Vivian Sterling - present
The bell rang, sharp and final, cutting through the quiet hum of my classroom. A collective groan rose from the rows of desks, students slumping dramatically in their chairs as if the sound had snatched away the very air they were breathing. It made me smile. Teenagers had a way of turning the smallest inconveniences into tragedies, and yet there was something endearing in their dramatics.
One boy in the middle row leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and sighed loud enough for everyone to hear. "Ms. Sterling, can we continue the story during lunch?"
I raised an eyebrow, tapping the edge of my desk. "No." I said firmly, though my lips curved into a half-smile. "I need to eat my food in peace for today."
The response was immediate. A chorus of groans rolled across the room, louder this time, like a wave of disappointment breaking against the walls. Some students threw their heads back against their chairs, others thumped their desks in mock protest, and a few muttered under their breath about how unfair I was being.
I laughed at their theatrics. "You'll live. Trust me. Tomorrow, at lunch, we'll continue. But today—today belongs to me."
That settled it. Reluctantly, they began to gather their things. Backpacks zipped, chairs scraped across the tile, the usual end-of-class chaos filling the air. A few students bolted immediately, rushing to make it to their second period before the hallways clogged. Others lingered, moving slower, as though dragging out every last second in hopes I'd change my mind.
One girl paused at the door, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Bye, Ms. Sterling. The next part of the story better be good."
Another chimed in with a grin"Yeah, don't let us down!"
I couldn't help but laugh, raising my voice just enough to carry across the room. "I'll continue the story at lunch tomorrow! Now go before you're late!"
Their laughter trailed out into the hallway as they disappeared, leaving me in the empty classroom. For a moment, the quiet felt heavy, almost strange after so much noise. I glanced around at the empty desks, at the sunlight spilling through the tall windows, at the little reminders of the lives that filled this space only moments ago. Then I sighed softly and turned back to my desk.
There was still a full day ahead of me.
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The next three periods moved by in a steady rhythm. I didn't assign any real work—it was the first day, after all. Instead, I let my students read. Some pulled out novels they had already started, while others went to the bookshelf at the back of the room and selected something at random. The classroom was quiet, filled only with the occasional sound of pages turning, pencils tapping, or chairs creaking as someone shifted in their seat.
It was peaceful, in its own way. A contrast to my first class, which had felt so alive with questions, eagerness, and curiosity about my story. With these later groups, I gave nothing of myself. No stories, no pieces of my past. Just books and silence. It felt safer that way.
Still, the memory of that first period lingered. The way their eyes had lit up when I spoke about Wesley. The weight of their curiosity pressing against me. It was flattering, yes, but it also stirred something deep in me a restlessness, a pull toward memories I wasn't sure I was ready to revisit.
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By the time lunch arrived, I was more than ready for the break. I carried my bag to my desk and pulled out the bowl of food I'd packed that morning simple rice, vegetables, nothing fancy. The cafeteria downstairs was loud and crowded, and I had no interest in navigating it. My classroom was quiet, mine alone, and I preferred it that way.
I ate slowly, staring out the window as the campus buzzed with movement below. Students clustered together at picnic tables, laughter spilling across the courtyard. Others lingered along the fences or leaned against walls, scrolling on their phones. The sound of it all drifted faintly upward, muffled through the glass, and for a moment I felt like I was watching a world I was no longer part of.
My gaze shifted to my phone resting beside me. I unlocked it, scrolling absentmindedly through nothing in particular, until the screen caught my attention
the time lunch was nearly over.
I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair, the weight of memory pressing into me again. For just a moment, I let myself slip back back to when I was their age, back to when school hallways were still something I dreaded, back to the first time I had seen him. Ruan.
The thought of his name alone made my chest tighten. I shook my head, exhaling softly. "Some things don't fade, do they?" I whispered.
When the clock warned me there were only a few minutes left, I pushed myself to my feet. I cleaned up my desk, tucked my empty bowl back into my bag, and straightened the papers stacked on the corner. Whatever memories had been stirring inside me would have to wait. The day wasn't over yet.
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The bell rang, signaling the start of my last period. Students drifted into the room in clusters, chatting and laughing as they settled into their seats. I stood at the front, waiting until the shuffle quieted enough for me to speak.
"Good afternoon" I said, offering a smile. "I'm Vivian Sterling. You can call me Vivian if you're comfortable, or Ms. Sterling if you prefer."
A few students chuckled, some nodding. The room settled into silence, the newness of the day still hanging in the air.
"For today" I continued "we're keeping it simple. I want you all to read something from home, something from the shelf, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow, we'll do introductions, and that's when we'll officially begin our lessons."
There were no complaints. Some students immediately pulled out books from their bags, while others made their way to the back shelves. Soon, the room filled with the same steady quiet as before, a comfort in the predictability of it.
Class went by without incident. When the final bell rang, chairs scraped back, bags were slung over shoulders, and students filed out one by one. A few paused at the door to wave goodbye.
"See you tomorrow, Ms. Sterling!"
I smiled, raising a hand in return. "See you."
Then, silence. My classroom was empty again, the last echoes of the day fading into stillness.
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I gathered my bag and stepped into the hallway. The school was alive with noise—students streaming toward the exits, voices echoing down the lockers. In the midst of it, I spotted a familiar face.
I gathered my bag and stepped into the hallway. The school was alive with noise—students streaming toward the exits, voices echoing down the lockers. On my way out, I spotted Mr. Gil, the janitor, pushing his mop bucket down the hall.
"Good afternoon" I said as I passed. "I hope today wasn't stressful."
Mr. Gil looked up from his work, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His face was lined with age, but his smile was genuine. "Good afternoon, Ms. Sterling. Stressful? Always."
I chuckled at his familiar answer. "Goodbye, Mr. Gil."
He nodded and kept pushing his bucket, the wheels squeaking softly against the floor, while I continued toward the doors.
The doors loomed ahead, and as I pushed them open, the late afternoon air rushed against me. Outside, the grounds were full of students. Some swarmed in groups, waiting for buses. Others stood alone, their eyes on the street, waiting for parents. Still others walked together toward the neighborhood beyond the gates, their backpacks bouncing against their shoulders.
I paused for a moment, taking it all in. The energy of it, the youth, the noise. So familiar, so unchanged.
A sigh slipped out before I could stop it. "Some things don't change, huh, Ruan..."
The name left my lips like a secret, carried away by the breeze. And as I walked toward the parking lot, I couldn't help but feel that the past was closer than ever—so close, it might walk through the doors with me tomorrow.