Classroom76x - 2021

The others exchanged a glance. A ripple of something—fear? anticipation?—passed through the room.

He stared at it. The students did not. They kept their eyes on their notebooks, on the board, anywhere but the clock. Then the light changed. The fluorescent hum dropped an octave, and the F-sharp became a deep, throbbing C. The air thickened, tasted of ozone and old paper. The chalkboard, clean a moment ago, began to show faint impressions—equations that weren't his, diagrams that twisted into impossible knots. classroom76x

The students filed in at the bell. They were quiet. Not the sullen quiet of teenagers forced into algebra, but the precise, attentive quiet of a congregation. There were eleven of them, ranging from a girl with purple-streaked hair and a nose ring to a boy in a pristine chess club blazer. They took their seats in a specific order, and Elias noticed the desks were not bolted down, yet none of the students ever touched another's. The others exchanged a glance

He didn't ask who. He handed out the worksheets with trembling hands. For the remaining thirty minutes, the class worked in perfect silence. When the bell rang, the students filed out without a word. Leo paused at the door. "Mr. Halbeck tried to rearrange the desks," he said quietly. "He's in the hospital. Something about his reflection moving wrong in a bathroom mirror." He stared at it

He took attendance. "Maya Chen?" Present. "Leo Torres?" Present. "Samira Jahangir?" A pause. A girl in the third row, wearing a hoodie with a faded NASA logo, raised her hand slowly. "Samira is… she's absent today, Mr. Elias."

Second hand. Jerking counter-clockwise.