Breathe me Home | NaNoWriMo 2016

Chapter 13

So after one day on my project, I've accomplished zilch.
If we're going to spend two hours a day, three days a week, listening to the ocean, I'll never get anything accomplished. And it's Thursday now. No work will get done today. Practically a whole week has gone by since Mrs. Ash assigned the project, and I'm still on square one. Ground zero. Start here.
Jonas sidles in and gives me a nod. I lift my hand about an inch from my desk to wave, then shake my head before he can come over and talk to me. I'm not sure why, but part of me wants to keep this whole partnership a secret. Even if I can't live my preferred life of solitude, I can at least pretend and avoid further relationships with the other kids in my class.
That fantasy lasts about three seconds.
The idiots across from me, the same idiots who set me up with their little practical joke, whistle and hoot at Jonas the moment his rear hits the seat.
"Hey, bro, how's your partner?"
Laughter.
"You guys picking out china yet?'
Uproarious laughter.
"Name the baby after me."
Falling all over themselves, punching each other on the arms laughter.
Okay, I knew 7th grade boys were immature, but, I mean, this is beyond the pale, right?
Because I'm staring down at my desk while my face grows three shades of red, I almost miss Lana walking in in the middle of this onslaught of stupid.
Her shadow crosses the corner of my desk and I look up to see her, stopped dead in front of the class. Her face goes from her usual indifference to confusion, to pain, and then to the final stage of our study on female 7th grade psychology—she's pissed.
If I could have dug a quick me-sized hole in the floor and dropped in, that would have been the moment. Lana's eyes land on me like a baseball bat. Then on Jonas, who also is doing his best to build his personal cone of silence.
Nothing is spoken between any of us. Lana slips down her row and settles into her seat, back stiff, palms flat on her book. I'm pretty sure she'd break in half if someone bumped into her. And if vibes could kill, I'd be in splinters by now.
Mrs. Ashe breaks the tension. Okay, she puts a small crack in the tension, when she enters the room. "Settle down, everyone."
As our teacher squeaks chalk across the board, I watch Lana. Even her long blonde hair seems to stiffen. Brittle like dry spaghetti. The only movement is a slight trembling of her hands.
Oh, boy.
After a few minutes, she tears a page out of her notebook and scribbles something on it. While Mrs. Ashe is still writing on the board, Lana folds it and passes it back to Jonas.
What did she she say to him? Is she finally telling him how she feels and is expressly demanding that he break off this little partnership of our?
And then Jonas passes the note to me.
I stare at it for long seconds as Mrs. Ashe drones on about the role of local government, a topic for which a navy brat has little interest, since we're never local for long.
Finally, I unfold the line paper and flatten it in my own notebook.
It's one line.
What did I ever do to you?
When I look up at Lana, she's turned her face toward me.
She's crying.