The New Kid of Mr. Vitagliano's First Period Center For Success Class

It started yesterday. This boy, whose name I have yet to discover, strutted into room B124 like he owned the place. No one had ever seen him before. He was called up to Mr. V’s desk as he placed his designer sunglasses and “gangster” hat on a random desk. Mind you, the seats are not assigned.

I tried not to eavesdrop on his conversation with the teacher, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a week ahead of where I need to be in my work, and writing fan fiction seemed a tad less important than learning of this new addition. When asked where he transfered from, he merely grunted, “Lake Havasu.”

Lake Havasu. Lake Havasu City, Arizona. Mojave desert. Four hour drive if driving through Tonapah, Quartzsite, and Parker. I know Havasu well. I’ve vacationed there every year since before I was conceived. I’ve grown up there. I have a house, a boat, and family there. I get pierced there. I know Lake Havasu. I know the people from Lake Havasu. I know his kind all too well. The arrogant, high on more than life teenagers with fast cars and faster intentions. He didn’t work his way into my heart too well.

“Are you a senior?” Mr. V asks him. His smug reply? “Super senior.”

So he’s a fifth year. Didn’t graduate in ‘09 like he should have. He’s a ‘10er now. He’s more than likely 18. He’s “superior”.

Mr. Vitagliano set him up with his work. Apparently he’ll be completing his Biology credit in this class. Biology is a freshman class in Gilbert. Now, I’m not sure how it is in Lake Havasu, so I won’t be too quick to judge on why he is missing it. After all, for me that hour is dedicated to making up the failed World Studies credit from sophomore year.

After being assigned a folder to keep his work in and a due date for his first study guide, Mystery Boy is dismissed to find a seat. He picks up his designer sunglasses, hat, and backpack from where they lay previously and chooses a different desk. The desk right next to mine. There are eleven students in this class, and twenty desks. He could have chosen anywhere. He could have chosen to sit next to Logan, since Logan is of the same genre of people. He didn’t.

He texts in class on the first day. He is left-handed. He wears glasses to read/write. He is in Naval science. He has a Metal Mulisha backpack and moves his leg in tempo with his music, same as I do. I gathered these observations from the first five minutes of his presence gracing mine. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. I’m intrigued.

Today, as I grab the World History book off of the shelf, my folder from the holder and my iPod from my backpack, he makes a noise of disgruntlement. He then turns, looks directly at me, and says, “Do you have a pencil or a pen I could borrow?”

My insides freeze. He talked to me. I say, sweetly as I could muster, “Yeah.”

“Awesome, thank you.”

I reach into my backpack and pull out the first pencil I feel; pink. He looks at it, thanks me again, and turns to his work. I pull out another pencil for myself and, needing to say anything for his attention again, I blurt out, “I have blue if you don’t want pink.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he replies nicely, then turns to his work once more.

The tone of his voice at first, while asking for the pencil, bothered me. It was dripping that classic Havasu wanna-be gangster tone. But then, after settling back into my work, I realized something. I wore my white face powder today, and made the black eyeshadow thicker than usual. I was gothically inspired to dress. And he still chose to ask me for a pencil. Me. Someone he’s never met before. The seats are not assigned.

Mr. Vitagliano called us back to look at our grades. He was disappointed by some, but when it came to me, he was telling me how proud he is that I have a 98% in the class, and that I’m a week ahead. He said he’ll be calling home to tell them how proud they should be of me. The peculiar thing is, I’d hoped this boy would be impressed. More peculiar- he was.

I don’t know why he came, I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t know why he is the way he is. The only thing I do know is, I’m intrigued.

So why am I scared?