Crawling back, Steve shivered before finding his hand press the wall. There was no going back now. The light flickered, and the crowds of other students were in similar positions, cowering around the classroom in bunches or alone. Even in death, some people were fated to be losers.
His voice was a regular deep, monotone, but the wide, embroidered grin masked any sense of humanity. The googly eyes dropped up and down, making every student try and push the wall. Some started to cry.
“Oh, come on. I’m not that scary.”
Steve gulped, and in a last moment of bravery, he got up from his spot and dashed to the door, grabbing the doorknob and shaking it. For a brief moment, he thought the door locked, and tears started to fall. But then the door swung open, and he fell out. The other students noticed him and pushed past him to get out.
Soon, the room was empty, and a red and yellow mascot sighed. He wobbled over to one of the desks and sat down.
“I’m not that scary, am I? This is the fourth class that’s run out before I could start my lesson on cigarettes.”