The Cassidy Boys

Chapter Seven: Lesson One

Chapter Seven: Lesson One 

I never thought I'd say I love someone's laugh until I heard yours.

Okay, now I'm confused.

Either this guy really doesn't pay attention, and has no idea where his girlfriend's locker is, or this note is actually for . . . me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I glance around the hallway for the third time in the last two minutes. My eyes frantically search for an answer, but, like the last time, the hallway is deserted. The only sign of life is a balled-up piece of paper located a few feet away that someone probably tried to shoot into the trashcan, but missed, and was too lazy to pick back up.

I look back down and scan my eyes over the familiar tiny scrawled out words. The note is in the same format as the last one. A plain old lined piece of paper with small handwriting scrawled out in the middle of it. I find myself reading it again, and my stomach dips down, flips around, and twists until I'm sure it resembles my intestines.

This note can't be for me. This note couldn't possibly be for me.

It must be a joke, because if this note really is for me, then that means someone has possibly noticed me, and has taken the time to write some things down. Some slightly creepy, yet nice things, that could possibly mean they could, I don't know, maybe even . . . like me?

My teeth sink into my lower lip as that thought continues to echo inside my head. That completely baffling, yet exhilarating thought that makes my heart thump a little harder against my ribcage, and a small ghost of a smile breaking out across my lips.

The expression falters, though, as another thought enters my brain, crushes the baffling, yet exhilarating thought to pieces, and shatters the hope that began to grow inside my chest.

As much as I love myself, and as much as I know it's possible, it just seems too good to be true.

I mean, why now?

I've been in high school for three years and I've had my line crushes, but I'm still the girl who's never been in a relationship. I'm still the girl who's never been kissed. I'm still the girl who prefers to keep to herself and do the work that is required of her rather than chase after people who aren't, and who never truly will be my friends. And as confident as I am in myself, over these past few years, I have learned one thing.

As nice it is to daydream about possibilities, set high standards, and look towards the future, you can't always have high hopes. Because with high hopes comes expectations, and most of the time expectations aren't met, and when they aren't met you get . . . crushed.

****

Wednesday is called hump day because it's smack dab in the middle of the week. Although I hate when teachers use "happy hump day" as a greeting when you walk into class, I'll admit that getting through a Wednesday feels like a literal hump. I can no longer complain about Monday, but the weekend is still a distant dream. I'm more irritated, people are more irritating, and classes seem to be endless. The teacher just drags on and on, and all I want to do is stab my eyes out with my pen, but I can't because I need it, and my eyes to continue taking notes.

I shift around in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs, itching to leave this class. I push my glasses further up the bridge of my nose before passing a glance over at the clock hanging above the door all the way at the other end of the room.

We only have five minutes left. Five minutes until this dreaded school day is over and I can go home, maybe even take a nap.

My eyes land on my teacher again who's talking animatedly at the front of the room. She's flinging her hands around, and her lips are moving, but I can't hear anything she's saying. My brain is fried, and I know I'm not the only one since a kid sitting a few rows away from me has his head down on the desk.