A New Arrangement

Everyone’s eyes…including mine. I mentally slap myself for staring as his eyes land on mine for a split second when he scans the room. I listen as Mr. Yokey directs him to his seat in the middle front seat of the classroom that nobody ever sits in.

Until now I guess.

I feel a slight poke to my side and I hear Cillian‘s whispered words, “I wonder where he’ll end up in a week.” I give him a look that silently says that I don’t know. Every little eye of every nosy person is still staring at Ollie, and I try hard not to become one of them.

Mr. Yokey starts to drone on and on about how Aaron Burr killed Alexander Hamilton and then proceeds to try and declare himself king of the South or something. Aaron Burr may be at least a little bit interesting, but not when his name comes from the lips of the most monotone voiced man in the history of school teachers.

Besides, I really could care less about U.S. History.

My mind wanders to my next class; the one that I have with my brother and Rilla. AP Art, one of the two classes here that are worth my time, is my favourite class. I begin to scan the room looking for the other people in my art class, and they look almost exactly like I do. I’m definitely left brained, and my brain has no room to voluntarily give up to U.S. History. Luckily, I can read, and that makes the class super easy.

My eyes continue to scan the room until I land on the new guy, and his eyes mirror mine. It was merely the passing gazes of two people scanning over a room of people, but I found it really funny that this kid was turned almost all the way around in his seat looking around the room when he was sitting directly in front of Mr. Yokey.

And, as if on cue, a sudden change of tone happens in Mr. Yokey’s voice, “Mr…” He says sharply, but his voice loses effect after he turns to scan his new attendance sheet.

“Mr. Oliver Ritt is it?” He finishes.

Oliver Ritt turns his head around so that he is facing Mr. Yokey, but his back is still facing him as well.

“Yeah?” He says expectantly.

“Do you have any idea what I am talking about young man?”

I watch as he swiftly moves his whole body so that it is all facing Mr. Yokey, “No, Sir. Actually, since it’s my first day and all, I was just looking around the room and y’know…seeing people.”

“You can see people in the hallways!” Mr. Yokey says.

“No, I really can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, I am actually trying to get to my classes on time and since I don’t know where the hell any of them are I might not have enough time to stare at the people around me.” I sense the tinge of annoyance in Ollie’s tone, and I see the red tint that has made its’ way onto the face of Mr. Yokey.

“Did…did you just curse at me young man?” He says in disbelief.

I look over to Cillian who is looking at me with his eyebrows way up, and he makes a nervous face as he laughs silently.

“Yeah, I did. You’re really starting to piss me off. I mean honestly,” Ollie pauses and points at the empty desk top in front of him, “I don’t even have a book yet. I haven’t got any paper or notes or anything, so what’s the point of me listening to you tell me about Alexander Hamilton?”

I can’t help myself; I let out a stifled laugh in the silence that follows Ollie’s explanation. Mr. Yokey’s attention is quickly turned to me, and I freeze.

“Is there something funny here Miss Myles?”

My forced nonchalant expression is starting to lose grip on my face, and a smile starts to form, “No Mr. Yokey, It’s just uh…I thought of this…joke?” I say uncertainly.

“Why are you thinking of jokes in my class?” He says, obviously annoyed, “Is anyone paying attention to me?”

I look around the room and I see a small crowd of heads bobbing up and down simultaneously; I realize that I am indeed in a room with a million brainwashed idiots. The few people that aren’t nodding their heads have similar expressions on their faces, including Cillian’s and Ollie’s.

But Mr. Yokey seems satisfied; I see a small smile come onto his face and I believe that I am safe.

“Mr. Ritt and Miss Myles. Detention…Friday.”

And he turns his back to the class and goes to his seat as my face reads horror. I turn to Cillian and he has a sympathetic look on his face. I turn my eyes to the middle seat in the front row, and I glare daggers at the back of Oliver Ritt’s head. The owner of that head has just killed any hope of me going to New York.
____________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just skip out on Detention?” Rilla is asking me while we sit at our art tables.
“You know that that will not look good. I mean, I’ve gotten detentions before but if I skip this one they’ll write a long report about the irresponsibility of my actions. I don’t want anything stopping me from getting into NYU…I want to look responsible. All of my reasons for even getting detentions are idiotic on the school’s part anyway, but I don’t want to give them anymore ammo.”

