The Corner Read online

  The Corner

  Shaine Lake

  Published by Shaine Lake

  Copyright©2015 by Shaine Lake

  All characters and events in this novel, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.

  Book Cover Design, Effects and Layout by Shaine Lake

  Classroom Photograph by Thomas Nemcsek (http://www.zeitfaenger.at/ https://www.flickr.com/photos/kwarz/), licensed for use under Attribution CC: creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

  Texture over Wordings by Carolyn Saxby (https://www.flickr.com/photos/lovestitchingred/)

  Scratched Texture by Elaine J Miller (https://www.flickr.com/photos/elainejmiller/)

  Both textures are licensed for use under Attribution CC: creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

  Darks Skyrim Font by DarkX ShadowX21

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Who?

  Chapter 2 What?

  Chapter 3 How?

  Chapter 4 Ghost?

  Chapter 5 Sick?

  Chapter 6 Evil?

  Chapter 7 Excuses?

  Chapter 8 Boys?

  Chapter 9 Love?

  Chapter 10 Beauty?

  Chapter 11 Fairness?

  Chapter 12 Hope?

  Chapter 13 Selflessness?

  Chapter 14 Nuisance?

  Chapter 15 Tension?

  Chapter 16 Why?

  Epilogue

  Extra Story: The Mess

  Chapter 1 Who?

  The uncertainty was tugging at my heart as I stepped into a hall the size of a football field. It was filled with girls dressed in white short-sleeved uniforms. Many were busy getting acquainted with their new classmates. There were some who seemed to know each other, and they kept to their own cliques.

  Notwithstanding the run-down state of the place, the cheery mood of the students was evident. Well, not surprising since anyone would be thrilled to enrol in Lawson Girls’ High, one of the top high schools of Accastle. I was, of course, excited about it. Getting into that school meant that I was among the students who scored at eighty-fifth percentile or higher on the nationwide examinations.

  Though I was surprised that such a prestigious school had a really outdated architecture. Scratches decorated the dull surface of the wooden flooring of the stage, and the smell of mildew clung onto the wood whose cervices were filled with dirt. The supposedly white walls were riddled with yellow stains. The base of those walls even had algae.…

  Many senior students, most probably student councillors, were standing at the head of the queues and holding up huge cards. One of those read “Class 1/5”, which meant the fifth class of first year cohort. Knowing that it was my class, I scurried to the girl with that particular card.

  She welcomed me with a big, friendly grin. “Hi there. My name is Cindy. I’ll be guiding you all through the orientation for a week. Please queue up at the end of the line.”

  I did as instructed. The moment I got to my place, an athletic-looking girl in front of me turned around to introduce herself, “Hi, I’m Mandy Williams.” Even her voice had the characteristics of distinct confidence that sporty gals usually possessed.

  She looked pleasant. I envied her toned physique, that stylish bob haircut and her dark complexion with a healthy sheen. Those made me conscious of my frail body, pale, sickly-looking skin and dull brown, shoulder-length hair whose boring look was salvaged a bit by a dark blue metal hairclip that held up the side-parted fringe.

  I answered out of politeness, “Natalie.”

  Then I turned away to observe my surroundings. I didn’t know what to say to her. According to my experiences in elementary school, it was safer for me to adhere to the conventional wisdom: the less I talked, the less people I would offend. Ruining the fresh start in my life was the last thing I wanted.

  “Where are you from?” queried Mandy who refused to give up.

  “One of those public schools …” I felt uneasy talking about it because the girls would judge me based on my background.

  After all, most of them were from those elite private schools. I had overheard my previous schoolmates talking about how snobbish the rich were … in those drama shows.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t ignore me right after knowing that. “Oh. Then you must be one of the top in your previous school?”

  I couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing. I was never good at reading people. In fact, I totally failed at it. So keeping to myself was the most fool proof method to get through school life.

  “Yes,” I mumbled while wishing that she stopped probing into my privacy.

  Good thing that a tall pretty girl, whose silky blond hair was tied up into a ponytail, joined the queue behind me. She wore a tag that had the name “Kelly Adams” written on it. Mandy immediately greeted her with zest. The two hit it off very well and went on to discuss about their favourite extracurricular activities. All the yakking about sports were getting on my nerves. I was never good at sports, and others’ enthusiasm in those made me feel so … weak.

  “How could you miss the ball? It was right in front of you! What a dummy. You embarrass the whole team. And Zain was watching … argh!”

  I had actually stood there like a dummy, not retaliating once as the insults were hurled at me. I didn’t even cry to gain some sympathy. But who in the world wanted to earn the nickname “cry-baby”? On the hindsight, at least Mandy and Kelly were talking about sports instead of boys.

  Boys are bad news.

  Seemed like enrolling in a girls’ school was the right choice for me.

