MIÉRCOLES
8:46 AM
Dahlia Gray
I'm always late.
I don't know what came over me. I arrived at school at seven am sharp, and the only misstep in my routine was my friends holding me back a little longer than necessary. We were talking about something—I already forgot—and it felt rude to tell them I needed to leave.
It jumped around in topics, and I remember faintly about them bringing up a boy but I couldn't exactly recall his name. It started with an R?
The door was close to closing when I arrive, but I slip my hand in the crack before the teacher closes it. Granted, that could've earn me a broken bone that would've led me to the nurse's office and a great excuse—but Calloway was smarter than that.
The moment my fingers pass the doorframe, he stops himself.
Mr Calloway pulls the door back, and holds a timid look over his features. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a clean face. He was in his mid-forties, working to finish his course in high school education before progressing forward to become a professor.
He likes me—sometimes—and today was on the flip-side of that sometimes.
"Miss Gray," he muses, just as I step into the classroom with my backpack threatening to slip off my shoulders. I look around the room, seeing how everyone was situated into a seat and stares at me with a passive look.
Anxiety pulses through my veins and I nearly wanted to turn around and leave the room, risking a write-up than facing the looks of my peers.
"Nice of you to join us," he said, holding out his hand. He's asking for a pass. Shoot, I don't have a pass.
"I, um," I take the strap of my backpack, "I don't really have a pass. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be this late—"
"It's fine," he said with a wave of his hand, causing my words to fall flat. He looks away, turning back to the board as he picks up the dry-erase marker and returns to writing today's lesson. "Just take a seat."
I look around the room, spotting an empty two-person desk that no one wanted to occupy. It was saved near the front, with a limping leg on one end of the desk and seated near the no-cheating zone. It was fine for me, since I actually study for physics.
I slip onto the chair, dropping my backpack onto the empty seat. I quickly rearrange myself and pull out all my necessities—my laptop, my notebook, my pencil pouch. It was noisy, and I felt a couple of students staring at the back of my head, but it is what it is.
Mr Calloway finishes with writing the final deed of today's class period, and I found it shorter than usual. The first one reads: speaker.
The door knocks and simultaneously, all heads turn towards the door. Mr Calloway sighs, proceeding to walk over as he cracks open the wooden door and reveals a boy.
I know that boy.
He steps inside, his hand holds a paper slip of something as he entertains a bored expression. Mr Calloway takes it from his hand, his eyes quickly scanning over the words before returning to the blue-eyed boy.
"Why are they switching you over now?"
"They said my schedule fucked up or something," he replies, causing the rest of the class to let out a low gasp. I wasn't one of them—I figured he was one to swear—but that doesn't make the situation any better. He looks to us. "What?"
"We don't swear in my classroom," Mr Calloway declares, walking over as he drops the paper slip on his desk. "Let that be your first warning. Take a seat next to Dahlia."
"I'm new here, who the fuck is Dahlia?"
All heads turn back to me.
Estupendo.
"I said no swearing, young man," Mr Calloway warns, with thicker authority to his voice. He doesn't back down from the guy, pointing to the front desk where I occupied. "Dahlia Gray. Right there."
The guy turns his head, following his finger and his gaze locked with mine. I felt my breath hitch in my throat and I quickly drop my eyes to the desk, pretending to be interested in the lead graffiti grazed on the desk. It was faint, with answers and rhetorical questions.
I hear footsteps approaching and I reach over to drop my backpack to the floor beside me, not once meeting his eyes.
He takes the seat, and I could feel his body heat radiating off to me. He doesn't smell too bad—the lingering of smoke drowned out by a light scent of vanilla—but that doesn't mean he and I are good. He and I are definitely not good, and considering the fact that the bench is beginning to pick up a scent of cigarette after-smell, he and I will forever be not good.
I pluck the pencil from resting on top of my notebook, clutching the object like it was my one source of life support.
This guy and I haven't talked since that morning where I approached him—from the pure sanity of sudden burst in confidence—and I remain unfulfilling when I told him this wasn't over.
We don't have any classes together, which was good, but now that I hear of this schedule change—I might not be so sure.
"Okay class," Mr Calloway turns to face us, and I let out a breath of air. As long as I have something distracting me—a lesson, worksheet, anything—I don't have to think about cigarette boy sitting beside me. "Today, we will have a speaker from the local college."
Oh?
"He'll be filling you in about this wonderful program that might interest a lot of you. It'll look great on your college applications and it would provide marvelous opportunities. Please listen."
I turn around to look at some of my classmates, seeing the eagerness in their eyes as they begin to whip out their phones. I turn back to the front as the door is knocked once more and Mr Calloway approaches it, revealing a tall Asian guy behind it.
I hear the guy beside me mumble something under his breath.
"Hey, guys, I'm Presley Young," he greets with a charming smile, waving his hand as he greets the classroom. The guy—Presley—stood tall, wearing a red hoodie and some Adidas pants. He has jet-black hair that cuts short and frames his face, with thick brows, mono eyelids, a straight nose and full lips. He was actually kind of cute.
"I'm currently interning at SAINT Laboratories, a non-profit organization that is made for STEM research. Is anyone here interested in STEM?" I look back around the classroom, seeing how a good portion of the girls are paying attention to Presley's words, their eyes lost from their phones. A couple of guys raised their hands, but no girls did.
"Alright, so, STEM is science, technology, engineering, and math. SAINT Laboratories is focused on creating new technology and branching their resources for the government and science labs. Anyone ever heard of NASA?"
