Passing Notes (Undergoing Editing)

~ Being Kind ~

Scripture verses: Matthew 6:25-27

✝️

"Love you, Auby!" Mama yelled from behind the driver's seat.

"Love you, Mama!"

I shut the door and took the short walk from the car to the office doors. During registration, the councilor explained that all students had to report themselves as present to the attendance clerk. I'd never seen it done that way before. I'd also never seen so many students filter out of a car rider line into a single door.

I waited for a break in the wall of young men and women and slid through. There was no one watching us come in, so there was no one to tell us to get into a single file line. I guess they assumed that, since we were seniors, we'd have the common sense to do it ourselves. The principle shook his head at the scene and began directing students where they needed to go.

I still had my schedule from registration. I had five academic classes, plus a music elective. I was also in band, so there was that. Each class had it's location written to the side of it, and a brief glance at the evacuation map told me that English 104 in Room 55 was to the left of me.

I had to pass right by my locker on the way. Good thing, too, because my bookbag was gradually getting heavier the longer I carried it. I wasn't sure why. There were only two notebooks, my clarinet book, five textbooks, and my pencil organizer.

I know.

In my defense, I wasn't sure exactly what I'd need. Different schools tended to be different.

I found my locker, 575, and quickly attached my lock on it. It was purple and glittery and had a large blue cross on the front. It was a letter combination: in order to unlock it, I had to spell L-O-V-E. After having my locker rummaged through by someone looking for a pencil at my second town, I decided that all future lockers of mine would be safe and secure.

I dropped all unnecessary materials off. No more toting around fifty extra pounds. The heavy textbooks, excluding English, were the first to go.

I made up my mind as soon as the math book hit the grey, metal shelf that I was going to decorate this the first chance I got. There was so much potential for showcasing my style, for putting in a funny mirror, for sticking stickers everywhere -- so many possibilities.

My ears twitched at the sound of laughter to my right. There were a few girls talking with each other. One dropped off from the group to speak with a couple of boys. She grabbed one's wrist and shook it like a maraca. I recognized him as the blond boy, Evan, from youth group.

From what I could tell, he seemed to be easygoing. His speech was docile, his movements were fluid, not choppy, and he didn't glance around like a bobble-head. He stayed focused on who was around him. Until he looked up and saw me staring, and then he was very focused on me.

I turned away so fast that it took a minute for me to register that I wasn't looking that way anymore. I felt heat rise in my face. It was embarrassing to be caught staring.

The classroom door was decorated like a piece of notebook paper with Mr. Portel's name at the top and the beginning of an essay on Charles Spurgeon's "Lecture's To My Students." The classroom wall was lined with books, and his desk was neat. The walls were grey on top and light brown on the bottom in a half-and-half pattern. A lot of it was covered up by posters about how to write different kinds of essays, parts of speech, and different descriptive words to use.

I unzipped my bookbag and grabbed the only textbook still inside and a pink mechanical pencil. It was lacking an eraser big enough to use, so I went back in to find one. I knew I didn't put my pencil box in the locker. So why couldn't I find it?