Project: Death for Classroom Zero

Chapter 27: Owl

Tristan could not easily process the things that Rain said to the group. 

She had someone she was planning to include in the alliance of the group, but she never consulted anyone, not to tell them about it in any small, or subtle way. He looked dumb, to be honest. Knowing that he contemplated and asked for opinion about Caspian joining the group (though he was sure, in some sort, that he can be trusted) while Rain did not even tell them about the appearance of Blaze, he felt he was dumb: someone who needs to seek approval to his decision from his parents first before he could actually, finally do what he wants to do.

“Nice meeting you all. I hope we can be good friends. And ally.” Blaze’s smile was charismatic and sparkling. The crinkling of the under of his eyes had even added to the bewitching beauty he had. 

“Nice meeting you, man! Woah, I’ve got to agree with this Amara girl here. Lucky to have three handsome guys inside the group.” 

“Four,” Amara corrected. She looked at Caspian and smiled. 

“Alright, four. Let’s add Mr. ‘was’ Bully,” Timmy agreed, dismissing the argument.

“Hey, is it alright? I don’t have any group yet. I’m uh… no one’s getting me as part of their alliance. They say I’m too annoying. That’s why they’re not having me.”  

“Which is true,” Rain whispered, which Tristan heard.

“I heard that!” Amara pointed at Rain and glared at her. Accepting the challenge, Rain gazed back to her. Soon, Amara admitted defeat and raised white flag to their staring competition. 

“Misunderstanding inside a group is not an ideal thing, Rain. If you want a peaceful group, then let’s try not having misunderstandings or any childish quarrels inside the group.” It was Tristan who interfered with the current commotion between Amara and Rain. Having himself looking at the front, on the calligraphic writings on the chalkboard, he said his opinion. 

“She’s not part of the group, Tristan,” said Rain. 

Tristan’s gaze fell and met Rain's eyes. “She is. I’m giving permission.” 

Hearing Tristan, Amara gasped. Because of excitement, she hugged Tristan, not even feeling the tension arising inside the group. 

While Amara was hugging him, Tristan had initiated another staring contest towards Rain. But this time, Rain was defeated. She was at the very beginning, flustered from Tristan’s sudden change of attitude. She must be surprised that an apprehensive gentleman could have a stare that resembles a hungry wolf in the forest. A raging and frightening stare that is enclosed in frigid, calm eyes. 

Like the calmness in the eye of the storm. 

“J—Just take full responsibility if she did something hilarious,” Rain said, and dismissed the staring competition that she doesn’t want to have anymore. 

“N—Nice meeting you, Amara, Blaze.” To cut off the fire that was brewing, Tammy Cruz welcomed the two, despite being anxious from them and from the growing members of the group.

“You’re twins, right?” Amara asked with sparkling eyes. 

“Was it not obvious?” Timmy asked bluntly. 

“It was! Oh my gosh, seeing identical twins is rare these days!” Amara, not just naïve, but also energetic, said. 

“Thank you. You’re beautiful, Amara,” said Tammy. She then looked at Blaze. “You too, Blaze. Glad that you’re part of our group.” 

Blaze smiled, and complimented Both Tammy and Timmy about their looks. The other group members started chatting with each other and exchanging few of their information so that they could know each other more. 

At that time, Rain and Tristan were silent. They were not joining the conversation. 

It hadn’t took half an hour later when Professor Josefina entered the class. Just like her usual mood, Professor Buenaventura walked into the classroom with a weird curve of smile displayed on her face. She was wearing a silky red dress covered with glistens of crystals as she sultrily walked towards the center of the room, near the table. Her lips were fiery in red. 

“Good morning, class,” she greeted. He combed her hair towards the front, near her shoulders. “I am glad that you have finally made an adjustment here in Class Zero. It has just been three days since you came here, but look at you, almost all have adjusted and accepted the fact that you are … sitting on the river of hell.” 

The class, once again, fell into the pit of silence. 

Seeing the class once again shifting in uncomfort, Professor Buenaventura shrugged her shoulders while pouting her flaming lips. “Well, I am just here to remind you about that. No need to be too serious. You know, take your life and live to its fullest. While you’re still living.”

She turned her back to them, grabbed a stick of chalk from the box on the table, and started scrambling something on the board. 

From the group of students, Tristan heard sneaky whispers of laughter. Being curious, he looked at the surroundings to find where it came from. His stare landed on Caspian. He was sitting silently on his chair, beside Seven. His arms were crossed on his chest as he looked in front, probably towards what Professor Buenaventura was writing on the board. 

He was about to leave his stare to Caspian, but when a white thing flew towards him, he quickly followed its source. His investigation landed on the group of the bullies on the other side of the room. They were restrictedly laughing as they threw small wet pieces of paper at Caspian. 

Surprisingly, Caspian never scowled at them, nor showed any signs of anger to the group. Calmly, he just continued watching professor Buenavista. Sadly, a once bully was now the one being bullied.

It was always a big problem in school, Tristan thought. Wherever you go, whatever setup a school have, there will always be cases of bullying inside. Tristan was just glad that Caspian was not returning back the grave treatment of his once-upon-a-time friends. 

“Do you know the urban story about a teacher who have an eye on the back of her head?” out of nowhere, Professor Buenaventura said. 

The bullies quickly stopped, and sat back calmly on their seats. Tristan immediately arranged himself as well. Everyone inside the class stopped everything they were doing, and frighteningly stared at their professor. 

Tristan swallowed the lump  on his throat. With courage, he looked at their professor. Particularly at the back of her head. Focusing his eyes, he intently looked at her silk-black hair, to check if indeed, there was an eye staring from the back of her head. 

The professor laughed. 

“Of course, I don’t have!” 

Hearing the joke of the professor, the students sighed, relieved that there was nothing peculiar or horrible at the back of the professor’s head. 

But when a cracking sound appeared—like the sound of crashing bones—Tristan looked back at their professor. 

He tightly gripped the corner-edge of his armrest. Paled. 

Seconds later, when the students saw professor Buenaventura’s face, they all fell back into horror. Some of them froze, as if they stopped functioning. Some of them, especially those girls at the front seat, screamed loudly. 

Professor Buenaventura’s neck was writhed. Like a twisted wet face towel being dried out of water. But hers was blood. Her smile is an intoxication of fear towards Tristan’s chest. Her head  partially tilted—and totally disorganized. Tristan almost want to scream as the professor was trying to mimic an animal that can totally spin its neck around three-hundred sixty degrees. 

“But I am like an owl. I can twist my neck and look at the sly things you’re doing,” she said. “so beware. And behave, Class.”