Chapter Text
~Denver, CO~
It was a dull, rainy day in Colorado. Water droplets clung to the window, the mask of ozone detectable through the cheap plexiglass. You sighed deeply, rest your head in your hands. Just three more hours left until the weekend. Seemed like it couldn't come any slower. Mrs. O, your choir teacher, was harping on about how poorly the class was doing even though they were all sitting down and she'd yet to lead a warmup all year.
You cringed as you listened to the noise of singing that was produced by your classmate, who was clear tone-deaf. Mrs. O must have seen this, because she looked at you and snarled, "Now, Y/N, let's hear you on the solo," through her laser-whitened teeth, which always struck you as odd, because they were crooked and pointy, like fangs.
You were no fool, you knew Mrs. O hated you. She was your high school choir teacher, but she acted more like she was a Broadway star with a billion dollars and twelve chihuahuas that the President gave her or something. You also knew why she had asked you to sing the top note in the Ariana Grande song your school had somehow gotten the rights to, because you sang alto in the choir. In Mrs. O's opinion, female alto 2s served no purpose in the choir, since the boys at this age already could sing the alto part, and sopranos were much better looked upon by her. Fortunately for you, your range extended from soprano 1 to alto 2, so even if your voice rested more in alto-land, you could still whip up a whistle note every now and then, and right now you needed it.
"Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you," the rest of the class chorused, sounding flat as ever.
You inhaled two counts before releasing. "No, I!" Your voice floated with the notes, the F6 several pitches higher than the original, but still clear and crisp. "So baby let's keep it secret! Ooooh ahhh ohhh!" The piano Mrs. O had playing abruptly stopped, and everyone stared at you. Your face flushed a little, thinking you'd proved your teacher wrong, when you suddenly realized that Mrs. O hadn't just stopped playing, she appeared to have stopped breathing altogether.
"Someone get the AED!" Screamed a girl.
"What the hell, Y/N?"
Your head spun, tuning out your classmates voices as you looked over Mrs. O's slumped body. You looked up, and staring back at you was a boy, outside of the window. You screamed at the top of your lungs.
"God, shut up Y/N, we don't need you to kill another one of us," you didn't answer. Your tongue felt like a 60 pound metal bar in your mouth. He was gone.
Time seemed to slow down. Not an abnormal thing for your over-acting ADHD, but something felt different.
A chubby girl ran into the room, out of breath and carrying the AED from down the hall, and a boy had shoved you aside to start CPR on Mrs. O while you had been spaced out. You sprinted out of the classroom, past your mom's classroom, shoving througha bustling mess of juvenile delinquent students eager to see the damage done. You heard your mom call your name, but you didn't answer. You had your phone in your back pocket, and you left through the fire exit, letting it ring. It didn't matter, you'd be expelled either way. Besides, there were more concerning matters to be handled- by you, of course.