.”

“Do you not want to go?” Jolene said, “Simon is the cutest boy in school,” in an attempt to seduce me.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think he’s cute. Perhaps you should make an appointment at the hospital to have your eyes checked,” I grumbled, my gaze inevitably landing on my brother’s name on my contacts.

As soon as I opened our w******p chat, I messaged him, hoping for a rapid response. “Do you happen to be coming home from college today, Conway?”

“But I can’t be the only one who finds him cute,” Jolene said.

“Well, maybe all of you should go to the hospital together,” I said, hoping to deflect her attention.

“Are you not going because you’re afraid your parents will scold you? Why not bring your father this time?” Jolene prodded, looking for answers.

“No,” I groaned, tired of the conversation. “I won’t be bringing either of them.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to the ice cream parlor?” Jolene inquired once again, a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

I shook my head, my attention still fixed on the screen of my phone, waiting for my brother’s response. “No.”

“He replied!” I couldn’t suppress my enthusiasm and exclaimed with a rush of exhilaration. I gave a tiny, happy hop before sitting down to read his message.

As I read the words he had written, my smile faded, and my mouth dropped open as if I was struck by lightning. “I won’t be there if you are.”