Through the Chief's Eyes: Table in Severens

I sit at the table in the corner that gives me a view of everyone who walks by but secludes me into the background. The students pass in waves of groups; wolves in packs. They follow the alpha and they feed of the power. They gossip about their teachers, tearing them down, following the alpha’s lead. I watch carefully, afraid they’ll see me and think I’ve heard their cruelty, but no one notices me. I gain a strange sense of power sitting in the corner, listening to secrets. But I know that the second a kid turned his head, my power would be gone. I get to thinking that maybe I’m invisible and that’s why they can’t see me. It sounds better than the truth. I don’t know if I would have preferred them to see me.

Above my head is a portrait of a man. I can tell the man’s importance not only from his position on the wall, but from his arm casually swung around the chair sitting next to him and by the way that his legs are crossed. He looks like he rules the world. He wears a judging look on his face as he oversees the activity of the hallway. Watching, listening, judging. He sits like the nurse behind her glass wall, the only difference is that his power is contained by the paint. I, however, am hidden beneath him. I chose my seat subconsciously, and as I realize he can’t see me I am glad that even in my subconscious state I am consistent. I know that under the man’s stare I would have fallen prey. To stand in front of such power and such judgment would have been too much. I don’t know if I would have preferred him to see me.