I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE FUNNY | ✓

▬ 11

YELLOW CONTINUES TO BLINDSIDE ME

           The tang of antiseptic clings to me the second I cross the threshold into maths on our last day of lessons. The static in my fingers, initiated by the waft present in the hall, dials up so that by the time I take a seat in the second row, I have to check my hands are still whole.

Did they change the disinfectant or has the cleaner simply used plenty of surplus today? My classrooms in the morning had nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe the cleaner accidentally spilt the whole container across the floor right at my feet and the odour has yet to diffuse.

Ignore it. Think about something else.

By some mockery of the universe, my distraction is Miles.

Regardless of the two-person desks, Richards never lets us sit next to each other. Only a handful of pupils take further maths and we have no lack of space. Miles dumps his Astros bag onto the table beside mine though leaves two seats and the aisle to divide us.

'I can't today. I've got tutoring.' He hasn't looked at me once but the taut and hushed tone of voice suggests he's aware of my proximity.

'Still can't believe you're tutoring Leech.' Tristan followed them into the room to continue the conversation despite not taking this class. He pauses for a moment to think to himself how truly bizarre this fact is until he returns to the present with a coarse, 'Just cancel.'

'I can't cancel three hours before. That's a dick move.'

Lysander drops into the chair behind Miles and scoffs. 'Why do you care? The queer fuck will have to deal.'

I turn away so they don't see me watching.

When, two seconds later, a realisation falls on me, my gut squirms so viciously I swallow on instinct. I don't look away to save myself the hurt — I look away to save myself from second-hand embarrassment. Because Miles must be embarrassed by being associated with me. The nauseating part is that I don't hold it against him. I simply don't want to witness myself as a dirty secret through him.

Tristan's voice continues. 'It doesn't matter. Adam's ill so we need you for football. Just cancel. You can survive without the tenner he pays, can't you?'

Miles doesn't answer. His shoes scuff the floor in an arch below him.

Richards strides into the room and Tristan hurries out before he's spotted. 'I know this is your last day of lessons,' Richards starts, 'which means most of your teachers let you watch movies and eat cake, but you have exams starting next week. Now is not the time to relax.'

Groans break out just as my cell vibrates. Lucky happenstance; Richards has an acute hearing for typing and notifications. As subtly as I can, I ease it out of my pocket to find a text from Miles.

Sorry.

That's it. He doesn't bother to pretend I might not have heard and explain the situation.

I roll my eyes and slip my phone back without responding. Whatever, Kilometres. Why would I care?

I've managed to avoid him since the wave on Wednesday, and the more distance I cram between us, the clearer it becomes that whatever infatuation I momentarily slipped into is going to be a whole lot more trouble than it's worth. It's good that he can't make it. I don't want anything to do with him.

Richards sets his briefcase onto the teacher's desk much louder than necessary and the groans silence. 'I've printed out the core exam from last year. You should be able to answer all of the questions or you don't have much of a chance.'