The next day was quite gloomy for stella. She wasn’t particularly frightened by school but rather depressed by how fast the previous day had ended. More grueling was the text she had seen in their class group chat that morning. Anabel, the girl who always represented her class in their monthly interclass literary competition had just given up the spot to whoever was interested. Even though the girl seemed to have good reasons for doing so, Stella still couldn’t reconcile how a person could play games with the one thing they know how to do.

As she drove to school, she kept thinking about Anabel and all the glory she had brought to their class, a good way of saving her mind from dwelling on the second half of the message. Even though it all seemed like a coincidence, Stella couldn’t completely scrape off the part of her that thought it was an ambush, a well knitted plan already on its course of excecution.

Striving to avoid any form of attention, Stella made good use of the rowdiness in the class. Taking the unbecoming tardiness of Teacher David to her advantage. She tried forcing herself to read her textbook without success, then her novel, but still, no luck. Unlike the previous day, the uproar in the class was unduly lowering her anger threshold and in combination with the lack of concentration and frequent back and forth stipulation on what the early morning event could result to got her unusually angered.

She knew she had come to love reading but she wasn’t sure she was ready for any form of formal application of her newly found love. To the best of her knowledge, the joy she had for reading came from doing it at her pace, at her own convinient time. Writing! She hadn’t even thought towards that direction. What if the principal asked her to do the writing, what will she do, where would she start? To her, orals were bad but writing (creating the stories) was a nightmare!

Her heartbeat increased drastically when Teacher David finally entered the class just to inform her that the principal wanted to see her. Her guess was confirmed the moment her five minutes discussion with Teacher David and the principal was over. The worst part of the situation was that the competition this time wasn’t just a writing competition but an interschool one. The principal had insisted that she was the closest thing to a story lover the school had after Anabel, the moment she noticed that Stella was about to pass the responsibility to whomever.

The rest of the days activities were as a silhouette to Stella, she was in the deepest valley of indecision and nothing else made any sense to her. As she sat in her bath tub in her room at home, trying to ease her skin in the cool siren of a warm bath after the long exposure to cold weather, she picked up her novel to read, as usual but even the tiniest bit of concentration seemed to have flown out the window.

She couldn’t get the day’s events off her head. What baffled her most was how her entire classmates thought she was the only person that could save their school from this mess. “Stella, you are in for a deep mess” she whispered to herself as she continued with her shower.