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“The rest of the class was able to make it here on time, Ms. Dewinter,” Ms. Cavelli's voice was as haughty and arrogant as always. Chelsea could easily feel her dagger laced gaze piercing into her back as she walked to her seat, surprised by how much effort it was taking to not stumble about.


She wasn't even that late, the bell had rang seconds before she had come through the door but that didn't matter to Ms. Cavelli. Chelsea still had no idea what she had done to gain the young teacher's ire back when she was a freshman, but a few years had done nothing to mellow her. Ms. Cavelli stood at the head of the classroom, dressed in sharply pleated slacks, a perfectly fitting blouse, and a pair of heels that continuously clacked against the tiled floor of the school. If she didn't look so severe all the time, Chelsea would probably describe her as attractive. In fact, she knew there were more than a few boys that had had weird fantasies about the abusive teacher, so there had to be something to her.


Didn't stop her from being a bitch though. “Seeing as it is the day before spring break, I will let this slide.”


Chelsea started to roll her eyes but caught herself, knowing all too well that Cavelli always knew when she was being disrespected. Besides, Chelsea's head was already swimming from the beer she had drank. She'd never had anything so potent, it had been almost sickly sweet from the flavor of the alcohol, and left her, Liz, and Matt wobbly for most of second period. She couldn't cut Cavelli's class though, the woman would hunt her down with blood hounds, so she had taken care in arriving at the class without looking... well, buzzed.


A snicker from her right caused Chelsea to look over at some of Jenni Fitztaylor's little barbie dolls. Danielle Stockton was a tall, athletic brunette that was always plastered in designer labels. Even now, in the middle of class she had a pair of Coach sunglasses perched atop her carefully arranged hair. She was conspiring with Kelly Newman and Bryce Dickface about something. Not that Dickface was really Bryce's last name, Chelsea had just never bothered to learn it.


While Kelly was blond, and short, she too had an athletic frame, a gymnast's build to be precise, and was also in competition with Danielle for who could be the biggest walking billboard for overpriced shit. Normally every word she breathed was about how much money she had spent on a purse or pair of shoes she would never use. Though judging by the way their eyes turned toward Chelsea, she figured that this was one of the rare moments that Kelly spent talking about her.


Bryce meanwhile was like, well his name was Bryce what did his parents expect out of him? Polo shirt, Nantucket red shorts, and boat shoes. He was just a dick. A dick that was constantly trying to screw around with girls in Jenni's circle, which meant that making fun of Chelsea or her friends had become part of his daily routine the day he realized he had a penis that could go inside of vaginas.


As the trio of popular kids sniggered, Chelsea could only catch a few words. Of course, they were busily describing her as a burn out who was probably high at this very moment. Late because she was smoking weed or sucking dick for crank. Of course, it didn't matter that Chelsea's GPA was higher than theirs, because she was Queen of the Losers.


Her case also wasn't helped by the fact that she probably did look like she was out of it at that moment. Cavelli was lecturing away about something, and there was no way in hell that Chelsea could focus on it. She was starting to feel nauseous from Mikey's homebrewed beer. Her stomach quivered as she sat there, churning the overly sweet beer inside of her to a point that she was starting to feel very uncomfortable.


A few beads of sweat were starting to form on Chelsea's forehead as she sat in the class, trying to ignore the rumbling in the pit of her stomach. It was starting to feel like something was going to come out of her, one way or the other and she really didn't care to find out what it was. She knew that she had to get out of the classroom unless she wanted to be remembered as the girl who puked or worse, the girl who crapped herself. Yet, Chelsea also knew that Ms. Cavelli was loathe to be interrupted by requests to go to the bathroom, especially from her.


Gas bubbled up from her stomach causing her to nearly belch loudly. Covering the burp as best as she could, Chelsea was repulsed by how foul her own breath was. It was a smell so richly disgusting that she could actually taste it on her tongue, and instantly her gag reflex was set off as she dry heaved. Chelsea gripped her desk, trying to get control of her own body, and finding that her stomach was nearly in full revolt. “Ms. Cavelli,” she finally croaked, interrupting the teacher's lesson.


The tall woman sighed heavily, “What, Ms. Dewinter? Was there something that you don't understand?” The teacher turned to narrow her eyes at her, “Because if that is the case, I suggest that you should be paying more attention to me, rather than your phone.”


Danielle, Kelly, and Bryce all giggled at this. Their enjoyment of Cavelli's scolding going unnoticed by the teacher.


“No, Ms. Cavelli, I just,” Chelsea fought down another dry heave as she felt like her intestines were twisting about inside of themselves, “I need a pass to the bathroom.”


“Oh for Heaven's sake, Ms. Dewinter. This is class time, also known as my time. You go to the bathroom on your own time. I explained my policies at the beginning of the year, now if you'll excuse me, I am going to continue my lesson here on the Platt Amendment.”


As the teacher was about to turn around again, Chelsea couldn't fight back another dry heave, the choking noise cutting through the momentary silence of the classroom. “Please, Ms. Cavelli...” she pleaded.


For a moment the teacher paused. Her dark brown eyes obviously calculating as to whether or not this was some ploy by her least favorite student to ditch class. As Chelsea fought back another dry heave, the severe look that was always plastered across Ms. Cavelli's face seemed to soften, if only for an instant. “Fine, Ms. Dewinter, if it'll get you to be quiet when you come back. And I do expect you to come back,” Ms. Cavelli replied, quickly filling out a hall pass on a scrap of paper.


Chelsea practically launched from her seat, the churning of her stomach slowed her down significantly though. The sudden movement of getting up from her desk did not help the waves of nausea rolling over her. Fighting back the latest combination of nausea and dizziness, Chelsea moved to the front of the room, and snatched the hall pass. As the door closed behind her, she could once more hear Ms. Cavelli going on about the Platt Amendment.


The hallways were nearly empty during class time, relieving Chelsea of the embarrassment that half-running/half-waddling to the nearest Girls' Bathroom provided her. Once she reached the bathroom, she nearly threw herself into the door, knocking it open and rushing for the closest open stall. Her knees hit the ground, her hands gripped the white porcelain, and Chelsea started heaving and hacking and coughing. Saliva poured out of her mouth as her body prepared for the deluge of vomit and acid to shoot up her esophagus. She hacked and coughed and her muscles continued to spasm as they attempt to expel her stomach's contents, but nothing came.


The moment seemed to stretch into infinity as her body revolted against her, unable to calm down as it tried to vomit something that didn't exist.


There was suddenly a flash of light, and Chelsea swore she heard a low rumbling noise, like someone plucking a bass string with an amp's volume turned all the way up.


When her eyes finally cleared though, she felt fine. The nausea was gone and she no longer felt like her body was trying to shoot something from every orifice. Whatever had just happened had somehow made her feel much better. She shrugged as she reached a standing position. Maybe nothing had happened, and she had just imagined the flash of light. Fearing she might have passed out, Chelsea checked her phone, only to find a few minutes had passed.


Sliding her phone back into the big pocket of her hooded sweatshirt, Chelsea walked back out into the halls of Hayes High School. Even though she knew she could get back to class, Chelsea decided to take her time walking back. After all, the last Ms. Cavelli had seen, Chelsea had looked like she was about to vomit, so she figured an extra minute or two wouldn't be so bad.


 

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