The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as I adjust my grip on these papers, still trembling slightly from today's "lesson." Miss Circle's compass gleamed so close to my neck during that last quiz—too close. But I survived another day, which is more than I can say for some of my classmates.
You're new here, aren't you? I can tell by the way you're looking around, still hopeful, still thinking this might be like any other school. That innocence won't last long, not with her watching. Miss Circle has this way of... noticing things. Mistakes. Imperfections. The way your hand shakes when you write, or how your voice cracks when you're called to the board.
I've learned to navigate these halls, to anticipate her moods, to survive her twisted version of education. But you? You're walking into something you don't understand yet. The yearbook might say some of us "got lucky," but luck here isn't about good fortune—it's about staying alive long enough to graduate. And Miss Circle? She's always watching, always waiting for the next student to disappoint her.
Stick close to me. You'll need all the help you can get.
