Chapter Text
Iris West - saying her name felt like fire on his tongue - so he didn’t.
Time sped up again as she took her seat in the front row, placing her laptop on the beige desk.
Barry's eyes snapped forward towards the whiteboard despite there being no teacher. Truthfully, he was grateful that Ms.Bellows was always late (she claims it's because the coffee machine in the teacher's lounge is broken, but in reality, it's probably because she can't figure out how to use it).
He couldn't bear to look at Iris. Not in some cliché way, like her beauty was simply too blinding for the mortal eye, but more so, because it pained him to look at her, but he did anyway.
Her hair was tied up in a loose bun as if she rushed to do it, her oversized green sweater donned black stripes, her grey sweatpants adorned with a ram on the side. Quite frankly, it looked as if she had rolled out of bed and come right to school. Now that he thought about it, Wally rarely walked to school with him, opting to drive his sister like the "good brother" he was, according to him. Bags sat sullenly under her crescent moon eyes as if she hadn't slept. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Fighting against everything in him that told him not to, Barry leaned over.
Before he had a chance to speak, Linda Park rushed into the room, taking the seat directly behind Iris, smiling sweetly at her as she tapped her on her shoulder.
"Girl, it should be illegal to look this good at 11 am, when are you gonna let me in on your skincare routine? I'm tired of waiting!"
'Thanks, Linda, maybe once you agree to try out for the squad. I mean, I've only been asking you for the last three years or so,' Iris smiled; it didn't meet her eyes.
Linda didn't seem to notice; in fact, Linda didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong with Iris.
And as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear slightly meeting his gaze, it seems she didn't want her (or anyone for that matter) to either.
As if on cue, Ms. Bellows made her way into the classroom.
"My apologies class, the coffee machine in the break room still seems to be broken. Please take out your copies of Hamlet, if I remember correctly, we're on Act 4 coming up on scene five. At this point in the play, Ophelia becomes quite a prominent character due to losing her grasp on reality. Some critics believe that her slow descent into madness stems from the loss of her relationship with Hamlet. Although this isn't outrightly stated in the text, it very well seems that it could be true. Of course, there are also some other factors, with that being said, let's continue," Ms. Bellows says as she looks up from her copy of the play.
"Mr. Allen, why don't you start us off, you've been awfully quiet these past couple weeks. You're reading the parts of Gentleman, and Horatio, you can begin there. Ms. Park, why don't you read for Gertrude."
Barry nodded slowly and cleared his throat "She speaks much of her father, says she hears. There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt that carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing yet the unshaped use of it doth move. The hearers to collection. They aim at it,and botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,Indeed would make one think there might be thought. Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew. Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds."
Linda chimed in, putting on a slight British accent for dramatic effect. Despite being heavily invested in the school's theater program, her reluctance to share the spotlight made Barry say a silent prayer that she'd never find her way to the upcoming auditions.
'Let her come in. To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is). Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss. So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.'
There was a pause after Linda finished her lines. The script indicated that Ophelia was to enter the scene. Ms. Bellows had yet to choose someone from the class to read for her.
"Oh, I almost forgot (which is quite ironic if you think about it). Ms. West, since you wrote so elegantly about Ophelia's struggle in your recent essay, why don't you read for her today?"
Iris looked up at her, apprehensive, but continued nonetheless 'Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? How now, Ophelia?"
"Oh shoot, sorry that wasn't my line," Iris said bashfully.
Ms. Bellows laughed, 'If you hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have noticed, and I've read this play almost 30 times (wow, I really need to get some new material), please continue.'
"How should I your true love know from another one?"
………….
Time soon caught up with them, with only five minutes left to spare, Ms. Bellows encouraged everyone to begin packing up for the evening.
The sound of books closing and bags opening filled the room. Barry got up swiftly, accidentally knocking over his things. Grumbling to himself, he leaned over to pick them up when suddenly Hamlet appeared in his hands.
'Here,' Iris said with finality and a clear indication that there was no need for a response.
Barry stammered, unable to process exactly what was going on. Despite this, as usual, Barry spoke before he had a chance to think, "Are you uh, are you okay. You just seemed a little sad, and I know it's none of my business but-"
'You're right, it isn't any of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, Bartholomew, some of us are actually trying to get an education and not actively gunning for a roll in the ensemble cast of the eighth run of Mamma Mia on Broadway. I can take care of myself. Clearly, you've got some work to do, she said, glancing towards the exit.
A few students snickered in the background.
Outside stood Oliver Queen, dangling a pair of earphones in his hands as he leaned smugly against the doorframe.
"You're lucky, Nora is my favorite Aunt."
Barry sighed, he didn't have to heart to brazenly tell him that she was his only Aunt. He also didn't have the heart to tell Iris that Mamma Mia ended its Broadway run in 2015.
He watched as she and a couple of other students easily bypassed Oliver.
Barry slowly made his way toward his cousin, as he did, he couldn't help but stare at the play's cover.
Ophelia laid still in the rippling water as a crown of flowers sat sweetly on her golden hair that cascaded around her. Her arm was outstretched as if she was waiting for someone to save her. If only she had reached just a little further towards the branch that hung above her hand, maybe she could have saved herself.