Undefined Affection

1: I Don't Watch Football

Chapter One: I Don't Watch Football

Mr. Shelders was telling me to get my groove on, but I didn't know if dancing in front of my Chemistry teacher was considered something I had an obligation to do. The student handbook never warned me of anything like this. I was dragged to homecoming by friends who had long ago ditched me for their dates, and I wasn't even wearing a dress.

"Stephanie," he slurred, reaching over to grab my arm. I quickly withdrew my hand from his reach, wondering how he was drunk when the bottle in his hand was clearly labeled "grape juice." "You look pretty."

Pretty, my ass. I was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans at a party where all the other girls were wearing clothes that their fathers would frown at, exposing every possible bit of skin without requiring censorship.

"Sounds like you've bonded with too much ethanol, Mr. Shelders," I responded sweetly, tapping the heels of my shoes together. It was a habit when I was nervous, for the gentle friction and rhythm of the motion served to calm my nerves. "Strange, I took you for a noble gas. I guess you aren't so noble anymore, huh Teach?"

Mr. Shelders stared at me, stunned into silence as I abruptly turned and walked away.

This was one of the reasons why I never came to events like these if I could help it. Here, there was no line between what was socially acceptable and what wasn't. "Social" wasn't in my vocabulary, but I had enough morals to determine what was acceptable. I could draw my own line. It wasn't considered acceptable for students to stand up to their teachers and speak their minds, even in situations when the teacher was asking for it. That was bullshit. I wasn't about to let Mr. Shelders take advantage of me.

All the girls at the dance wore high heels that boosted them up a full five inches, but few actually knew how to wear them. The number of girls limping across the room, hiding their pain behind forced smiles, was enough to fill an entire McDonald's staff - several branches. I stared down at my own blue Converses, a pair of shoes that I had worn nonstop for a good two years. Frayed at the edges, they were growing old, but they became comfier over time, adjusting appropriately to the shape of my feet. 

I stopped in front of a huge sign that proclaimed that it was homecoming night - as if everyone here didn't know that already - and leaned against the wall. It was 8:30 PM, meaning that in half an hour the DJ would start wrapping up. He wasn't playing any proper music anyway, and was just shuffling around with random old tunes to appear busy. I saw a flash of light as his phone screen lit up, and he immediately abandoned his DJ mixer. His fingers tapped his phone screen rapidly, probably texting his girlfriend about how bored he was. I felt for him. 

Halfway through typing, his phone began vibrating and his entire face changed color. I wondered if it was his mother. 

"Mom?" I heard him say nervously into his phone. "Hang on, I'll be home in a bit. Homework took a little longer than I thought. I have to go now. I'm in the bathroom and people are gonna think I'm weird. The music? Oh yeah, they play that in the stalls sometimes to block out the sounds. Sorry. Love you too." 

So he wasn't a professional. No wonder. I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the relatable situation, and then turned away from him so he wouldn't see my face. 

"You," a voice suddenly said, startling me out of my daze.

I looked up, biting my lip to maintain a serious expression. A boy stood before me. He was wearing a tuxedo that had been sloppily put on, for half the buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt was untucked, and his tie - yellow with blue bananas - was hanging crooked. I had to tilt my head up to look at his face that was unnaturally clear and free of blemishes. When he caught my gaze, I immediately became very interested in the floor patterns.