The Sound of Water (BoyxBoy)

2

I slam the door to the English classroom open, dropping my hands to my knees as I try to catch enough breath to apologise to Mr. A for being late.

'Sorry, Mr. A-' I gasp out, wiping the heel of my hand over my eyes, '-soccer practise ran late.'

'It's fine Peter,' Mr. A waves me into the room, a calm expression on his face. Mr. A is probably my favourite teacher, he's always super chill, and never gives me a detention when I'm late to class...which is probably good, because I already have rubbish duty at lunchtime for the rest of the week. Thanks Mr. Smith.

'Take a seat.'

I stand upright, one hand gripping the strap of my school bag on my shoulder.

Normally I sit next to my best friend, Nazzim, but today my usual seat has been taken by one of the other boys. Nazzim gives me an apologetic smile, I look around, trying to find a spare seat.

Jacob King is sitting in the second row, his messy black hair damp at the tips. He's the only student with an empty chair beside him. I swallow and take a seat.

Immediately, I'm hit by the smell of chlorine, the chemical bite of it burning my nose each time I draw in a breath of air. Jacob doesn't acknowledge me when I take a seat, instead he just twirls a biro pen between his fingers and stares down at an empty page of notes.

He also isn't in uniform, with a baggy black hoodie layered underneath his too-big school blazer.

My Mum would kill me if I showed up out of uniform. She always says that I have to make the best impression possible. That's usually followed by yet another lecture on safe sex. Nazzim says his parents are really squeamish about sex, which I guess makes sense (they had Nazzim when they were in their thirties), but it still weirds me out because I can talk to Mum about anything.

Jacob never really talks much, and I don't think he has any friends. It's not that he's weird or anything, or that no one likes him.

Nazzim says it's because Jacob's scary.

I just think Jacob's shy.

Mr. A has started writing notes down on the whiteboard, muttering a few swear words when the ink of his green whiteboard marker runs out. I pull out my own notebook and copy down the legible sections of Mr. A's notes in my illegible handwriting.

I glance over at Jacob's notes, wondering what his handwriting looks like, and realise that he's drawing instead of taking notes.

'Woah, you're really good.' I whisper. Jacob stops drawing, the outline of a female portrait only half finished, and looks up at me silently. I smile at him, pointing down at the picture, 'she's really pretty.'

He nods, features expressionless, and goes back to drawing without speaking a word. I don't mind, like I said before, I'm pretty sure Jacob's just shy.

'Peter, Jacob-' Mr. A calls out, '-you two are going to be partners for the presentation project, alright?'

When Jacob doesn't respond to Mr. A, I nod my head and give our English teacher the thumbs up for him. Jacob pushes some of his still damp (chlorine dried, not messy, now that I'm close enough to notice) hair out of his eyes, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he does the eyelashes on the girl he's drawing.

I don't really get why my classmates think Jacob's scary, or why they talk like he's super hard to get close to. He's always just seemed a little lonely to me, like he doesn't know how to situate himself with everyone else around him. I pull my phone out of my pocket and slide it across the desk toward him.

'Hey, put your number in so I can message you about the presentation.'

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