So here I am, sitting in class and I glance over. She is sitting there, so close to me it’s making it hard to breathe. I lean away, tilting my head as I take a deep breath. She isn’t looking, as far as I can tell. I look down and roll my pencil, making soft clacking noises. I want her attention.
For the past month and a half, I’ve been sitting next to the same girl. We’re supposed to be partners for this upcoming project, yet we haven’t spoken a word, let alone exchange glances. I let my eyes wander over to steal a quick look at her, before shyly returning to my work.
Simon = symbol of Jesus Christ… has conversation with plant about abortion. Pig = vast mouth = darkness with red hair.
I obviously wasn’t paying attention to what I was writing. I was just writing down whatever words I caught. Stupid book review.
Finding myself unable to pay enough attention to actually write on the page, I set down my number two and wipe the pencil smudges from the desk with my heavy, two sizes too big jacket.
Anyways. Ring bell, damn you. Every time I have to sit beside her, you seem to come later, and later, and later. If only I could stand up and-
“Teach. Maybe I use the restroom?”
I hate doing that. But he nods at me and I stumble out of my desk, catching the leg on my foot. Trip.
I hate doing that. I land on my knees and stop myself with my hands. As I stutter a ‘pardon me’ I dash out of the room, blessing the sanctity of the silent hall.
I love doing this. Oh, so quiet. Occasionally, there will be a ditcher or two stalking the halls, but thankfully not today. It will give time for the blood in my cheeks to settle. And a moment for my thoughts to compile, and, I pray, sort themselves out.
So. She is striking. Just, everything is like. Wow.
But I’m not going to describe her to you. Number one, my words couldn’t possibly do her beauty justice. Number two, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Now I jump subjects to my breathing.
Have you ever had one of those moments were you take a breath, and it’s almost like it isn’t you breathing? Like that breath is so cleansing and clean itself, the thought of it being your own air is strange.
… Maybe you have, maybe you haven’t. It’s probably just myself… being myself.
Right well. Class is quickly coming back to me. I think if I can slow my pace, I can make it right on the bell. Now comes the feeling.
The feeling is that feeling you get that makes you horribly sick. You seem to burn up, even though the room you’re in is negative fifty degrees. Your stomach feels like it’s being wrenched open and torn out by flesh hungry zombies. Her lungs seem to shrivel up, and there’s usually a shooting pain somewhere in your body.
Perfect! Just as my fingertips touch the door, the bell sounds, and almost immediately, kids pour out. I enter the class, my fellow students shouldering me as they rush by. She’s standing up. She’s getting her backpack, and looking right at me. I flush, my eyes wandering over to the teacher as he left for his break.
Great, now we’re alone. All she does is point to a scrap of paper on my desk. I can just barely see the gray pencil scribbles. She waves and walks out, leaving me blushing, embarrassed in the middle of the empty classroom.
Palm to forehead.
I’ll talk to her tomorrow.