Walking In

I walked into art and there was everyone. I was late, like always, and you always discount the outlier when calculating the average, so I'm used to sliding around to my chair by the back row, quietly. Today, everyone was staring at me. No one spoke. I was almost positive they had just been talking about me. Silently, I slithered into my seat. I heard a few pestered whispers from somewhere to my right. Turned over my shoulder quickly; mouths were shut. I'll never know what they were saying. But I'll make myself not care if it's the last thing I do.