I watch as Mr. Ashby goes through notes, explaining well enough about cell parts, everything of the sorts. I don't pay much attention because I still remember learning them in fifth and eighth grade.
"Okay, class, I'm going to pass out your homework. No partners, and please be quiet and respect the people who are doing their work if you choose not to." He picks up a fairly large stack of stapled papers and passes them out. I sit in the middle of the first row, so it was no time at all before a stack of papers was getting shoved in my face by the kid in front of me.
I take mine and pass the stack behind me, letting the person behind me grab them. I look at the directions, feeling bored already. No offense to biology, but science is just not my class.
I put the homework away, choosing to do it at home where I feel more comfortable doing my homework. So, if I follow Mr. Ashby's request and choose to be quiet, I can write in my journal.
I look around the classroom, studying the concentrated faces of students working on their science. Who can I write about? This probably isn't a great time to search for writing ideas, everyone basically looks the same right now, no odd mannerisms to study. Every student has their head bowed, reading or writing on the sheets of paper.
Surprisingly enough, I actually do find someone to write about. I angle my gaze to the corner of the room nearest to Mr. Ashby's desk. A boy is, obviously, sat in one of the desks, but it isn't normal, he has some how managed to pull his knees to his chest in the small space meant for just your torso. One arm is rested on top of his knees, his chin rested on that, while the other, his right, is writing on the page. His face looks bored, but I can't see much due to a fringe hanging in his face.
I'll admit, the sitting position is quite odd, but I can't think of anything pertaining to the reason why he'd sit like that. It cannot be purely out of comfort. Even from my spot all the wag across the classroom, I can see the way the edge of the desk digs harshly into his shins.
I write along a margin, just a question that I will remember the meaning of next time I read it: Why does he sit like that? I'll end up stressing my brain about it later, I always do when I can't find a possible answer for something.
I keep my gaze settled on the small character, studying every detail. I slowly lower my gaze from his fringe, to his shoulder, to the arm carelessly resting atop his knees, to the desk digging into his shins, and to his converse. After looking him over o raise my eyes and notice that he's looking right back, his hazel gaze boring into mine.
I widen my eyes, almost unable to look away, but I manage to. I always dislike getting caught, but I think I well deserved that one. I was staring for far too long.
*
I walk into the gymnasium for physical education class. Luckily, I chose wisely and have Lifetime Activities. All we do is walk the track on warm, sunny days and stay in the gym and do homework or watch the Team Sports kids on rainy days. It's my favorite class because I usually have time to work on things in my journal. It also gives me people to observe. It's easiest in this class because the people who are with their friends are acting like themselves — or, as much like themselves as I would be able to see while at school.
I look around, trying to decide who to write about. It's an odd thing, really. A kid whom almost no one notices just studying people so he can write it all down in some weird book. Even though the thought of it is sort of peculiar, even to me, I find it relaxing. It helps me when I'm upset or irate.
After the late bell rings, I look around once more. I study the people sitting around. Out of the forty-something people in here, I notice one individual– the boy from my biology class.
Mr. Carlile walks in, his red roster book held in his left hand, his mechanical pencil held in his right. As soon as we all quiet down, he starts to call out our names, which we respond to with "here" or even just a simple "yep".
After successfully finishing attendance, only a few people missing, he walks out to go give the names of the absent students to the office.
It's a rainy day, so we are staying in here today. I'm sat a corner, which is formed from the bleachers against the wall, whilst I hold my journal in my lap and, once again, train my eyes on that boy. I want to find something to write about, something that catches my interest more than a simple sitting position.
As I subtly watch what he does to try to find some odd mannerism or even something that interests me, his gaze catches mine again, which makes me realize that I'm not a very subtle person. He holds due contact with me for quite some time longer than in biology. Neither of us break eye contact. He's sitting a few feet away from me, his back against the bleachers while his legs are crossed at the ankle.
After what seems like forever, he breaks our little staring match, but surprising me with his next move: he gets up and starts to walk towards me.
Shit.
*~*~*~*
Okay! I've had this chapter written out for a while now soooooo here you are, a present from me to you!
I hope you liked it, and, as always, I love you guys c:
xoCrashFire
Chapter One
Começar do início
