Lessons of Indifference

chapter seven

I have no excuse. I do not have a reason not to turn in homework, or to have been absent yesterday. My mind is just astray. Biology comes sooner than expected, and i am trembling when I enter the room. I search the room intently in hopes of not seeing Luke's face. Anatomy posters, periodic tables, bacteria diagrams leave almost no empty space on the walls. I examine the occupants of the room carefully, and my eyes land on the boy in the back of the classroom. Everett. Our eyes connect for a single second before I move my eyes to the floor and begin walking across the room. "Miss Sommors?" Mr Parker beckons me to come to his desk. I swivel my feet and walk cautiously to where he stands behind the dark wood desk. He is not very tall for a man his age, but I would expect him to be a college professor instead of a high school teacher. He wears round glasses with small, gray eyes peering through. His beard is the color of the sky before it starts raining, almost dark gray, but with white flakes in it. He almost looks like a young Santa Clause, despite his slender figure.

"I would like to reassign you a lab partner," He says. I nod in response, but I keep my expression placid. "So," He continues, observing the room. "There aren't many students with permanent partners."

Suddenly, I feel an arm around my neck, and there is a girl next to me. "Hey Faye!" She exclaims.

"Hello, Emma," Mr Parker says. "Emma, do you have a lab partner?" She shakes her head and looks like she is about to speak, but Mr. Parker interrupts her. "Would you be willing to be Faye's partner?" She nods ecstatically. "I'd love to!"

Mr. Parker smiles. "Good. Take your seats girls."

"Come on!!" Emma squeals, grabbing my arm and pulling to toward the back of the room. Each desk is big enough for two chairs to fit under. Emma sits in one and I sit in the other. On the desk are carvings and names written in permanent marker. I run my fingers over the deepest carving of all of them. A heart, with the initials "MH + DK '04" scratched into the wood. I trace the heart with my index finger while biting my lip. I wonder if I will ever find love or get married. I wonder how MH and DK are now. They are all grown up now, probably too busy to think about high school romances. I wonder if they still keep in touch. Maybe they still love each other. It must be love if they cared enough about each other to vandalize the school's desk. I have never been in love. I do not know if love makes you do crazy things, but that's what I hear. Maybe I would be a more free person if I had loved a boy. I am not the type of person who lets my shield down that easily. I have even created a stronger shield since I've been alone. I guess solitude makes a person more isolated from the world, even when they are not alone anymore. My thought is interrupted a nudge in the shoulder. I turn to see Emma's face blushing. I wonder if my face ever looks like that. The color in her cheeks bring life to her eyes. I wonder if that is just a happy upbringing that gives her the excitement about her appearance. She leans over her notebook and writes something down in neat and curly handwriting. I pull it closer to read it. "Don't you think that guy Everett is cute?" The sentence is decorated with hearts. I shrug. I don't know what 'cute' is. I have never payed attention to the physical appearance of a boy. Emma giggles. After a moment of silence, with only Mr. Parker's lecture to listen to, I turn my head very, very slowly to where I know Everett sits. Two rows behind me, and one to the left. I crane my neck just barely enough to see his figure through my hair that hangs in front of my face. I reach up and push my hair out of my face, careful not to make any noise. My chin hugs my shoulder, and I watch Everett taking notes in his notebook. I don't know if this is what Emma was reffering to, but he does have a kind of engaging charm to him. The way he purses his lips in concentration while he writes, or the way he tilts his head slightly to the side. Once my eyes are locked on him, I cannot seem to release my glance. I watch as he puts his pencil down and sits back in his chair. His eyes wander the room, and land right on my eyes. Something that feels like lightning shoots down to my core, and I instantly twist my head back to my desk and focus on my notebook, my hair flinging around after me. My left hand meets my forehead, blocking any way of looking back. I control my breaths carefully, and write everything I see on the board with violent scribbling. No more.