Flowers of Desires

Chapter 1: The First Letter of Many

Friday, August 22

His rushed footsteps echoed down the hall as he moved his feet in quick strides. The halls were all empty, with no one in sight due to the fact that classes were in session. The plain, beige walls seemed to be moving with him, he thought. They were encouraging him to walk faster, or maybe they were taunting him, threatening to close in at any time, making him even later than he already was.

He reached the classroom door, pushing it open as quietly as possible, though he knew everyone would be aware of it opening because of the creak of the hinges. He made his way down the aisle to his open seat, purposely looking at the floor, knowing many pairs of eyes were on him. He was thankful that the professor continued talking through his interruption. He eased into his chair, never looking up, and took out his notebook.

After the lecture, everyone scrambled to rush out the door, not wanting to stick around longer than they had to. As the students filed out the door, the professor rose from his desk at the front of the room.

"Clay Wicker, stay behind for a minute."

Clay closed his eyes and sighed heavily, wishing he was anywhere but here. He threw his belongings into his backpack and put it on as he watched the other students exit the room. Lucky, he thought as they passed by, most wearing smiles. Once the aisle was clear, he slowly walked to Professor Wilson's desk, purposely dragging his feet, prolonging the start of the interaction for as long as possible.

"Yes sir?" Clay asked when he finally reached the desk.

Professor Wilson had begun packing his leather bag with papers, this being his last class of the day. "You were late to my class again," he said, obviously annoyed. He looked up, expecting a response and Clay looked away to stare at the large whiteboard behind him.

"Sorry about that. I lost track of time," Clay replied, hoping the answer would get the professor off his case.

Professor Wilson hummed at the answer. "Well, have you decided what you're going to write your psychology report on? This is the first grade of the year."

Clay shifted his weight to his other foot and sighed. "I'm working on that," he answered.

"I'm expecting something good from you, Clay. You were top of my class last year and I hope to see the same this year," Professor Wilson acknowledged, shooting Clay a somewhat strained smile. "You missed a few details, but you can get the information from Miss Bressett. I know you two are friends."

Clay held back an eye roll. "Yes sir, I will."

"Good. I'll see you on Monday, hopefully on time," Professor Wilson responded, turning away from Clay to finish gathering his things.

Clay turned away as well, pushing his curls out of his face, and walking towards the door. When he pushed the classroom door open, he spotted Elora leaning against the wall beside the classroom, waiting for him. Clay walked toward her, watching as her straight face turned into a friendly smile, her brown eyes gleaming.

"God, could you have taken any longer?" she asked as she pushed herself off the wall to walk beside Clay.

Clay did roll his eyes this time, falling in pace with Elora's steps. "Well, I'm sorry that Wilson always has something to say to me."

Elora snorted a laugh. "You are the chosen one, Clay. I expect great things from you," she mimicked in a deep voice, poorly matching Wilson's.

"I think that sums up every conversation ever with Wilson," Clay responded, chuckling at Elora.

"You got that right," Elora agreed. "He thinks you need a little push to actually get any work done." Clay and she always found a way to talk about Wilson, who, even during class, never seemed to know when to stop talking.