An Unknown Classroom

The echo of her voice still clawed at my skull when the world dissolved. The park. The flickering streetlights. The night air. All blurred into static. Then—nothing. Emptiness that sucked the air from my lungs.

I blinked.

Not my room. Not the park. A classroom.

Murmurs buzzed like wasps. Kids I didn't recognize—laughing, slamming lockers, doodling in notebooks. Sunlight stabbed through dusty windows, painting everything piss-yellow.

Not my high school. Not the one I remembered.

My hands? Still mine. But the uniform—scratchy polyester, wrong colors. Real. Too real.

Why here?

A voice cut through the noise. "Settle down."

The teacher—late 30s, smile like a butter knife—leaned against the door. — We've got a new student today. —

I stood on autopilot. The room reeked of pencil shavings and Axe body spray.

— Introduce yourself, — she said, too gently.

My brain flatlined. Lie? Truth? Name? What name?

— Ethan — The word fell out, rotten. — Nice to… meet you? —

Silence. Then snickers.

Ethan. A name. A bomb.

Whispers slithered through the room. Eyes stabbed at me—curious, hungry. Not awkward. Anticipation.

— Welcome, Ethan, — the teacher said, smile sugary-sweet. — Sit wherever. —

I sat. Brain? A tornado.

Why "new student"? Why this school?

Never switched schools as a kid. Never. But here? Proof.

Class dragged. Kids blurred into noise. This wasn't my world. Needed to move. To find her.

Bell screamed. Herd stampeded out. Two lingered by my desk—strangers, but… familiar.

— Ethan, right? — Tall kid, black hair, smirk like a dare. Daniel. — You transfer? —

— Yeah, — I said, voice sandpaper.

Glasses kid nodded. — Makes sense. Never seen you. — Andrés, he said.

Normally? Small talk. Now? Every word felt like a landmine.

— Wanna hit the courtyard? — Daniel asked, already halfway out the door.

I paused. Play along… or dig for her.

— Nah. Got something to handle, — I said, forcing a shrug.

They left. No pushback.

Find her.

I bolted into the hall. School stretched—too big, too bright. Glass walls glared. Gym stank of sweat. Stairs coiled like snakes.

Voices swarmed—laughs, shouts, gossip. None hers

I scanned faces. Every girl. Every shadow.

Nothing.

The bell screeched. Back to class. Teacher scribbled equations. Kids slumped at desks.

I sat. Stared.

Why this school?

Eyes crawled over the room. Some faces… almost familiar. Like déjà vu on fast-forward.

My fists clenched.

Wrong. All wrong.

The clock ticked louder. A bomb counting down.

Class dragged. My brain? Miles away.

Then—I felt it.

A presence. Like eyes drilling into my skull.

Slowly, I turned to the window. In the glass reflection—a shadow. Sitting among the kids.

But when I whipped around—nothing.

Am I hallucinating?

The room buzzed—normal. Too normal. Bell screamed.

— Break time! — the teacher chirped.

Kids stampeded out. I stayed frozen.

If this is a dream… there are rules. And I'm breaking them.

Scanned the room. Memorized faces. Some… almost familiar. Not from real life. From… somewhere else. Memories colliding.

A kid shuffled over—glasses, buzzcut, smile like a loaded gun.

— Weird you transferred now, — he said. — Thought you'd stick it out till summer. —

I blanked. — Stuff… just happened. —

He nodded, but his eyes sharpened—hungry for details. Before he could dig, another kid yelled his name. He left.

I exhaled.

Not just a new school. Fake memories too.

Grabbed my notebook. Flipped it open.

Ice down my spine.

Pages filled with my handwriting—but not mine. Scraps of panic:

Don't forget what matters.

Something's shifting.

If she vanishes, do I vanish too?

Slammed it shut. Bolted into the hall.

I need to find her.

Didn't care how. Didn't care where.

Her absence? A grenade with the pin pulled.

This dream was rewriting itself.

And if it was…

She's here. Somewhere.

So I need to find her before this dream turns to ash.