Midnight Kisses| ✓

Chapter 9

I stiffen put my hands in front of my chest and try not to sway. "That's my seat."

"But I am sitting here now," Trisha says. She is up from the seat and is looking at Miss Haines like she has never seen something more interesting than her and her eyes wobble.

That's bullcrap. And I know Miss Haines is totally buying it when she pats Trisha in the arm and says, "It's okay Trisha." She says her first name which in itself is a very bad sign. "You can sit here. Covalho will take your place."

She takes my arm, like I am a lost child and leads me to the desk where Brad is sitting. "Sit here Covalho," she says firmly. Even teachers know a pariah when they see one and won't take their sides.

I want to cry. I cry so easily. I cry after I watch a particular sob movie (Hatchiko), or seeing homeless children on the road. But mostly I cry when I am angry. When I want to hit at something but instead my brain cells tell me to cry, cry, cry and let it flow out. I am a cynical crier. How ironic is that? Even my body hates me.

And now I want to cry because somebody has taken my seat. That is a new low even for more.

The class starts and Miss Haines is explaining how to identify a basic radical and an acid radical and everybody starts to write it down. I am only half listening. I think if I can only get my hands on that concentrated sulphuric acid, then I can end it right there.

But I have seen Miss Haines, even with air-brain, now keep the acids locked inside a cabinet and brings it out only when needed and hands it over after diluting it. Last year a senior girl Courtney Higgs had tried to commit suicide after she failed her SATs.

And this is just for a moment, one of the downs, in my life as a rollercoaster. I get over it everytime.

Brad Hampton keeps glancing at me and it's pretty annoying. He thinks I am probably plotting against killing him. He chews on his pen and suddenly people around us are getting up. at first I think the class is over.

But they start moving over at the back where the lab equipments are kept. For the practicals. I hate this part.

Usually Miss Haines will make a show about asking everybody if they want to be partners with me. But they have already paired up with each other and I am the last one left. It reminds me of first grade when picking teams I would always be the last one left. Back when I was kind of a nomad ,tagging along with different groups of girls on different days. Until Emily came along and became my first real friend.

"Hampton you are with Covalho." Brad jerks his head up as if not believing what he just heard.

He lets out a strangled sort of noise from his throat. "I can't..." Then he looks at me. He is twice the size of me, what is he so afraid of?

"We can't be partners." He says it like it should be obvious enough to Miss Haimes.

"Why not?" she asks him. By now everybody has stopped what they are doing and staring at me and Brad. His face becomes red and he rakes his hand through his hair like he's thoroughly frustraution.

I clench my knuckles so hard that m ail bites in to my skin. To Miss Hames's credit she does not raise the topic of video, which is why Brad is freaking out so much. Couple that with the fact how much his reputation will take a hit if he partners with me, even it is only for only once class.

Stupid brad Hampton and stupid Trisha Beckeley. Why the fuck did they have to breakup today and then drag me into the mess? If Emily were here she would totally kick their butts. If Emily were here we wouldn't be even having this conversation.

"We can do it alone." I say. I don't have the energy to stand up. There is a pressure in my stomach. It feels heavy and it is sucking all the air out of me.

"I don't need a partner." I do the class alone, everyday. It's not like it's a big deal for me. "Brad Hampton can do it with Trisha Beckeley." Brad looks like I have just slapped him.

"No," Miss Haimes says firmly and her face is coming alive with emotions. She is angry at me, brad or the class in general. I have never seen her look so animated. "You will work together."

Brad doesn't push it. He walks to the equipments, dragging his feet and like a child who has been denied backs back to our seat and stops. "You coming?" He doesn't look at me.

I don't push my luck so I follow him while the tension in the room which has reached a crescendo diffuses, and the others all get back to their work as if they have suddenly been released from a spell of hypnosis. I mentally tick another box. Another rumour to fight through.

Brad lights up the burner while I watch in silence but as he is about the reach for the sample, I say "Let's divide. You do your analysis. I'll do mine. That way we don't have submit our work together." Brad doesn't argue.