  Not wanting to hinder their conversation, I gradually eased out of the spot between them to stand behind Kelly. While looking around the hall, I saw an old, thin woman tottering down the hall, with a bunch of teachers following behind. White hair, thin papery skin and wrinkled face—her appearance could rival that of the hundred-fifty-year-old school building in terms of advancement in age.

  She should be the principal. The old lady did have an air of authority around her, but she looked like a nice, amicable person. When passing by Class 1/1 and Class 1/2, she flashed an angelic smile that could melt a jaded student’s heart.

  However, when she reached Class 1/3, that beam faded a little. After that, she didn’t even bother to take a glance at the rest of the freshmen and headed straight to the podium.

  Oh, so only the best among the best deserved undivided attention?

  I didn’t feel good about that at all. I used to be one of the top students in my elementary school. No matter how much the teachers and students hated me, I always had my results to validate my existence. Those grades couldn’t be affected by the prejudice of anyone. They were real and solid proof of my worth. However, I just realized that I was only average in my high school.

  Was I of any value in that place? Obviously, that kind of principal thought that I was of none.

  I must say that she was one nagging old hag. Her speech was humdrum; I knew it the second she introduced herself as Mrs. Olsen and went on to boast about her personal achievements and her husband’s. She kept on repeating the same old stuff about how awesome her school was, especially under her management. The differences between each segment of the ego-stroking talk were the phrases used.

  Geez, she was like a walking thesaurus!

  By the time she had finished her blabbering, fifteen minutes of my time was wasted on listening to her. I did doze off during the rest of her speech, so my forty-five minutes were considered to have
been utilized for a good purpose.

  Then our respective student councillors ushered us to the sloped grass patch beside the open-air car park to watch the welcoming ceremony. We were informed that the performances would take place at the clearing in the centre of the car park. The cars were parked at the sides, along the length of the area.

  The loud speakers attached to each side of the main entrance began to blast out a blaring music that I suspected to be one of those that induced patriotic feelings. I thought I had heard it before in one of those documentary shows.

  “This sounds like the national anthem of a Communist state,” whispered Kelly as she leaned towards Mandy.

  Mandy made a small nod while trying to stifle her giggles. I almost laughed when I overheard Kelly’s remark. The irony was that we weren’t equal in the eyes of the principal.

  As the “grand” music continued, twenty girls in dark blue uniforms marched out to the car park to perform their drilling exercise. After that performance, various uniformed groups took turns to present their portion of the show. The excited Mandy and Kelly—their expressions were too obvious, to the extent where even I could decipher them—were discussing which group to join. The main thing on my mind was the counting down to the end of the ceremony. My legs were aching from the standing. Even a short interval for us to sit on the floor would be much appreciated.

  Following the ceremony was a tour around the school. Despite the obvious signs of aging and decay, the place was kept neat and clean. Though that was probably the only merit of the physical aspects of the building.

  Beforehand, I had wondered if the car park was an appropriate venue to hold the welcoming ceremony. As the end of the tour neared, I gathered that the car park was the only area huge enough to hold a medium-scale event. The school compound was only made up of classrooms, dark corridors, main hall, canteen, library, restrooms, the car park and few miniature gardens populated with dry, yellowish grasses and withering potted plants.

  When the tiring orientation was done with, we had our lunch break. I kept myself busy with my sandwiches, eating at a slow pace on purpose so as to avoid engaging in conversation with anyone. After the thirty minutes recess, we got to finally make our way to our classrooms.

  The second the creaky, yellowish blue wooden door was pushed open, a mouldy stench hit my nose. When I peeked into my classroom, I knew that the sources of that horrible smell were the rotting wooden tables in there. They could be older than me.

  Why were the tables used in Class 1/1 to Class 1/3 different from ours?

  I passed by their classrooms and caught glimpses of those nice, new furniture. Alas, my assumption that ours would be the same.…

  Mandy tried to look positive and upbeat, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment and disgust in her eyes. Kelly didn’t mince her words when complaining about how bad the facilities were.

  Cindy ignored our downcast mood and announced in a cheerful voice, “Your names were written on each sticker pasted on the corner of your tables. So go ahead and find your seats.”

  My classmates began to file into the room in an orderly manner, and I followed suit.

  It was then I saw her, a girl in school uniform, standing at the corner furthest away from the door: a spot shrouded by an impenetrable darkness. Her waist-length, tar-like hair pulsed, subtly. Was it due to the wind? But those windows with smudged panels were closed. And those reddish brown streaks running down the walls at that corner—they looked like blood.

  She was facing the sharp angle where the perpendicular walls met. Unfazed by the buzzing activity and the noise generated by the students, she didn’t move once.

  Who was she?

  Chapter 2 What?

  All the questions filled my brain.

  What was she doing there? A kind of punishment by the teacher? But that was so weird. Any normal person would try to check out what was going on amid the commotion.

  Strange that my classmates paid no heed to her. Didn’t they see her?

  A gritty wave of coldness crept across my skin as I pondered over another possibility: she wasn’t a human....

  “Only a ghost wants to befriend someone like you.”

