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Not long after the fifteen year old had entered the classroom, Sammy had followed in and sat somewhere away from his cousin. She frowned across the room at him hoping that he’d take a message. Her glaring was soon interrupted by the appearance of Eden who had sat on the pillow between Layla and for the first time the fifth year had noticed her, Clara. She made her greeting and started asking a question but the professor had started talking before she could answer.
Layla didn’t get what all this snapping and praising business was all about but she found it pretty pathetic and sickly and girly for her liking. Although she was incredibly sporty, Layla could be pretty girly herself but nothing like this professor. No. This was her worst nightmare. She didn’t join in with any of the snapping because quite frankly she didn’t want to look like a fool. Instead she stared at the blonde bombshell at the front of the room and listened to her words entirely disinterested.
If there was one thing that she could be certain of right now it would be that she wouldn’t be enjoying this subject in the slightest. It was all flouncy and ornate. She had been to enough Carnivals to know that every single fortune teller with their tarot cards and crystal balls were complete and utter frauds. She would not be falling for the oldest trick in the book.
The professor, if you could call her that (Layla was thinking more of a hobbit), started blabbing on about tea and lavender and music and making it sound more like a yoga session than a lesson. What WAS this?! She asked a question to the class and with her notebook on the lowered desk in front of her the blonde merely listened to her classmates innocent answers.
Her answer? A load of false pretences.
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