Miracle

Chapter Four

       John pushed open the door to the lettering classroom, causing it to bang against the wall, making a tremendously loud noise. Everyone turned and stared. John looked as mad as Aunt Mimi when John put his feet on the coffee table.

      Cynthia watched as John made his way to his desk, right next to where she was seated. They still needed to work on their essay.

      Cynthia had noticed John's obvious anger. She took a quick peek at him, and then looked straight down at her desk. She avoided eye contact, realizing that it might upset him even more.

      He plopped down in his seat, giving Cynthia a chill down her spine. Her fingers were shaking.

      For about five minutes straight, they sat in complete silence. Cynthia was afraid to speak. John was too upset to say a word.

     After a long wait, John finally yelled, "Well? Are you going to write this essay?" He snarled at the poor girl. She stared at him, shocked by his temper, and hesistantly started writing their essay.

     She looked over at John every few minutes, and observed him. He stared down at the floor, his face red. "He's not exactly angry," Cynthia thought, "He's sad." She didn't know why, though.

     John started kicking at Cynthia's chair. She looked at him, about to yell, and noticed he had a cute little smile on his face. He was kidding around. Cynthia smiled back.

    John leaned over, to see the paper Cynthia was writing. 

   "Need any help?"

   "Sure."

   He grabbed the paper from her, and jotted down a paragraph or two. Cynthia stared at him, wide-eyed. He was helping her.

  When the dismissal bell rang, Cynthia grabbed her books, and as she was about to run for the door, she heard someone call her name from behind her. "Cynthia," the voice said. She turned around. It was John.

   "Can I walk you to your next class?" he blushed. He tried looking everywhere, except at her. Cynthia could tell he was a bit embarrassed, and smiled out of pity for the boy. 

   "Sure, John."

   He ran next to her, his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. They smiled, while other students in the classroom stared in shock.

  They walked out the door, and into the hallway.

  "You didn't seem very happy in class today, John."

  John looked at Cynthia. The smile from his face was gone.

 "Oh."

 "You can tell me, John," Cynthia said, compassionately, "I might understand."

 John stared at Cynthia for a moment. She seemed trustworthy enough.

 "My mother died," he told the girl, "Just yesterday."

 Cynthia's eyes got big. She felt sorry for poor John.

 "That's terrible," she sympathized, "How did it happen?"

 "I don't know. My aunt hasn't told me yet."

  She stared at the floor as she walked with John. She felt sorry for bringing up the topic of John's sadness during class.

 Cynthia finally reached her next class. They stopped in front of the door.

 "'Bye, John," Cynthia smiled, "See you tomorrow."

  John watched her skip into the classroom.

  "See you, Cyn."