My 1st Prom

Date: 2/6, Thurs

      We sit alphabetically according to our last names on the first day of finals. 5 tables in a column. I find myself in the middle of a side column. Which means two classmates will pass our exam papers before me, and I'll pass on two others. I notice a sticker stuck on a table leg precisely when I sit down. "Gyan sitted here" was scrawled on it. A dirty table, it seems, for a dirty person. How fitting.

After our first exam, all four wiped their palms with tissue, just like how they tend to do so in midterms. I would've thought they were getting rid of hand sweat if not for the disgust on their faces. Forbidding myself from being sad, I concentrate on something else, like that new plastic box containing sparkly sticks-sparkle pens on the teachers' desk. The so-called token of appreciation. All S1G2 girls can use them as classroom facilities, boys can't. They sparkle like jewellery, embracing sunlight.

Having plenty of time for cramming, I scan my notes. Several clinks sound out from underneath. I cautiously peer downwards. A pencil lies motionless under the chair. I'm not going to touch it. I highlight a whole paragraph. 'Excuse me.' Nick flitters over, his gaze pins on the pencil. I lift my legs up, adjusting them until I'm cross legged . 'Can you pick it up for me?' He asks. I shrug, bending over to reach underneath. 'Whoa. I can do that myself.' He grabs it, kneeling. Instead of saying anything, I sit up straight, absently highlighting a sentence. Is there something in my right ear ?

'Oh Celestia. What's the time?' He stands up, voice carrying a certain degree of softness. A hot guy like him might already have a girlfriend. I point to a clock hanging on the wall, not bothering to raise my eyes from the study material. Get the time now? He only raises a hand to his ear, 'I can't hear you!' I try being friendly - just this once- by tapping my watch silently. Nick didn't exactly agree on the not talking thing. He plays dumb, 'What?' I flip my iPad flap open, then point to the time on screen before his eyes. 'You might want to speak up.' He coaxes with featherlight interest, 'Are you in a bad mood? Too bad, then. I was thinking-' 'Sheesh,' Eva heads over to us, 'what is your problem? Answer him.' I flinch at her sickening presence. S1G2 people turn their attention to us. Her merciless eyes narrow to slits. Make me. 'What's the matter? Hurry up, mutey. Tell him the time!' She scoffs, payback for what I did. 'Not now, Eva,' Nick drawls, effectively shushing her.

'How's the number one cutie?' Nick cajoles in a second approach. I look Nick dead in his brown eyes. Nothing can be more intense than his eyes. Eva beams, 'I'm f-' Her overinflated ego is far too much. Far too freaking much. I clear my throat, 'Ask the mirror.' I would've thought time halted if I didn't see Eva glaring. Nick looks more glad than the time he received full marks on a French dictation. 'Time! Idiot, the time!' Eva's fingers twitch, likely from the thought of strangling me. Nick nudges her and knocks on the table twice apologetically before leaving. Joke's on her.

'It's eight fifteen,' Ms. Windy walks in, 'please get back to your seat, Eva. Time to study.' Eva moans to Nick, 'No big deal, she's mostly so damn quiet it's uncanny.' He blows me a friendly kiss before leaving. Do I appear to be kissable? Everyone finds something else to eyeball at once. Seeing him getting further and further away lights up a relentless, fiery thing in me. 'Good luck on your exams,' I say. I could've sworn he stops for half a second there, 'You too.'

Ms. Windy leaves S1G2 after the study period, taking other classes' exam sheets along. A few S1G2 people do stress relief yoga poses. None of them are in their seats for break, they're all standing up while enthusiastically discussing how difficult the exam was. Not wanting to be the only person alone, I look around for Apple and spot her facing the wall. She's stuffing a blackish cylinder in her pocket. Go on, pretend you belong. 'How's the exam?' I sidle up to her. She turns around and her pupils widen, 'Celestia!' She exclaims, 'Totally didn't see you! I was busy cleaning my stationary.' 'I didn't ask about your permanent marker,' I desperately pray she's not giving me the cold shoulder, 'How's the exam?' 'Super difficult. I really don't get how shaking hands can relate to a two-sided argumentative essay.' I invite her to chat, 'How long did you study for reading comprehension?' '2 hours per day.' Her reply is shorter than the shortest person in class. 'How's the last part of the exam?' I make a final effort. Our conversation isn't real enough. 'Meh,' she waves her hand. That's that. 'Nice talking with you.' I say as a last resort.