The Silence Between Us ✓

[5] Orthodox Man

And guess what? Nothing changed. I secretly knew it wouldn't. I mean, come on, the only real way people would ACTUALLY accept me would be to be normal and that was pretty impossible.

I walked through the doors with the same feelings, speed walked past the corridors with the same looks being thrown at me. Nothing was ever going to change and I just had to accept it. I was a weirdo and that would forever be my title. What made me think any different I didn't know, but what I did know was that I didn't have English that day, so at least I didn't have to face Noah. I didn't have to feel like everyone was watching me to see how the project was going to go with him and then hear them whispering all around me. I didn't have to play the shy girl role that Noah was expecting and all I had to do is get through another normal day of school.

I don't know why but the thought of another normal day brought some comfort; I'd been going through normal days for the past year – days where nobody even gave a hint of recognition and the only person who actually properly talked to me was Elliot. I knew how to navigate it at least.

At break time whilst texting Elliot, I was attempting to write the first chapter of the coursework. I had no idea what it could be about or what it should be about. I don't know why I cared so much, but it felt like Noah would judge me for whatever I wrote like he would scan every word and make inferences about me from it. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first person I'd actually made sort-of friends within the school or that the only people I ever talk to I'd known for at least two years. I decided after a while that it would probably be best to ask Elliot's advice for this.

Elliot, I need help
Erm... yes? My really really smart friend is actually asking ME for help?!
Shush – you're saying it like I'm massively above you
Isn't that the truth?
No, not at all.
Anyway – if you had to write a story for school what would you write it about?
Dragons - all the way
You've got way too into Game of Thrones
How can you not? It's the most amazing show ever!
Ok, but I need ideas that look like I haven't plagiarised please
Honestly, you should try to write something fantasy based – it gives you soooo much space to do whatever you want
I'll bear that in mind
Wait isn't this the PARTNERED coursework element for English?
Perhaps.
I HAVE TO KNOW EVERYTHING! WHO'S YOUR PARTNER?
I have unfortunately been paired up with one of the popular boys
OMG, THIS IS PERFECT!!! I'VE GOT A FRONT SEAT TO AN ACTUAL ROMANTIC COMEDY
Shut up it's not like that! He told me SPECIFICALLY not to include romance into the story AND he probably hates me
He doesn't! Honestly, when he gets to know you it'll be fine!
Have you told him anything yet?
No .I don't want to
Why? You know it's better to just get it out of the way
I know but I don't want things to get awkward - you know how it is with people when they find out and everything.
I get that. Well, ENJOY! I can't believe my best friend has got an almost boyfriend already :)
SHUT UP! HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!
DUH that's why I said ALMOST
Goodbye!
That's fair.

Despite the fact that Elliot was sure that Noah would become my boyfriend (Which was never going to happen), I did feel considerably better after talking to him. Honestly, I don't know how I would have survived high school if I hadn't had Elliot always there for me. He was like my number one fan; the person that I always knew would support me with anything, even if it was just help with what genre to write a story in. It was fate that we met when we did and he made the hell I faced everyday worth it because I wouldn't have met him otherwise.

And then the bell rang and I looked down at my blank sheet of paper in despair. I'd never found writing so difficult in my life! Oh well, it had to be done and that was that. I should stop caring about what Noah thought about it because at the end of the day, his opinion didn't matter too much to me; all I needed to do was make it readable enough to get me a good grade to take to college. That's all I had to do, or so I thought anyway.

XXX

It wasn't long before I was back in History with Mr Harold AKA my worst teacher. At least Mrs Porter did seem to care about me in some way and did make the effort to be nice to me, but Mr Harold did none of this. He completely ignored me for most lessons, and when he didn't, for example when I left later than everyone else, he would stare and make me uncomfortable. It was like he hated me or something. I didn't know why and I didn't really want to find out.

I walked in slowly, resumed my seat at the back of the class and got my book out. He'd refused to mark it – apparently he 'didn't have to put in any effort' since that's 'exactly what I do'. I didn't know what I'd done to offend him so much but it wasn't like I could fight back; at the end of the day, I couldn't lie that I didn't interact with the lesson. It was just that I physically couldn't - not that I wouldn't. He marked my exams at least and had given me good enough grades despite his personal issues with me.

We were receiving exams that lesson – the ones that we'd completed before the summer holidays. Yes, that's right, Mr Harold made us take an exam the day before we broke up for the summer because he was just that nice. He was the kind of teacher that thought he was being cruel to be kind in testing us so rigorously and making learning facts like they were meant to be torture. In a way, he did get the job done - most of the class were passing - but it didn't feel worth it somehow.

"Well done Brianna!" He said sarcastically, shoving her paper on the table. She went bright red and I felt a pang of sympathy for her – she had dyslexia and obviously found writing whole history essays pretty difficult. Sometimes I wondered if Mr Harold even had a heart or a lump of stone there instead.

He was silent as he slipped me my test, not even bothering to look at me. As I said before, today was a normal day in my life at school. I got an A at least, so he couldn't hate me that much. Although I do have to say that perhaps my good grades made him more aggravated than before – that if I wasn't doing so well, he'd at least be able to justify his actions towards me. Mr Harold probably thought that his nastiness affected me a lot more than it actually did – to be honest, I'd grown accustomed to people saying unfavourable things about me so I had quite a thick skin. It did help that I knew that I could land him in quite a bit of trouble if I wanted to as well; sometimes the temptation of telling my mum who would definitely tell Mrs Porter was too much and I had to stop myself. I don't know why I was opposed to the idea, but I knew that it had something to do with the fact that I didn't think I was worthy of getting a teacher in trouble.

I looked up to see Noah and his friends talking. I didn't get it: why was he being so nice to me? How could someone who liked talking to Harrison Taylor still maintain a decent conversation with ME? I still remember the first time I realised who Harrison was and promised myself to avoid him at all costs. That was when I had the epiphany that the next two years of my life were going to be hell and I could do nothing to stop it. Sometimes I still felt the ringing in my ears from his relentless shouting that time.

I was faced with the blank piece of paper at lunchtime again. This time I figured that maybe I should care what Noah would make of this because maybe, and this was a big stretch, I could make him understand. Maybe I could make him see why Harrison and Mr Harold shouldn't exist and that people should stop judging me for what I can't do. Maybe I could use this to finally speak out against everything that other people had said. I knew that it was a bold statement, but also knew that I was finally ready to reply.