Everyone raised their hands, including me.
"Well, SAINT is similar to that. SAINT stands for Scientific Advancements In National Technology. The goal of SAINT is to extend their research to companies such as NASA. Since SAINT is considered new in the game, but is receiving a lot of positive feedback from the public and the government, it is extending to students who would like to help out."
Presley stops, and I was actually getting really interested in the program. He looks beyond me, and he points to someone in the back. "The girl in the white," he said, which sparks my interest and forces me to turn around.
It was Elise, a pretty blonde who is involved in a couple of sports—including tennis and swimming. She asks, "what programs does SAINT offer and what program are you in?"
Presley merely smiles, "SAINT offers a lot of programs. It has departments in bioengineering, astrophysics, biochemistry, space technology and much more. There's a list if you'll like them."
"But what program are you in?" Elise persists, and I hear the boy beside me make a snide comment about her asking too damn much.
"I'm currently enrolled in space technology, because I thought I wanted to help create gadgets and techs for space travels, but I'm going to unenroll after winter semester. I might switch over to another program, I don't know what yet."
I hear a small groan of disappointment in the back.
"However, there's good benefits when it comes to enrolling for SAINT. Since SAINT is growing bigger, they've been opening more labs for them all across the country. If you get an internship with them, and you're in high school, you could travel to any location you want for college and they'll pay it—no matter the cost."
My eyes widen.
"Also, if you keep up your internship, you'll get paid within the first year and if you continue down a STEM pathway for college, they'll hire you when you leave college with a six-figure salary."
College paid for? Anywhere I want to go? A six-figure salary? And all I need to do is continue down a STEM pathway?
Hell yes.
I begin to write notes down onto my physics book, circling the name SAINT a couple of times as I list out their benefits. I remind myself to go find their website and their application process, trying to see if I can pass it.
"Yes, Harlow?" I look up from my notes, wondering who Harlow is when I see the guy beside me raising his hand. He looks straight to Presley, a bitter look crossing his features.
"So, you're telling me, you could've gone anywhere but you decided to stay here?" The guy—Harlow—declares. I could see Presley pulling his fingers into a small fist, but I don't think anyone else noticed.
"Sometimes it doesn't matter the opportunities you're given. Sometimes, all you want is family."
"That's bullshit," Harlow snaps.
"Mister Harlow," Mr Calloway warns, which pricks the prompt that Harlow is his last name. I scrunch my brows, trying to understand why Harlow is targeting Presley like that.
"Stay out of it," Harlow snaps at Calloway, causing the classroom to gasp. He doesn't mind, however, staring straight at Presley with a look of determination. "You were given an opportunity where you could leave, and travel, and become something of yourself and you decided to stay in this town?"
Presley pulls his lips into a thin line, the first time I see him breaking his calm exterior. "This doesn't relate to SAINT."
Harlow stares passively. "Answer the question."
"I'll answer questions about SAINT," Presley declares adamantly, looking away from Harlow as he looks towards the class. The students were silent, watching the interaction between Harlow and Presley—which was a wake-up for a morning class.
"Does anyone have any more questions?" Presley prompts, refusing to meet Harlow's burning gaze. I wanted to raise my hand, but after the showdown between the two, I don't know whether I should wait it out or be spontaneous and do it.
The bell rings before another word could be uttered, and in that moment, I jump out of my seat and pick up my belongings, shoving them into my backpack as I yank the zipper close and swing the straps over my shoulders.
I look up to meet Presley, seeing him leaving the classroom. I run after him.
"Wait!" I said, stopping Presley in his tracks. He looks up from his path and meets my gaze, a soft smile begins to form his lips. I catch up to him.
"Hey," he greets.
"Hi," I said, stealing a glance back at the classroom. "I'm sorry for what happened back there with that guy. I know he can be a huge pain in the—"
"—ass, I know, I live with him," Presley laughs, taking me by surprise. He catches this. "Harlow is my foster brother."
"Oh," that took me by surprise. I was curious to ask more about that, but I stopped myself, wanting to know more about the program that could potentially fund my escape.
"It's fine," he shrugs it off, "is there anything you want to ask me?"
"Um, yeah," I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. "I wanted to ask more about the SAINT program. Is there an application deadline, where can I apply, what type of programs could they offer and where they extend to?"
Presley smiles at that. "You got a pen?"
I nod, shrugging the backpack off my shoulder as I pull out a miscellaneous pen on the side of my backpack. I give it to him.
"Give me your hand," he directs, and I follow through. He takes my hand as he clicks the top, springing the ink and he begins to write onto my skin. It tickles a little bit, and I almost squirm underneath his hold, but I held still enough for him to give me the information I needed.
"Here," he returns the pen, and I look down at his nice handwriting. "That's the application website and it'll tell you everything you need about the program. If you ever want to talk to me personally, just contact their office and ask for my name. They'll redirect you to me."
I grin. This is it. This is how I'm going to leave.
I jump for joy, and somehow, in the surge of happiness, I lean forward and tackle him into a hug.
Presley was taken by surprise, but through it, he returns the hug. I'm so happy that I hugged a complete stranger for the hell of it.
I pull back at the bell ring, reminding me of the time and I look at him.
"Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!" I declare with a grin, turning around as I rush down to my next class, trying really hard not to smudge the writing on my hand.
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AVA'S NOTES
i'm currently doing a q&a on my instagram, right now (03/02/2020) and it's opened for a day. if you guys swing by on my instagram, and ask me any questions you'll like—i might even answers spoilers. :)
anyways: please vote and comment!!!