  A ghost? Vengeful or friendly? A corpse? An alien? What was she?

  I stood frozen at the door, not daring to move as the girls brushed past me, one by one, to find their tables. After everyone had gotten to their respective seats and was settling down, it dawned upon me that there was only one empty seat left—mine, and it was located right in front of the standing girl.…

  I didn’t want to sit there.

  Cindy took a quick glance at my name tag before asking, “Natalie. Are you okay?”

  I had no idea on how to look at her in the face and tell her the truth.

  What if I was seeing things only? Who would believe me? Would they mock at me? Would I be ostracized again? How was I going to make it through the rest of my high school days as a laughing stock?

  Deciding not to mention my sighting, I shook my head and forced myself to walk towards that corner.

  And there she was, still not moving, staring at the walls with an unnatural devotion. I wondered if she would suddenly spin around to stare at me.

  It was okay. She wasn’t doing anything. I would be fine. I just had to pretend that I couldn’t see her.

  In spite of the tons of assurances I had come up with, that coldness was drilling into my skin. I bowed down my head in order to keep that girl out of my sight. The nearer I got to my seat, the further that coldness had tunnelled into my flesh.

  By the time I had reached my seat, my limbs had gone numb from the coldness invading them. Stinging sensations were assaulting my eyes as I tried to fight back the tears.

  I couldn’t let them know. I was all alone in facing that. I couldn’t crumble.

  “Argh!” a classmate screamed, sending me into panic mode.

  “What? What?” I scanned the classroom in frenzy.

  “Eeks, it’s filled with termites. And there’s a nest underneath!” remarked Kelly who had rushed up to check the bug infested table.

  “Relax, everything’s fine,” chirped Mandy, smiling at me. She was seated diagonally to my place.

  A student turned to look at Mandy. “Not really. If there’s a termite infestation in one spot, most probably the whole place have been affected. They’re very effective in multiplying and expanding their territories.”

  A bunch of girls grimaced and stepped away from their own tables. Some went up to that particular table to analyse if those creepy crawlies were, in fact, termites.

  “I get a table from another class,” remarked Cindy before heading to Class 1/1.

  That sounded like a blessing in disguise for the girl who had ended up with the termite-ridden table.

  Glad to be distracted by the bugs’ incident, I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to sit down, not concerning myself with the girls’ active extermination of those insects. Then the corner of my eye caught the standing girl’s head whirling back to stare at the wall.

  Was she looking at me?

  It would be better if I didn’t know the answer. I tried to keep my mind blank, not thinking of anything.

  Soon, the form teacher came into the classroom and was prompt in advising on the corrective actions to be taken. Kelly and another two girls went on to push that decomposing furniture out to the corridor to be taken care of by the janitor.

  I wanted to help but was afraid to do so.

  “Get your hands off my stuff. Your clumsiness only makes things worse!”

  They didn’t need me to mess things up anyway. My past encounters had taught me well on the importance of not poking my nose into others’ matters. Otherwise, it just brought embarrassment onto myself.

  The teacher gave a short introduction of herself before getting down to business. The same went for the other teachers. The educators there were more into reciting what were written in the textbooks, rather than caring about whether we were listening
. I guessed it was because they had assumed that we could figure things out by ourselves. High possibility that they wouldn’t throw a hissy fit when they caught me sleeping during class, unlike my previous teachers.

  However, throughout the entire day, I couldn’t concentrate on the lessons, nor could I fall asleep like I usually did. The presence of that strange girl could be felt every second. At least, I couldn’t see her from my sitting position. Yet I was bugged by a constant fear of that girl coming up to me.

  Needless to say, I rushed out of the classroom the second the bell rang.

  When Mandy bade farewell to me, I hastily responded, “Bye!” I didn’t even make an effort to look at her when I said that.

  During the forty-five-minute bus trip to home, I was searching for a reason to explain why I was the only one who could see that strange girl. Was there a way to eliminate my ghost eye? Even in the crowded bus, I felt alone. There was no one there to help me.

  Words couldn’t describe the relief I felt when I reached home in the late afternoon—to be back in my safe, familiar den where there was no strangers … or strange happenings. I chose to lie to mum and dad, telling them that I had a great time in school. I was officially a teenager already, thus I needed to be independent and handled the problems by myself.

  After a nice relaxing shower, I spent an hour to read up on the history of Sixteen Kingdoms on my computer. Dinnertime was next—home cooked food was the best, and I felt really uncomfortable dining in those eateries, in front of so many unfamiliar faces. Then I headed back to my bedroom to finish up my homework for the day. When all was done, it was time to hit the sack. I was so bummed out from the stressful day.

  While lying on my bed, I felt something feathery brushing against my nose. I ignored it, hoping that the ticklish feeling would go off so that I could drift back into dreamland. The brushing persisted. In irritation, my eyes snapped open to see what was bothering me.

  Long hair was dangling right above my face. A girl, whose face was obscured by her mane, was staring down at me.