I’ve calmed down since the initial shock of learning that my trip to NYU would have to be postponed. Kaden is sitting across from me with a strained look on his face and I sigh, “Go ahead and celebrate you little dipshit.” His head pops up from his work and he looks at me, “I know you’re excited that I can’t keep you from taking the car tomorrow.” His face automatically lights up at my comment, and his teeth come out of their hiding place behind his lips.

“I mean, I’m not going to lie to you, I’m fucking excited!”

I can practically feel that Rilla is glaring daggers at him from next to me.

“It’s okay Rilla,” I say, “He’ll get trampled at a show or something.”

I heard her laugh lightly at my comment, and I give a little smile to Kaden. I’m happy for him, but this is still a shitty situation. I start adding shades to the flower that I’m drawing, and I’m aloud to go into my thoughts as my brother and Rilla follow my silent lead.

We’re given ten more minutes of silent drawing before the bell rings and we have to go to homeroom. I have no one in my homeroom, but I like it anyway. Rilla walks with me to my class; hers is right next to mine. I feel the bodies of strangers that I’ve been going to school with for 3 ½ years and it doesn’t faze me. Shoulders bump and it’s just another day in high school.

We get to our classes, hers is right next to time, and I hug her before walking into Mrs. Kestrel’s class. She’s sitting at her desk; she’s one of those women that could be really pretty if they were more outgoing and dressed a little less conservatively.

“Hey Mrs. Kestrel!” I say nicely. I like this class, it’s relaxing.

I walk to the black table that I am assigned to. I sit down and pull out the homework that is due after lunch. AP English Language isn’t bad. I love writing, and my teacher is amazing. I pull out a short story by George Orwell and I begin to read before the bell has even rung. More students file in as I continue to not to pay attention, and finally the bell rings. Mrs. Kestrel gets up to talk to the class, and I hear a small noise from her before the door bursts open and I glance up to see a guy holding a schedule and a bunch of books runs in before putting my head back down.

“Oliver Ritt.” I hear the boy say, and I look up. Sure enough, the guy responsible for my detention is in my homeroom.

Mrs. Kestrel timidly stretches out her hand to take the schedule and check that he is in the class. She hands it back to him after scanning it and looks around the room. Her eyes land on mine before she turns to Oliver and points him to my table. I sigh loudly, loud enough for everyone to hear actually. I see one of his eyebrows go up as he walks towards me; obviously he heard my less than happy sigh.

He sits down, “Is it okay that I sit here?”

I look at him for a few seconds before replying, “Do you know who I am?”

He looks at me closely, but his expression is still puzzled, “No?”

“I’m the person you got detention today.” I say calmly. I’m not mad anymore, I’m just annoyed. But I don’t want to be enemies with any guy for a detention. I put my head down and continue to read my short story.

“How did I get you detention?”

Without looking up I reply, “Well, maybe you didn’t technically do it. But your little display made me laugh, therefore I got detention.” Almost immediately I realize how stupid that sounds and I look up to see a smile forming on his face. I begin to take in his features for the first time: He has light brown hair that goes down to his neck, but it’s choppy in its’ cut. He has a side part, but it doesn’t cover his whole left eye. His eyes are a light brown with a little bit of green in them, and his lips are the size between full and thin. His bone structure is almost skeletal, but not enough that he looks scary, and his skin is a shade darker than pale. All of this I see in the time span of 5 seconds, yet he notices.

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty too.” He says, still smiling.

I can’t help but smile, “Well you’re obviously a charmer aren’t you? But I’m still mad. I was going to New York this weekend.”

“Ah, well I’m sorry that you have to go. I’m sort of…not going to.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want to? I mean you just got here. And the school is serious about this kind of shit.” I explain.

He begins to look interested, “What’ll happen if I don’t go?”

“They’ll write a big report about you and it will go in your permanent record.”

He’s silent for a moment and I take in the features of his thinking face.

“Damn…” He sighs, “Don’t they have anything better to do with their lives? I guess we’ll have to go huh?”

“Yeah…but I kind of have to do my homework so…”

“Oh, yeah. Go for it.”

I pick up my paper again, but before I can read a single word he interrupts me again, “One more thing though,” I look at him expectedly and he continues, “What’s your name?”

“Kalailee Myles.” I say simply.

He smiles, “Oliver Ritt.”

“Nice to meet you Oliver Ritt.”

“And you too.”