||My Invisible Wound||

||The Partner||

      c h a p t e r | t h r e e

     I said goodbye to Elyes as I walked into my English class. The desks were arranged in pairs; each pair had two desks in front of each other. "What is this?" I asked my teacher as she was writing the date on the whiteboard.

      "Good morning, Aly," she greeted me. "We're going to have partners today." I examined her handwriting as if I was staring at an angel writing on the board; it was so delicate and precise. I envied how she wrote the date and then continued to write that we're able to sit anywhere. Her cursive was beautiful. I smiled; wanting to learn how she did it. She turned to me and said, "Go ahead. Sit anywhere for right now. I'll be moving people anyway."

      I nodded once, sat somewhere, and put the binder I was holding on my desk.

     As time went by, the bell rang and students were piling inside the room. I was always the first one in the class. I didn't like to be late.

      When Mrs.Patterson closed the door to start the class, she pointed to the board and told us that she'd be moving us. We understood. She looked at a clipboard and started to put students in pairs of two.

      She said my name and I put my stuff in my arms and stood up, going to the front of the class where others were. "Alysha, you are paired with Jake." I looked at her first and wondered who she was talking about, until it hit me that Jake was in the back of the class. An open seat was in front of him.

      I swallowed hard and made my way to him.

      He smiled, showing his almost straight teeth from the braces he once had on in middle school. His acne hadn't cleared up since then, but he had more freckles it seemed like. He didn't say anything, but just stared at me with a crooked smile on his face, like he remembered me, like I was his best victim.

      I tried my best not to get distracted, so I paid attention to Mrs. Patterson who told us that we had to write a story together based on what we know from one another. I didn't want to go through with that. Not at all. Jake was the one person I would never want to be partners with, especially if it was for a story.

      Once it was time to brainstorm and talk, I sunk in my desk and ran my fingers through my hair; the strands got in the way of my eyes and I looked down at my desk, not wanting to make eye contact.

      "We have to talk sometime," he said.

      I continued to stay silent.

      Through a gap, I saw him look to the right and laughed. I turned my eyes to where he was looking at. It was Brandon. I wanted nothing more than to scream and hurt both of them, but my body felt like it was made of stone;rock that was dared to not move, even if the wind would knock it down.

      "What is your problem?" he whispered.

      That was when I lost it. "What is my problem? What is yours?" I didn't yell or made a scene, but I just talked naturally, like everyone else. Though inside, I was screaming until my uvula broke off.

      "Whoa, don't get all feisty. What did I ever do to you?"

      "You're going to be that ignorant?"

      "What do you mean?"

      "Don't you even remember me?"

      He paused. He continued to stare at me in the eyes as if he was concentrating, focusing on the past. "Nope."

      "Of course you don't. I was probably one of the many victims."

      "What do you mean?" he repeated.

      I wanted to say more. I needed to; he needed to know what emotional issues that he caused that year; emotional pain and hurt. But I didn't. I didn't continue to say anything else. "It doesn't matter now," I answered. I took a deep breath and exhaled while speaking. "Let's just move on." In the back of my mind, I couldn't move on.

      "Whatever," he said. As Mrs. Patterson walked around, giving two pieces of paper to each group, she stopped by ours and gave one to each of us. Jake looked at his. "So I suppose we fill this out. I'll go first in answering your questions about me, then, I guess." He took a glance toward me and then looked back down. "You gonna ask?"

      I wiped a tearaway. At first I thought he saw me do it, but he didn't say anything which made me believe he didn't see it. But I could've been wrong. "Yeah, right . . ." I look down at the questions and saw the first one. "What is your full name?"

      "Jakob James Alexander." I wrote his name next to the question.

      "What grade are you in?"

      "Twelfth grade." I continued to write.

      "Are you looking for a relationship?"

      "No." I pressed down on the mechanical pencil too hard; the lead broke off. My thumb pressed against the eraser and more lead came out. I wrote his answer.

      "Are you planning on going to college?"

      "Yes."

      "If so, what scholarship are you looking for?"

      "Football scholarship."

      "What color do you like?"

      "Green."

      "Hobbies?"

      "Wrestling for an after school class, playing with my dog, watching movies and shows."

      "Parents?"

      "Divorced; I live with my father."

      "Religion?"

      "Christian."

      The questions went on and by the time we got to the end of his part, I had to write something new I learned about him during the interview. So I wrote at the end of the page: "He's bisexual."