THESE HIDDEN WINGS

[11.1] ORIGINS CLASS 521: INTRODUCTION (part-one)

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"This is Origins Class 521"

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"YOU HAVE HANDS of steel," Claire dragged, looking at me in disbelief, "honestly! My butt still hurts," she winced, glancing at her behind as we walked, a frown wedged on her face.

It was a normal reaction to being spanked, but also an exaggeration. I knew this because, whenever I shook hands with a person, they would almost always compliment how soft my hands were, so much so, that Dad had opted to cut me a small section of the Palace Gardens, to do a little gardening work, a small patch of white roses.

Mother's suggestion.

As the thought of my mother crossed my mind I frowned, wondering if she was now awake. I would have to visit her soon. Even if it had only been a day, she was someone I had never spent a day without for as long as I could remember, besides, I was yet to find those white roses I promised.

"ZA, I said" Claire mumbled from beside me as we stood before a door. She reached out to pull it mindlessly, and "It was freaking Z. A. all along. We must have looked like morons," she huffed as she walked in.

Morons were a bit of a stretch in my opinion I settled with zombies. Following after her, I couldn't help but wonder how on earth she could still be thinking about the incident from earlier, honestly, I had already labeled it as 'things that never happened' and pushed it to the back of my head.

I bumped into her frozen figure stepping back a little dazed at the hit, concern washing over me, wondering why she had frozen yet again. I was almost afraid to look up, hoping I was not met with the same Atlantic eyes, but it was much worse.

Much, much worse.

All shades of eyes were on us.

We stood there speechless before the doorway as the other students took us all in. A large man was seated on the huge oak desk, his dark brown eyes settled on us.

"I guess this is the right cycle after all," he mumbled, with a grin spread on his face, as his gaze lingered on our frozen figures.

He had an Irish accent, his beards and hair were brown, sprinkled with a gentle grey, his eyes seemed to be focused on me, and I hoped, truly hoped, we were in the right class.

"Welcome to Origins Class ladies, please take your seat."

We didn't need to be told twice, we quickly moved to the two empty seats placed side by side in the middle of the class. As a latecomer, it was practical we would get the absolute worst seats in the classroom. From the miniature inspection I took as we walked in, we were quite a few, I would round off to at most, twenty. I felt exposed in my open seat at the very heart of the class.

I had originally hoped to get a seat by the wall if we had arrived early as that might have eased the nervousness that was building inside but alas, it was not to be.

Tugging at my sleeve, I looked up, only to be locked in the brown orbs of what I assumed was the teacher, he stayed on me momentarily and I could help but feel like I had seen him before, somewhere but I couldn't put a pin on it. He moved on, doing a sweep of the classroom.

"As I was saying," he began, his tone gentle as he looked at each one of us, "It appears once again it is my turn to host Origins class. I originally thought, blast it!" he yelled, fists banging the desk. A few chuckles rose from around me after he said this.

"But now," he began his soft eyes seeming to be staring right at me, "I believe this class has more to offer."

My eyebrows hunched at these words, wondering why it felt like he was talking to me. He reached across his desk pulling a small black crutch that was leaning against it, taking hold of it as he stood up. I watched him hobble towards the blackboard taking out a piece of chalk.