Next To Normal [a Samaaron fic]

Chapter Two - Aaron

I pick up my books and just walk away. Just will my feet to take it one step at a time, slowly walking in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. I knew it was for the best - it always was - but every time I touched the floor, my heart was stabbed a little bit harder. I didn't want to be walking away. I wanted to pursue her, to be gentle until she talks, to listen to her and guide her, to help her as best I can. However, she was too fragile. I hadn't learned to help people hurt that badly yet, so I walked away. And every step since then, I deeply regretted my decision.

The bell rings, and I am then forced to snap out of my own thoughts and return to my current situation. I whip out my schedule and study it closely - not that I hadn't done it enough already. I had just wanted to be prepared. I have drama first block, which made me extremely excited, so I try to control the skip in my step as I walk towards the room with joyful thoughts inside my head.

When I got there, everyone was gathered around a desk perched precariously on the edge of a small stage, papers flying everywhere. I smiled to myself. A new play must be in order, with everyone so disorganized as this.

Then a man steps out of the crowd. He is wearing a Chicago Bears sweatshirt, and he looks to be about forty-ish. He almost looks like a gym teacher, to be honest, because he was wearing a baseball cap, a whistle around his neck, and was very muscular. I blink, trying not to be too intimidated, when he blows the whistle, and everyone gathers around him. I follow suit.

"Okay, class," the man sighs as soon as everyone had formed a very lopsided ellipse around him, running a hand through his short, buzzed hair, "we're going to be starting a new production. This was actually perfect planning, since we got a new student - everyone say hi to Aaron!"

He grabs my wrist before I can protest, and I feel colour rush to my cheeks as everyone turns to stare at me. Their reaction isn't exactly as I had expected, though. Because instead of just watching, the entire groups dashes in and initiates a gigantic group hug. People everywhere welcome me into their class by squeezing the life out of me. I just smile weakly until they were done - I was SO not expecting that.

When everyone pulls away, our drama teacher looks me in the eye, grins, and hands me a sheet of paper. "I want you to sing this. Don't worry, it's not graded or anything, and no one will judge you. I just need to see where you stand in the rankings in order to give you a part," he smiles.

I nod and swallow the nerves that are building up inside me, and step up on to the little raised platform that was the classroom stage. All eyes on me. I plant my feet shoulder-length apart, and look down at the paper, hoping to see a song I might know.

"'Dancing Through Life' - from the musical Wicked - Fiyero set one".

I grinn and fold the paper in half. I've had this song memorized long ago when I was in my Wicked "stage" - the lyrics were already buzzing in my head. So I fix my eyes on my teacher and begin.

"The trouble with school is, they always try to teach the wrong lesson."

I do a quick few dance steps that arouse some amused chuckles, ad my confidence soars.

"Believe me, I've been kicked out of enough of them to know!

They want you to become less callow, less...shallow.

But I say, why invite stress in?

Stop studying strife and learn to live the unexamined life!"

I ee my teacher give me a thumbs-up, and glance around the room as I belt out the chorus. My voice sounds warm in the small drama room, amplified as it hit walls and bounced back, so I step up my game and put more power through each note. That way, it would create more emphasis when reaching my audience's ears. I've done this before.

"Dancing through life, skimming the surface-" I add a few more little hip swings, which cause some people to burst into silent laughter- "gliding were turf is smooth."

"Life's more painless for the brainless - those who don't try never look foolish!"

Then I stop, because my lines told me to stop. And everyone grins. And nods. And claps. And cheers. I raise my arms in the air in mock victory, and everyone laughs and claps even harder. I jump off the stage and land with a soft thud, then wait for my evaluation.

"That," the drama teacher says, a smirk on his face, "was fantastic."

The whole crowd of students bursts into rowdy applause again.

"You're a natural!" A girl comes up behind me and pats me on the back. She looks about the same age as me, with strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and shining blue eyes. "I'm Natalie, by the way. Senior. Very nice to meet you."

I laugh and shake her outstretched hand, and then she prances away into the crowd.  And that's when I decide to take the time to really survey the people in drama.  So I go over to a corner - nobody notices at all, they're too busy screeching about the possibilities of choice of the play and declaring duels to determine who would get the leading parts - and sit.  

The first person who comes to my eye is a small girl with white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes.  She is glaring maliciously at a taller boy - he has blue eyes and is nearly as pale as the girl, but, unlike the girl, has dark hair - who is teasingly waving what seems to be her play script high in the air where she cannot reach.  She complains loudly - I know it is loudly because, from all the way across the room, I can hear her voice clearly - and the boy gives in, giving her the scrip and then reaching down and ruffling her hair.  The girl squeaks in alarm and bats the boy's hand away, and he just laughs.  I watch them for a little while, questioning whether I could befriend them in the future.

The next few people I see are all in a group.  Natalie, the senior who entergetically introduced herself to me earlier, is bouncing up and down on her heels, telling some elaborate and obviously very entertaining story - I can tell she's excited by the way she waves her hands in the air like she's conducting a circus band.  There's another girl next to Natalie - she must be a freshman or a sophomore, judging by her size - with dirty blonde hair that hits her elbows and bright green eyes, and she is watching Natalie with a semi-amused expression on her face, a phone that looks a little like a Pantech in her hand.  The boy next to the blonde girl is laughing at Natalie, and every so often he sweeps his caramel-coloured hair back and away from his face - this is how I see that he has chocolate-coloured eyes and a very defined smile.  There are a few other people there as well, but I honestly couldn't care less.

Want to know why I couldn't care less?

Because that's when I saw her.

The girl.  It was almost as if she melted into the shadows of the curtains, but she must've moved at some point, because the movement caught my eye and suddenly, my people-watching session was over.  Nobody else mattered but her.  She was sitting alone, nearly curled into a ball, a notebook on her lap and earbuds in her ears, listening and doing goodness-knows-what.  A faint smile rested on her face like a kind of mysterious secret only she could enjoy.  I felt my heart rate quicken just as I watched her hand move, her eyes following her pen as she wrote or drew or whatever it was that she was doing.  I wanted to know, desperately wanted to know, what she was doing.  

I have to keep telling myself not to get up.  Not to go over to her.  Not to sit down next to her.  Certainly not to talk to her.  It was a sort of self-control practice that seemed to nearly be eating me from the inside out.  It was a kind of torture I had honestly never felt before.  I can only imagine what I look like right now.  My fingernails digging into my forearm.  Stop it.  Fight the urge.  Fight the urge.

And then the worst moment of all...the moment when I felt my heart just drop.

I felt myself unconsciously get up, place my feet in front of me, and begin to walk towards the girl.  The girl that was killing me inside.  The girl with the mysterious smile.  The fragile girl I found in the hallway.

Honestly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life.

I was there much too soon, and then I was standing in front of her.  She didn't look up, probably because she didn't hear me - not with her earbuds in, blocking out whatever scared her in this world.  She was in her own little homeade cocoon, and I felt as if I was invading.  

So I did what any normal person would do.

I sat down.