Another day opening up the school’s front door to sit down for eight hours while Old Mr. Clark talked about the French Revolution and tell outdated jokes and say “History can repeat itself.” But something was different today. It felt different. Walking up to the doors, Anne heard something behind her.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
She stopped right in front of the door and it stopped. She turned around, wondering if it was someone she could hold the door for, but when she did, no one was there. She scanned her keycard to get in the building.
Beep.
She walked in and pulled off her hat, bringing static to her hair.
Beep.
She turned around. No one was there. The door didn’t even open. She couldn’t feel the winter air as it came in. Anne shakes the thought from her head of someone following her. It was just going to be a normal day.
The noisy chatter of her schoolmates was filling the cafeteria at breakfast. Anne sat with that one kid she sat with every morning. They weren’t friends, not really. The kid just sat there on his computer and laughed at videos online. Today he was watching a cartoon hippo dance to the Macarena.
“Ha ha,” he laughed, ignoring Anne while she had the school’s scrambled eggs.
Ha ha.
She looked up, hearing the exact same laugh. The boy wasn’t laughing anymore. He was covering his mouth as he saw the big finale. Anne finished her breakfast when she heard:
Crash!
One of the daily bullies tripped a kid by the garbage can, making him drop his tray and silverware. Anne watched and heard another:
Crash!
She searched the whole cafeteria for anyone else who had fallen, but everyone was sitting or walking perfectly fine.
Anne forgot about it as she went to class, hearing numerous locker doors slam shut.
Slam! Slam! Slam!
Yes, this is just a normal day. Everyone rushing to class, bumping into her, ignoring her. She was unseen just like everybody else. She’d forget the feeling. In twenty years when she’s all grown up, married with three kids (that’s what her friend’s cootie-catcher told her), she won’t remember this place at all. She’d forget her teachers, her classmates, her locker number, 347.
Anne got shoved into the lockers again in the same spot with a loud CRASH! as on of the football players hurried to third period.
Anne brushed it off and kept walking, hearing another CRASH! She looked around and no one was there. The halls were practically bare. She could have sworn though, if swearing was allowed, that she saw someone for just a second being slammed into the locker doors right were she was.
But there was no one there.
Anne ran to class. She was late again. Only by two seconds. The teacher still made a fuss after the bell rang. “Sorry.”
Anne took her seat and heard a ringing in her ear. It sounded like the bell. Then she heard a faint “Sorry.”
It was weird, but she was probably just imagining things. Seeing the same thing everyday does lead people to think of other things. Anne listened to the lesson best she could before she got bored. Then she zoned in and out, looking at other people’s notes when she had no idea what the teacher was saying.
Then all of a sudden, Anne started seeing things again.
Bunk!
“Ha ha! Nerd!” People were laughing, but it wasn’t the people Anne knew. Everyone looked different, at least she thought. She’s never really noticed her classmates before. But she knew these weren’t them because two kids were up front by the chalkboard, which she could have sworn was a whiteboard earlier. One kid was shoving the other into the chalkboard and calling him names, pressing the poor kids face into the chalk markings and using him as an eraser.
Where was the teacher?
Ring!
Another ring and just as Anne saw a teacher walk in, her whole class was walking out.
Her class was over.
“Pay attention next time, Miss Mortimer.”
Anne nodded and walked out the door as soon as possible. That was weird, and not just the vision, but the teacher calling her Mortimer because last time she checked, she was Anne Downing.
Lunch seemed the same but Anne could still feel chills down her back. What was going on with her today? Things she did were repeating themselves it felt like. She walks through the front door every morning and never before has she heard two beeps, and she zones out every day in science and she’s never seen a guy be used as an eraser. No one else seemed to notice things were repeating themselves. Maybe Old Mr. Clark was on to something everyday. History seems to be repeating itself.
Those kids Anne saw in third period. They weren’t at this school. At least not now. They were dressed in clothes Anne would see in her mom’s yearbook. And the classes did used to have chalkboards before they were replaced with white boards a few years ago. Maybe Anne was time traveling. Either way. There was bullying then and there’s bullying now. People walk in, they ignore each other, and then they walk right back out. They do the same thing everyday and no one bothers to change anything.
Crash!
Another bully pushes another kid to the floor again. Anne was going to let this go on anymore. If no one changes things now, it might never change.
“Hey!
  “Hey!
   “Hey!”
    “Hey!
Anne stormed up to the bully and pushed him back, hearing her voice ring out. It was time for change.
“How do you like being pushed?” Anne spat and tuned to help the poor kid on the floor up.
She didn’t expect the whole cafeteria to applaud and they didn’t. They went on with their day, giving the bully weird glances, wondering what would happen next.
Anne smiled at the kid she helped. If she forgets about school in twenty years, she hopes she remembers this. This is how she wants to be remembered. Not the person who let it happen or did it.
History repeats itself.
  But today…
   Anne change it.