Clever Reflections

THREE- Cinna

Why was I grinning? His guess was as good as mine. But when Salem dragged me to a corner and in all seriousness asked me to eat lunch with him, it was all I could do not to laugh outright. I only stayed silent for so long on pure willpower because he was trembling so badly, it would have seemed cruel to crow. I consulted myself, wondering at the probability of me causing serious injury or death to Salem in the act of eating lunch near him. Don't count on it, I quoted the Sacred Eight Ball. Idle reassurance perhaps, but it calmed me enough to recognize the slim chance of harming him.
Salem was still standing there, question in his pale eyes and furrowed brow.
"Well," I said, feigning indecision and fighting my smile, "it's not like I have any where else to sit," I hoped that didn't sound too rude. I was unused to speaking to people who weren't adults and weren't tormentors and honestly, I had needed the consideration. Otherwise I would have been left awkwardly following him to his eating place or scratching out a corner somewhere else. Thankfully, Salem grinned hesitantly to match my own, eyes wide and body shedding tension. He nodded curtly and continued walking in the same direction we'd been heading before. I followed at a safe distance and caught him executing a small fist-pump that I definitely wasn't supposed to see. Perhaps his people skills were as off-point as mine.
Salem was not Hispanic or Latino or Indian as people told me I looked. His skin was fair and his hair was a medium brown, thick, wavy and sticking up and out in various and numerous directions. His eyes were a strange light grey, like the reflection of stormclouds, with slight bags under them as if he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. He was tall and lanky, but didn't seem as clumsy as me, or as ill-fated. He had dyslexia. And he drew in the margins of his notebooks which he'd lent me so I wouldn't be completely lost. His handwriting was hell, but I could recognize the places where his disability might have hindered his penmanship, as they were places I might have checked myself as well. His condition was definitely worse than mine, but I noticed similar tendencies.

Along with each feature, I ticked off one more thing that was likely to happen to Salem with me around. He'd fall and break his head; he'd misread a roadsign; he'd be set upon by a gang; he'd be exhausted to the point of contracting a deadly illness... the list went on. But still I was tired of being alone in the world. I had parents. I was going to be here as long as I could keep them safe. Now I needed an ally. And by the looks of it, so did Salem.

Our diversion must have taken up more time than Salem accounted for, because the bell trilled right as we crossed the threshold of the classroom. I tripped at the sound, my mind immediately jumping to Warning! And Fire! As it was I fell into Salem's back and, to my surprise he barely even budged, but slyly motioned with his hand for me to right myself, still blocking me from the view of the rest of the classroom. I reddened a bit, but followed his calm instruction, seeping gratitude.

We moved in, and I prepared to find the teacher and declare myself as usual, when both of us stopped dead. Outlook not so good, and for the second time that day. I would say 'just my luck' but luck is not a term I'm particularly familiar with. The other rooms had been full, but not as overcrowded as this. Before me lay maybe thirty-two students, rolling around from leaning on their desks to plopping behind them. I could have fainted just for the sheer number of tripping hazards that crowded the tacky floor, but even these were not the source of my distress. I stopped because there were thirty-two students actively seating themselves in thirty-three seats, and two of Salem and I.

I looked at Salem. Salem was looking at me. Salem quickly looked out the open doorway. I looked out the open doorway. Coming down the hall in a bustle of papers was a tall woman with possibly the best hair ever to grace a human's head. She was wrestling a long lab coat off with one hand while balancing a coffee mug and some sort of file in the other. I cringed away, waiting for the papers to fall; the mug to shatter; the ensemble to come crashing down, but the woman merely powered on, using her momentum to keep everything up. She got to the door and made eye contact with Salem, who put his hands out like he was used to assisting the woman.