No Strings Attached

3

I nodded to the bus driver as I climbed on the bus the next day, with Naomi behind me. He gave a grudging wave as he shut the door behind us and pulled away from the curb, and I walked to where I had been sitting before and slid into my same spot. Naomi followed.

"So, what did you think of your first day yesterday?" she asked me.

"Good," I said definitively, even though I hadn't really formed an opinion on it yet. I just figured it was what she wanted to hear.

"Good!" she exclaimed as I started to pull my hair up into a ponytail. "You have really pretty hair," she said suddenly, as she watched me. In a feeble attempt to respond to her, I simply nodded to accept her compliment, trying to be polite while ending the conversation. She didn't seem to get the hint, though, as she continued to spew out words. "Oh, I just wanted to apologize to you about yesterday," she started. I flashed her a blank look, and she continued. "I mean, I'm sorry about my friends, is what I'm trying to say. They're kind of crazy, you know? Talkative and loud and stuff." She kept talking, answering her own question. "Well I mean, you don't, but you will, since you'll hang out with us and stuff. They're really nice, I swear, and I think they like you, which is good. Jane said you seem cool, and so did Elliot and Parker," she continued talking and I silently noticed that she didn't mention anything about Aiden. I wanted to ask, but since I was keeping conversation to a minimum, I decided not to. I just sat there as she looked at me and occasionally asked questions. I only nodded and gave one or two syllable responses.

"Anyway, you must know what I'm talking about right? Those kinds of friends that are just..." She trailed off before making a strange sound that seemed simultaneously aggravated and jubilant.

I simply shrugged in response, because, really, I didn't have those kinds of friends. Or any, for the matter.

After a couple minutes of silence, she looked at me curiously. "You don't talk to much, do you?"

The bus stopped in front of Bellinger and I gave her a wry half smile before standing up and leading the way outside. "I'm probably overwhelming you with all my talking then, I'm so sorry," she said, blushing slightly as our steps synced. "I'm kind of a nervous talker, or a chatterbox. My dad likes to call me that, he also says I ramble sometimes and-" she cut herself off, laughing easily and shook her head at her own actions.

I pushed open the door next to her before finally opening my mouth and turning the opposite way as her. "Don't worry about it," I called over my shoulder, the sentence slipping out of my mouth easily. I turned back to look at her, and saw her blink in surprise at my longer-than-usual response. I wore a similar expression on my own face.

I kept walking down the hall and finally turned into my first class, English, sliding into a seat in the back corner. I watched the kids filter into the classroom, surprised when I saw Aiden come in and take a seat in the middle of a group of rambunctious and laughing guys. I stared for a minute. I didn't know I had him in another one of my classes. I wondered if it would be weird if I were to move over to where he was sitting and say hello. Seconds later, I completely decided against it. I couldn't get involved with anyone, and I didn't even know them, anyway.

The english teacher came in moments later, sitting down at her desk with a mason jar full of slips of paper. "Alright, guys, lets get down to it," she said as she wrote on the whiteboard. 'Biographies' was written on the board in all capital letters, and she turned around to address us again. "Biographies. The account of someone's life, as told by another," she defined, clasping her hands together. I looked at her from the back of the room. She seemed fairly young, probably in her early thirties, and wore a warm smile on her face. I decided that I like her. "Everyone carries a story, and this year, we're going to learn them, starting now. This is your first project, and it will continue throughout the year, culminating in 15% of your grade." There was a collective groan throughout the class, and she gave a small laugh. "I promise you, it will be more fun than it sounds. I will assign you partners," she started, and there was another groan, but she ignored it. "And you will get to learn the story of their life from the beginning to the present. You'll develop an unparalleled understanding for the mechanics of writing when you type up the biography, as well as gain a mastery of effective questioning and the revision process." She leaned against her desk and brushed back her hair casually before she spoke again. "But, perhaps more importantly, you'll learn compassion and develop deeper connections with one of your classmates. It is truly a wonderful experience. I promise you.q" She said, and I tensed in the corner. I didn't want to tell anyone about my life, or develop any connections. That was the singular thing I was hoping to avoid this year.

A girl wearing tiny shorts and a shirt that exposed almost her entire stomach snapped her gum as she raised her hand in the air. Finally, the teacher called on her. "What if we don't want to tell anyone our life story?" she asked in a nasally voice. Though I normally would have laughed at her general appearance and vibe, I instead let out a small sigh of relief, hoping that she would get a sufficient answer, because I had the same question.

Some guy in the back next to me slouched in his seat and snickered, coughing, "Slut."

Others around the classroom began to snicker as well, but our teacher seemed unfazed as she quirked one eyebrow. The class fell silent again, and she spoke and shrugged. "If you don't want to tell anyone? I guess you'll lose 15% of your grade," she said, and my heart sank, as did the girl's face. "Okay," she said, clapping her hands. "Let's get onto the partnerships," she said, clamping her hand over the top of the mason jar and shaking it in front of her for effect. Little paper slips bounced and jostled around inside like they were trying to make a break for it. I felt for them. I was too.

"Kate," she produced one, "and Leila," and another. "Jake and Morgan, Rachel and Evan, Stephen and Ben," I looked around the classroom as she continued to read off names, amused by the reactions of my classmates. Some grinned excitedly across the room, while others sat uncomfortably, and others right out glared at one another. "Lucy," she said my name, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked around the classroom for an unfamiliar face. Her eyes landed on me and she flashed me another smile. "Welcome to San Francisco," she added, then continued. I blinked rapidly, anxiously anticipating my partner's name. I prayed it would be someone I could work with. I glanced at the jar; there was one slip of paper left. "And Aiden," she ended, setting the jar down.

My eyes widened, and I could feel his eyes burning into me from his seat in the middle. But instead of looking back at him, I continued staring straight forward, trying to figure out how I would work around this problem. "Okay, we have exactly 20 minutes left in this class, so why don't you all get in your groups and start figuring out how you're going to work out this project? And... break!" The teacher shouted like she was a professional football coach, and I snorted slightly, amused, while kids in front of me scrambled around for their partners.

There was a screeching of metal as Aiden pulled his chair up to mine in the back, swinging it around so it was backwards and sitting on it. "Hey, I didn't realize you were in this class too," he said, musing. "That's 3 for 7 now, not bad," he said, and I just looked at him. After a moment, he sighed, seeing as I wasn't going to respond. "Okay, I don't want to be rude, but do you talk? Or... not? That's cool too," he flashed a smile, but I didn't return it.

After a moment, I responded. "Yeah. I talk."

"Whoa, what? That was cool," he said, in mock-disbelief. "Do it again, please!" I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. "Hey, calm down," he soothed, and I sighed. "I'm just teasing you."

"I don't want to do this project," I admitted to him, and he just smiled wider.

"That was the largest amount of words I've ever heard you string together," he grinned, and I saw a faint dimple appear in his cheek. I had to admit, I was slightly annoyed, but he was pretty friendly, and (this part I hated to admit) not unattractive.

I crossed my arms again at his response, but he just shook his head. "You know, it's 15% of our grade. We can't just not do it."

"I know," I answered him.

"Good," he retorted. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"I don't," I said pointedly.

"Well-" he started, but was cut off by the shrill ringing of the bell. "Look, we can figure this out later, okay?" I surprised myself by nodding, and he gave another friendly smile. "Okay, good. I'll see you in 3rd period," he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "And lunch, right?" he asked tentatively, as I fell into step next to him. He checked for my reaction, and I found myself even more surprised when I nodded again, fighting off a smile.