Feeling Weightless

Laura is talking.

A few months ago, I came to the conclusion that A.P. Government was as useless as a sack of flies. By then, it was too late drop out. It was in this class that I'd never felt guilty for staring off into space nor stopped myself from drawing all over the desk. It was not like my Government teacher cared; he was too busy admiring his wit to catch me doodling in the far back corner.

So there I was, happily spending what was left of the hour, drawing the most beautiful stick figure I ever laid my eyes on, when the boy sitting beside me interrupted my trance. I nearly jumped through my skin.

"Whoa, you all right there?" came a voice that couldn't belong to anyone else but Kieran Smith.

When my pulse finally settled, I turned on him. "Were you trying to give me a heart attack?" My hand immediately went to space above my poor, defenseless organ.

For a moment, Kieran looked taken aback, as if he'd never heard me speak before. Then again, the most we ever spoken to each other was the usual "excuse me" in the hallways.

He shook his head of chocolate curls at me as a brilliant smile began to take up residence across his lips. "No. Actually I was going to ask if I could borrow a pen."

"Oh." Feeling slightly flustered, I took out a pen from my bag and handed it over to Kieran, making sure to keep my eyes away from the blinding smile formed on his face.

Thanking me, he plucked the ballpoint pen from my fingers and jotted down the notes from the whiteboard.

It was a moment later, with eyes locked on the board and a hand flying across his notebook, that he said completely out of nowhere, "So, there's going to be a party tomorrow night."

For a moment I thought he was talking to someone else, but after subtly looking at the students seated around us, it hit me that he wasn't. Golden boy, Kieran Smith, was indeed talking to me. Confused by just about everything in this world, including why he could possibly be saying this to me, I mumbled out a "So?"

"So," he drew out the word in an obvious tone, "are you going?"

For a long moment, I sat there speechless. I doubted he even knew my name, and yet, he was asking me if I was going to some party. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

I let out a definite "nope."

Kieran whirled on me, completely forgetting the notes and my pen. With the expression he was using, I would have thought Starbucks ran out of coffee. "Why not?"

With knitted brows, I mulled over a realistic excuse. "Can't. Don't have a car."

It was the easiest thing I could come up with, without lying through my teeth. I thought it was the perfect answer to end the conversation. Truthfully, I hated social gatherings of any sort. Let them be parties, school trips, whatever. Grams claimed I hated people. In actuality, she wasn't a hundred percent correct.

Unfortunately, Kieran decided to hit me with a pile of bricks.

"I can give you a ride," Kieran said enthusiastically. "In fact, I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow night."

I was so sure of my answer that he couldn't possibly change my mind that I never realized he didn't have to.

By the time his words registered in my brain, the bell had rung. In the span of time it took the students to leap from their desks and shuffle out the door, I was still sitting in my seat with a puzzled expression across my face.

Kieran was instantly swallowed by the sea of students by the time I began to open my mouth to protest his generosity, let alone explain my extreme dislike for parties.