The door groaned as he entered the classroom.
He stepped in. Immediately, his echoing footstep silenced the chattering children.
Deian kept his head down. He did not want to see them. His classmates did not want to make eye-contact either, yet they could not help staring. He stood there for an eternity.
A month ago, before his suspension, Deian was a meek boy, a doormat. They could use him for their own benefit; Deian wouldn't care— or so they thought. Now they felt a combination of guilt and fear.
Deian could tell from their silence.
He lifted his head and scanned the room, examining every expression. All were at a loss for words. The morning sun glared at them steadily through the windows, mocking their silence.
The teacher briskly walked in, "Oh, Deian. Welcome back—"
"No." Deian looked at the teacher and smiled.
"Goodbye."
Briefly he gave the class a blank, cold stare and soon turned away, out the door, down the hallway, into the glaring sun. Deian glared back. Never again.
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