Cassandra

Her brush meets canvas. The stroke is hard and heartfelt. All her emotion drains out her arm, through her hand and onto the canvas. She takes a step back, closes her eyes and opens them again. The black blob of paint is oozing like a puss filled wound down the middle of her yellow canvas.
“My God Cassandra. What have you done?” Mrs. Peters, her art teacher walks by her once sunny piece of artwork, staring in horror at the black puss.
“I finished it.” She stated and walked over the sink. Her heart was rapidly beating. The eyes of the class stared at the back of her head. She refused to blush. She refused to even give a damn at this moment. She rinsed her brushes and walked them over to the plastic bin where they belonged. There she turned back to face the class, only to find a few still staring out her furtively. Mrs. Peters still stood in front of her canvas and was waiting for an explanation. So Cassandra slipped out of her blue painting apron and dropped it on the floor.
“I hate you.” Another simple statement but the class studdered to a halt again so they could all turn and face her. She only had eyes for Mrs. Peters. “I hate you.” She repeated, making sure her wicked words were heard.
Mrs. Peters looked back at her, unsure of what to do in this moment. If she was not careful things could get out of hand and escalate quickly and needlessly. “Cassandra, please leave the class room now. Go the principles office and wait for me there. I will come after class is let out.”
“Ok. I will leave. But I am leaving this school. I am getting the hell out of here. Away from SLUTS LIKE YOU!” Her voice cresendoed and echoed through the room. A girl in the back gasped, and another student dropped their brush. No one had ever spoken to a teacher like that in this high school. That was something that was not allowed.
Mrs. Peters felt blood rushing to her face. This was out of hand and Cassandra had to be reigned in at some point. “Leave my classroom young lady. Now.” Firm seemed to be the best way to go right now, but still let the girl leave. If only she would leave.
“You look nervous Mrs. Peters.” Cassandra saw the woman struggling for a grip on the situation. “Don’t you want the whole school to know? I think in fact, that they have the right to know that you are a father stealing…”
“That is quite enough. Leave immediately. I will call the principle now.”

Cassandra walked down the hallway. Her ballet slippers padded on the linoleam. She felt her whole body shaking. Her mind raced. How could she let this happen? Art was her only way into the future and now she had just unmasked her art teacher for the whore she was. But she hadn’t done it privately like she planned. She had done it at school, and before she graduated. “Stupid stupid!!!” she hit her hand to her forehead. You are so stupid.