Not Exactly What it Seems

I saw her, but she was too preoccupied to notice me. I wanted to say something, say anything, but I kept silent. There was something about her that drew me in, made me want to get to know her despite everything I'd been through. Maybe she could make me see things differently.

I noticed a guy a few lockers down from mine having trouble getting his open. The lockers at my school sucked, even though the school itself had tons of money to spend on fixing them. They had more important things to worry about apparently. So with a small sigh, I went over to him and banged my fist against the locker so that it popped right open. He smiled in gratitude, but I merely shrugged in response. I was about to walk away when his voice stopped me.

“Am I just stupid or is that some insiders trick I’m going to have to learn?” he wondered. This, for some reason made me kind of annoyed. Was it really that hard to realize that the lockers stuck to their frames? Was he trying to make small talk or trying to get something from me?

“Well apparently you don’t have enough common sense to realize the lockers here leave a lot to be desired,” I told him flatly. At school, I rarely smiled because I had to do so much of it around all the cameras. I was very sarcastic and blunt, simple as that.

“Okay, well then I guess I should have expected the honestly. You seem like the type who wouldn’t hold back her thoughts.” This really made me mad. As if he actually knew me at all, I was so sure.

“So now you’re going to stereotype me before you even know my name. That’s really great of you. I think that you should really learn some things about this school or you’ll never get through the first day.” My words were dry and held no emotion as I stared at him with disinterest.

“So are you going to inform me of these things? Or am I going to have to ask someone less scary?”

“Why don’t you go with the latter?” Then I walked back to my locker, fully aware of his big brown eyes staring after me yet not caring what he found. Why would it matter to me what someone thought? People always judged me, it was nothing new.

I must admit that I was disappointed with this boy. He seemed promising before he opened his mouth. His hair was long, dark brown, and in his face; his clothes consisted of tight fitting jeans, Avenged Sevenfold shirt, black studded belt, and well worn converse. But then he decided to stereotype me in a way I was sure he would hate if I had been stereotyping him. How hypocritical the world was, myself included.

Really though, I felt as though he needed a friend at the school. But that friend couldn’t be me, not really. I could try to be his friend, but everything would get too complicated and he didn’t need that. I’d be lying to him and he’d wonder where I was half the time, only to assume that I didn’t really want to be his friend and be hurt. So before he could start to care about me, I would stop the process from beginning to save him from something he probably could not handle.

But as I was getting things organized in my locker, I felt a presence behind me and knew that it was him. Why? Why did he care if I was bitter toward him? Didn’t that give him the indication that I was not looking for a friend? And if it was that he was looking for a friend, why couldn’t he see that I was not the right choice?

“Do you find it necessary to hide from everyone with bitterness or do you just not want to talk to me?” he asked with an annoyed expression clouding his features.

“You know, maybe I’m just tired of being stereotyped all the time. Maybe it has nothing to do with you. Though you could be part of it because you obviously don’t get that I just want to be left alone. So maybe the whole I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you thing is accurate. Who would have thought?”

“Did I do something to you? Because I’d really like to know where the hostility is coming from before I go away. Will you tell me that before I go?” His eyes were earnest and it appeared that he was used to rejection which caused a pang of guilt to surface.

“Look, you really don’t want to be my friend, okay? That’s all you need to know. I’m sorry, but I’m just not the right person for that, trust me.” I’m sure my face took on a pleading look, my eyes with more emotion than I had shown thus far.

“If you can tell me why, then I’ll go away. Why would it be so bad? Is it something I did? Was it because you think I’m stereotypical? Just tell me what’s up and maybe I’ll leave you alone.” He had a determined set to his jaw and I knew that he would not be leaving me alone. I found that both annoying and reassuring at the same time.

I sighed dejectedly, wanting to understand how I felt about this boy that didn’t even know my name nor did I know his. “I’m serious; you just don’t want to be associated with me. I can’t give you a reason or a good explanation. You just don’t want to deal with me. That’s all I can say to you.”

“Well then, get used to me because I’m not scared of anything you could throw at me. My name’s Hayden Dunmarr, I just moved here from Virginia. What about you?”

“Please don’t be concerned with who I am or what my story is. You’re better off not knowing. Please.” I was basically begging him to leave me alone, to stop trying to know me. I wasn’t worth it, but he wasn’t understanding the seriousness of my words.

Before he could try to convince me of being his friend, the bell rang signaling the start of first period. Without another word, I walked off to English with one of my favorite teachers ever. Mr. Haner was a young guy who still had some punk attitude in him, not to mention the tattoos that were slightly visible. He understood me more than anyone else could ever hope to and was good at interpreting my moods, not to mention make me feel better. Most of the other students thought that I was teacher’s pet, but I didn’t care what they called me, it didn’t matter.

He smiled at me as I walked through the door, making me feel welcome before I even sat down. But then Hayden sat down next to me and the smile on my face was instantly wiped away. Did he not realize that I would hurt him? Did he not understand that my life was not something he wanted to be a part of? Could he really be that dense? Mr. Haner noticed my mood change and raised an eyebrow in question. I only shook my head, but I knew he’d be asking me later- that was just the kind of guy he was, to me anyway.

“Dude, his name is the same as Synyster Gates from Avenged Sevenfold!” Hayden exclaimed excitedly. “And he kind of looks like him, too!”

He would notice that. “Yeah I know, but he’s not. Trust me, I asked him that the first time I met him. He’s cool though, a good teacher.” I turned my attention to the kids in class, assessing whether or not it would be a good year. From the looks of it, the class wasn’t too bad and it would be an okay year at the least.

Then the teacher was talking, introducing himself to those who didn’t know him as Brian Haner, English teacher extraordinaire. Though he was joking, I thought he was truly that good. In that class period, he talked about his class philosophy and the books we would be reading. He made it known to us that no question was a stupid question and that we could talk to him about anything at all. I knew that from experience.

I knew that I liked him too much for a teacher, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. He was a friend, sort of, and I couldn’t help it that we were pretty close. Being that he was only about twenty-five years old, it would cause a problem if someone suspected something, but we were nothing more than friends. Besides, all of the students liked him and so would likely not do something to jeopardize his teaching position.

After class, I went over my schedule with Mr. Haner and luckily had study hall during his prep period so I would be in his room during that time. Yeah, it may have seemed weird, but kids went into all different rooms for study hall so it didn’t matter. He told me that I could use a friend and so should be nice to Hayden.

It turned out that Hayden was in all of my classes and relied on me to show him where everything was and things like that. Though I was trying to be nice, I just didn’t want him to get attached or to get attached to him. Something was bound to go wrong. With the way my nights and weekends went, I’d never be able to spend time with him, and then he would become suspicious.

When the end of the day finally came, he was hanging out at my locker trying to get me to talk to him. Then some of the cheerleaders came up to me trying to convince me yet again that cheering was my calling. Once they finally left, Hayden raised his eyebrows at me but I would say nothing. He commented on it for a while and then became bored with my lack of a response so merely huffed away.