He grabs my hand like he did last week—it might even be at the same time if I remembered— and pulls me across the hallway stained with the cafeteria's red sauce that students have been spilling for ages, and into what he calls "our place." This place; however, could be farther from our possession as adulthood is. The abandoned broom closet that none of the janitors bother to use anymore (this is evident from the state of our deflating school) still has the smell of smoke from the one time we set a cleaning cart on fire.
"Mrs. Krone has been eating the students who get on her bad side," He whispers and I almost laugh out loud. I throw my head back instead, showing how preposterous even the idea is.
"Rae, I know you don't like her but she doesn't eat students."
"I'm telling you!"
"Besides, everyone is on her bad side. You've known me for almost three years, you know this won't frighten me."
"I'm not trying to frighten you! I'm serious!" Rae keeps insisting, but I can't even imagine how he came to the conclusion that this was real. Mrs. Krone is a real mean teacher who thinks going back to the "old ways" would improve the declining state of our education system. But eating children? No, that's too far.
"If you don't actually have anything of importance, I'm going to get my lunch." He starts to say something, but I close the door on him. Standing right outside the closet, is Mrs. Krone. Her smile looks like it has reached all the way to her bushy, brown eyebrows, and her manly hands reach for me as she lets out a laugh, deep in her throat, that sounds like a Kookaburra. I skid away from her, and race down the compressing, red hallway trying not to let stupid idealizations get in my head. Even though I hate to admit it, I'm not fearless.
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