Faulted Mirror

Chapter 2: Sore Throat

"HURRY, will you?"

"Alex if you want the notes you have to wait for me to collect them all. I told you there was like ten of 'em." I said with a sigh and a roll of my eyes. "And could you stop with the shaking? It's harder to find things when they're moving." God, why does he have to be this way? I told him about the notes that fell out of my locker the other day and needless to say, he's more antsy than I am. At last I had them all in my right hand. Gently pushing my small rectangular box shut leaving a slight crack, I poured each note onto Alex's palm.

"Remember, I still haven't read them. They've just been sitting here getting moist." I shuddered as I said that word. Wrong context, but it still applies.

"Why do you say it if you hate it so much?" Alex pointed out. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Why do you ask so many questions? Those notes weren't even for you. I can take them back if you want."

"Fine. Take them back." Then he jammed the thin pieces of paper straight back into the tiny purple cube and stormed off to his little group of wanna-be cliche jocks, not even noticing when he opened the locker back up. I thought his fist was about to come into contact with the washed out metal.

I rotated my elbow back and slammed the locker shut emitting a loud groan. A few people stared, but not for too long as my hands came up to my face and slid directly back down. After leaning my hot head on the eroding locker for a minute, I slouched my way towards math with Mr. Love. Maybe, he can help me.

I slid into my usual seat just across his wooden teacher's desk immediately crossing my arms onto the cold surface and laying my head down squishing my nose in the process causing my breaths to stop short. I could hear the rest of the students shuffling into the class and the desk legs scraping the floor, as per usual, due to them being moved into their most comfortable positions within each group. The bell rings for class to start, but that doesn't stop the students from continuing their seemingly intense conversations from lunch. Most of them still have food or snacks to munch on throughout the 2 hours we'll be stuck here, so maybe I can pick off their plates.

I hear Mr. Love mumble "I'll just wait for the rest of 'em to come on by" before he rolls over in his flat worn out black teachers chair by my side. I subtly turned my head toward where he's seated just an inch, so I can politely smile as my every day greeting and turn my head back to it's previous position stubbing my nose.

"Hello Daisy" he praises. I give him a small frail wave, if you can even call it that. I think it was more of a small flick than anything else. "Oh no, what happened this time?" Mr. Love lightly asks me. "What did you do?"

"Ugh. I didn't do anything!" The wide eyes. "So what if I did." The small sound of encouragement. "I may or may not have slightly made a small really tiny outburst in the middle of a perfectly rather calm engagement with Alex."

"Now why would you do that to sweet Alex?"

"He is NOT sweet." The wide eyes again. "So what if he is."

"Mhm, hold that thought." Mr. Love rolled back to his desk. "Alright, let's get through attendance and then you can get back to your chit chats." Roll call only lasted thirty seconds as promised.

"So, where were we?"

"Someone put random notes into my locker and he wanted to see them. I put the notes in his hand and he just threw them back into my locker."