Cherry Baby (INCOMPLETE)

Chapter 3 - Mr. Dawson

Monday; November 2nd, 9:23 am.

The moment the door opens, all the other students pause in their chats and go silent.

This is awkward because it has never happened before. At my old school, typically, older kids just carry on with their previous activities.

Causing the instructor to either:

1. Stand there awkwardly believing that if they do that, the students will truly stop. But in fact they didn't even notice, which made them yell.

2. Calmly attempt to catch their attention.

3. Finally, give a lengthy speech about how miserable their life and job are and how they wish they could quit.

Guess this school really is about discipline.

"Good morning class, today we will take a bit of time to take some notes regarding the 19th Century Era," Mr. Dawson says as he clears his throat.

"After that, I'll let you pick a partner so you may discuss what you liked and didn't like about what you had learnt." He places his briefcase on the desk and his coat on the chair.

He turns towards us all and before stopping his gaze at me. After a brief period of maintaining eye contact, I break it when I realize everyone is staring.

I raise my head after hearing Mr. Dawson speak once more. "We have a new classmate, students."

Before he said my name, he checked the facts on his notepad about me.

"Would you introduce yourself, Cheryl? Perhaps anything unique about you?" He looks back at me and inquires.

Even if I expected this, my body remains still since I am not better prepared.

I clear my throat and whisper, "I'm Cheryl and I'm 19 years old. Pink and red are my favorite colors." I keep things short and sweet because I don't want people to focus on me for any longer than is necessary.

"I apologize, Cheryl, but I don't believe everyone heard you. Would you repeat it louder?"

Upon hearing his request, my body shudders.

"I'm Cheryl. I'm 19 years old, and I love the colors red and pink." I sigh as my hands tremble.

This time, although my voice was shaken more than before, I spoke louder.

Everyone gathers their note-taking materials as he nods and turns to the whiteboard. As I wait for him to write, I further slouch back in my chair and wish I could vanish.

When I feel a hand on my arm, Winona is sitting there with a worried expression on her face. "Are you alright? You were speaking with a lot of trembling and anxiety. You must dislike public speaking, I suppose."

"Could you tell?" I inquire but once I realize she is seated close to me and could see me better than some others.

She nods and smiles warmly.

"Well, I've always been quiet and anxious in class, and now that I'm doing presentations and public speaking, it's even worse." I softly explain.

Before returning to her note-taking, she nods. I follow suit, but after a while, my hand's cramping.

And because of my OCD, I know that if I don't write something exactly how I like it, I'll redo it until it is.

Mr. Dawson said, "Once you are done writing the notes down, you are free to start the debate with your selected partner." When he had completed writing the notes down for us to duplicate.

He sat down at his desk and appears to be organizing his lessons or completing some sort of paperwork.

Around the same time, Winona and I both finished. And decided on being each other's partners.

Class Just Ended.

Me and Winona along with the rest of the class pack up and leave the room.

Mr. Dawson spoke as we moved toward the door. "Cheryl, could you please wait a moment?"

I freeze; am I a problem? Did I make a mistake? Oh, come on!

I nod and tell Winona she could leave.

He says after all the other students have left, "I wanted to extend a warm welcome to you in my class and at the school. I've observed that you lack a passion for public speaking and attention."

"I appreciate it, and yeah. Why? Is it a problem? My mother has always urged me to mature and conquer my worries. But it's not as simple as it appears, so I'm not sure how." I slap my hand over my mouth to stop from further embarrassing myself.

I promised myself I wouldn't share about this, and I just did. Great.

"There's no reason to feel ashamed, Cheryl. Everyone struggles with something." As he drew closer, he spoke while crossing his arms and leaning one hip against the desk.

His veins and muscles are much more dilated because of rolling and crossing his own selves.

I have to restrain myself from ogling him in order to prevent embarrassment for myself.

I stop talking because I feel myself regressing from all the shame and worry. I fumble with my shirt and bounce my leg while resisting the impulse to suck my thumb.

I look up at Mr. Dawson, who is looking at me with a worried expression when I jump from a hand stroking my arm. "Are you okay, Cheryl? I've been attempting to get your attention for several minutes now." He said.

He kept his hand on my arm, stroking my skin with his thumb in a soothing motion.

I want my stuffed animals. An intense desire to cry soon appears. No matter how hard I tried to fight them, tears fell.

My body trembles, and a complete sob escapes my lips.

becoming more worried, Mr. Dawson extends his arm in a hug.

I practically jump into his arms. He comforts me by stroking my hair and whispering kind words in my ear. I stopped crying and reduced to sniffles after a short period.

"Sorry." Once I was free from his hold, I spoke while lowering myself.

This is so embarrassing, my God. He surely sees me as strange now.

"It's okay, Cheryl. Why don't you return to your room and get some rest? I'll let the teachers and the principal know." He nods and smiles.

"All right, thanks." I whispered, feeling tired.

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