Playing With The Big Boys Now

"It's a one."

"It's a seven."

"Guys." While trying to read the measurements for today's lab experiment, apparently there was a number that looked like both a one and seven, and the two boys had been arguing for the past two minutes over which one it was, not even bothering to ask me or the teacher.

"I'm telling you, it's a one."

"And I'm telling you, it's a seven."

"Guys...."

"Look, see that little line at the bottom? It's a one!"

"Frank, that's a piece of dirt, it's a seven!"

"Guys!"

They slowly turned their heads around to face me, blinking like startled goldfish.

"Why don't you just ask the teacher?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"Because, that would involve student/teacher contact and possibly conversation, duh," said Frank, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, whilst Mikey nodded behind him. I sighed, maybe a little overdramatically, and said, "Fine, I'll do it."

Less than a minute later I came back to the table to find them looking at me with expectant eyes.

"It's a one. Now can we please get back to the experiment?"

"HA! In your face!" yelled Frank, pointing at Mikey, who snatched the paper away and began measuring out the the strange liquids, grumbling all the while. It was silent other than questions and statements about the classwork, until Mikey broke the silence by asking, "So, your middle name is Niamh? That's odd..."

"Yeah, I honestly don't know what my mother was on when she named me, but apparently it means smart or bright or something like that, I can't remember."

"What does Delilah mean?" asked Frank.

"Delicate," I replied, while they both stopped what they were doing and just stared at me, looking like they were trying to hold back laughter and pleading with their eyes as if asking permission for something.

"It's ok," I said, rolling my eyes for the thousandth time this morning,"you can laugh, you know."

After I said this, Mikey began to chuckle a bit, which cause Frank to do the same, and it escalated from there until they were doubled over from laughter, clutching onto the table for support.

"Ok, it's funny, but it's not that funny," I said.

"Sorry," Frank breathed out, still laughing, "It's just that you don't exactly strike us as the 'delicate' type."

He gestured to my stud belts and camouflage skirt, mismatched tops and jewelry, and my ponytail, which had by now gotten a little loose and strands of which were falling out to frame my face. I guess I could see where he was coming from, but I decided to mess with him a bit.

"So, you don't think I can be delicate? Or is it just that I'm not pretty?" I asked, trying to keep the smirk off my face as he began to stutter and go red again.

"It's not that, it's just...uhhh...that....what I mean is...."

I laughed, "It's ok, Frank, I know what you meant, I'm just messing with you."

Frank let out a sigh of relief while Mikey began laughing again, only this time it was at Frank and not me. Just then the bell rang as we scrambled to pack everthing up. As we were walking out of class, I looked at my schedule Art. Yes! Something I was good at! And wasn't bored of! Frank dropped me off by a purple door with green paint splattered on it; this had to be the art room.

"Well, this is your next class, so I'll see you next period then, yeah?"

"Yeah, see ya." I replied, pushing open the door to my next class, hoping it would be as fun as the last.