Part 1-3
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Jessica instantly perked up as if nothing had happened and, in a sweet voice, said, “Sorry, Miss Watson. We were just discussing... the literature homework.”
The teacher crossed her arms, her expression full of displeasure. “Homework, you say? Well, if that’s the case, Jessica, you start. You’re prepared, aren’t you?”
Jessica, of course, didn’t miss a beat. With pleasure, she began to answer, summarizing the text they were supposed to have read. Meanwhile, Harvey tried to hide his anxiety, hoping the teacher’s attention wouldn’t stay on him for long.
— And now you, Hayley, — Miss Watson said coldly, her gaze burning into Harvey. — What do you have to say about the homework?
Harvey froze in place, having no idea what to say. It was absurd. Miss Watson continued to glare at him, while the classmates, including Jessica, snickered quietly.
— Donovan! — the teacher barked sharply. — When I ask a question, you’re supposed to stand up, like all normal students. Get up!
Harvey flinched from the sudden command and slowly stood up, feeling the entire class’s eyes on him. Embarrassment and anger flooded through him, but he still tried to mumble something:
— Um... I... didn’t do it...
The class erupted into laughter again, and the teacher sternly cut him off:
— If you didn’t do the homework, then stand by the board. Read the material aloud, at least.
Realizing there was no way out, Harvey reluctantly walked up to the board. He saw Jessica sticking her tongue out at him again, clearly enjoying his humiliation. They handed him a book, and the teacher pointed to a page.
— Begin, — Miss Watson ordered.
Harvey opened the book, bracing himself to read some boring passage from a story. However, as his eyes skimmed the first lines, he froze.
"Today, I didn’t do my homework again. I spent too much time with Tommy, even though I know it won’t last. He’s just using me, but I can’t stop. It feels like I’m getting more attached to him every day..."
Harvey suddenly felt a strange dizziness. These words seemed eerily familiar, as if they were his own thoughts and not some literary text. He blinked, trying to shake off the feeling, and continued reading.
"Sometimes I feel like I’m living just for Tommy. His touches, his words... They make me feel special. But I know he won’t change. He’ll always be like this... always looking at other girls behind my back..."
Harvey could feel strange, foreign memories surfacing in his mind. He vividly "remembered" how Tommy hugged him, how they spent time together, how she — Hayley — forgave him for all his little betrayals. He struggled to recognize that these weren’t his memories, but they were so clear, as if he had lived them himself. "Oops!...I did it again" - suddenly, quietly, from where, as if from far away and audible only to Harvey, Preston's voice reappeared briefly, forcing Harvey to freeze.
— Why did you stop, Hayley? — the teacher’s cold voice broke his concentration as she noticed his hesitation.
— I... — Harvey swallowed, looking around at the class. — This... isn’t literature.
— Not literature? — Miss Watson raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with irritation. — What do you mean by that, Donovan? If it’s not literature, then what is it?
Harvey opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt more and more uneasy. The book in his hands seemed like something foreign, yet terrifyingly familiar at the same time. It was as if each paragraph was tearing away a part of who he was, replacing it with someone else’s memories that felt all too real.
— I... I don’t know, — he finally whispered, realizing his mind was on the verge of breaking. — It’s just... not what I expected.
Miss Watson squinted at him, her patience wearing thin.