All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

THREE

all night by hawai

Since the morning, everything has been— I don't know— off, I guess. Running into my nameless neighbor who I didn't even know existed until yesterday evening and talking briefly about ourselves threw me for a loop, but what especially did it was the fact that he knows so much about me. Was he watching me through my bedroom window all this time? Does he watch me go to school? Does he watch me in class? Jesus, what classes of mine is he even in?

First period came and instead of moping in with my head down, my eyes are up. Even as I sit down in my unassigned assigned seat in the back corner, I'm watching students march in. I've been going to school with these kids since I was five, and none of them look familiar.

How can I be so oblivious and so ignorant to ignore everyone around me? Am I really that self-absorbed? Let's rephrase: am I really that careless?

The bell rings, and the soft roar of students' voices begins to die down. I search the room in hopes that I'll see the young man I spoke with this morning, but I don't. I look over the room three times before sighing, realizing I'll have to wait about forty-five minutes for my next class to do it again.

And I do.

Pre-calculus starts at nine, and I watch the door like a hawk, still not seeing my neighbor. I do it again for my College Prep class, and still notice that he's not there.

Once I begin to think that he was lying about us being in three classes together, I notice him walking into my art class, books tucked under his arm and a pencil in his hand. He's looking directly ahead of him, not noticing me at my table where I sat with one other kid who didn't talk either.

Why would he notice me? I mean, he has noticed me already, but why would he give me the time of day again?

I stiffen up, then swallow my nerves in hopes that he won't sit next to me. Although he seems nice, I'm not sure how I feel about introducing a new person to my boring life. That, and I don't want to really like him only for him to find out that he sees just how dreadful my life is. Also, who's to say he even wants to be a part of my ever so stagnant life?

Looking down, I shift on my stool before biting my lip and waiting for the teacher to come in so we can get started immediately. I'm not that excited about class, I just don't want to have to converse with someone I barely know and make small talk some more. It's not worth it, because I'm not worth it.

I hear a stool being pulled out from my table, startling me and pulling me from my thoughts instantly. With a thudding heart, I calm down when I see that it's only Kevin, the kid who sits with me everyday but doesn't talk much. He doesn't sit with me because he wants to, either. I assume it's because neither of us have friends in the class, and maybe I'm more approachable. Or maybe it's because he knows I won't interject. Or maybe it's because he knows I won't talk at all.

Kevin and I catch eyes, in which case I force a barely-there smile and look back down. He's sort of cute, and very quiet. He gives me a run for my money in terms of minding my business, seeing as I don't know anything about him other than his name is Kevin ... and he's quiet.

Class begins, and I intentionally avoid figuring out where Nameless Neighbor sits— yeah, that's what I'll call him. Original, I know. Perhaps it's better if I don't know his name, because it's not like it really matters anyways. We'll never speak, unless it's purely out of coincidental running into one another. That's how it is with everybody.

"Alright class," Miss Maddox waltzes into the room from out in the hallway, her long peasant skirt flowing with her like a peacock's feathers. She's the typical earthy, free-spirited art teacher you'd see at any school. Her red hair was wild and always looking like it needed to be brushed. And like every other art teacher, she's extremely nice and laid back, too. It makes me wonder if there's a law stating women can only be art teachers if they fall into the stereotype.