It was an ordinary day at Wellspring High. Mrs Burgess still had her eye patch, though it was thoroughly black after a second day of wear, and her iron gray hair was not perfectly smooth anymore. Today's homeroom seemed to be even more muddled than usual, but all the right topics were at least touched on. There was supposed to be a huge charity bake sale at the end of the month, and Mrs Amelia vaguely reminded the students to donate.
"Charity is the balm of the soul: It soothes the heart and mind, and chases back the burning of hell." the middle-aged teacher admonished almost gently. She gave a careless gesture when the bell rang, and many of the students got to go to the other classes, such as the cooking class Ms Theo was due to start.
The student council was also supposed to meet to discuss the bake sale, and were exempt from other classes for the period. Mercy smiled and rolled her eyes, gathering up the papers that they would need for getting started on the actual mechanics of the bake sale. It wasn't like the class vice-president could count on anyone else (such as Ms. President Betty), to pitch in.
Mercy would be stopped in the hallway on the way to the council office by none other than Principal Ellis. After all, he had no classes to teach, and so could involve himself in the details of the bake sale. The tall man wore one of his signature cobalt blue suits as he loomed over the slender teen and asked for details. The temperature was dropping in the hallway, meaning Mercy would soon be shivering and wide-eyed as she stammered out what she knew.
Meanwhile, one of the senior cooking classes would be heating up with Ms Theo grinning ferally over the array of stoves and ovens that the students would be using to make various dishes hopefully well enough to be served with lunch.
Mr. Calhoun's sophomore science class would be tackling the theory of radio waves. Which was relatively safe for one of Calhoun's projects, and likely didn't involve burns or cuts. Though an electrical shock was possible when they would start building their own rigs, not likely on that particular day.
The juniors were meant to study drama with Miss Blanchard. It was to find out who would actually participate in the play they were slated to put on later in the year: a mystery by Agatha Christie. The lively teacher would be laughing and flitting about the auditorium to encourage groups of students to practice the dialog and extort extensive emoting.
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