Ethel 'n Opal

five

o p a l   t r e v o r

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No one really asks for chemistry last period. I know I sure didn't. But that's just how my schedule was from the beginning of junior year. So I saw no point in changing it this time around for the second semester. That would just mess up the order of things and complicate the friendships I've already made in my classes.

Lunch isn't over yet so the new period hasn't started. But I came up early before everyone else anyways, and Ms. Jackson - the chemistry teacher - had no issue with this since I'm always up here helping her with grading, organizing, or just doing random work on mondays like this. 

When I walked in the room, we'd chatted for a little bit, and then I went to my seat so she could prepare for the lesson. I laid my head on the table, staring out the window beside me. The following minutes consisted of students coming in and getting settled, but I don't pay them any mind. 

The second bell rings, signaling the end of the last period, and through the window I watch some of the kids out on the lawn gather their stuff, before making their way inside.

 "'Sup, Opal." I look up to see Isaiah, a friend from student council, and offer him a close-lipped smile when he pulls out the seat next to me.

"Okay guys!", Ms. Jackson claps and her voice echos throughout the room along with the sound, "I feel like shaking things up a little this semester. So that means new routines, new topics, and of course new partners-" 

Many of us groan, some actually voice their protests, while the rest of the class try to negotiate who their new partners can be. Ms. Jackson, ever the diplomat, laughs at all this, "I know, I know. But change is good and you guys need to practice the skill of working with different people anyways. When I call you, please just get up and move."

She starts going through a list of names and the natural organized chaos of the classroom ensues. Chairs scratch against the floor, people swap seats begrudgingly, some are moved to a whole different section of the classroom in general. A handful drag their feet, prolonging the whole thing. Few are actually happy with their new seats while others bicker with Ms. Jackson about their distaste for theirs. I take this all in, not really affected, and continue my conversation with Isaiah about the show Arcane: League of Legends. 

It isn't until she calls out a particular name that I'm on high alert.

"Ethel Dixon?" My head reflexively snaps to the front of the room and I slowly slouch in my seat to play off my eagerness. It isn't lost on me when Isaiah pauses briefly to give me a confused look. I wave it off and he continues, as does my mind.

I've never seen her in this class before, nor has that name ever been called here.

Could it be a different Ethel?

Ms. Jackson points at my table, "Can you please come to this table right here next to Opal. Sorry Isaiah, you're gonna have to move hon." I feel myself freeze when he stands, going wherever. But then someone else takes his place. It is her.

Ethel adorns the bland school uniform like the rest of us, but somehow makes something as dull as that look lovely on her. The navy blue khaki pants hug her figure with a perfect fit, along with a clean pair of baby blue jordans on her feet. The sleeves of her white button up are bunched at her elbows, a few buttons left undone to reveal a small sliver of skin. She has a green sweater tied at her neck in this posh kind of way, a couple of accessories sprinkled here and there. Simple, yet elegant.