How to Make a Human

The teacher's lounge was boring. Beyond boring, actually. I hated to fall into the category of all the first graders who thought that a teacher's lounge was some hot V.I.P club, but I did. I was vaguely disappointed by the pale walls with the yearly staff pictures hanging crookedly, the bent blinds, the soft humming of the twelve dollar radio sitting in the corner on a plastic chair, even the mini-fridge was disappointing. I'm almost never disappointed by mini-fridges.

There was only two other people in the room besides Demetri and me. One was a hefty woman, her hair dyed red, and her lips tugged into a permanent grimace, she was sipping coffee and making a disgusted face. The other person was a short, balding man, drumming his fingers on the printer, checking his watch about every fifteen seconds. I glanced at Demetri who had stretched himself out on the sofa and had began trying to sleep.

"Are you seriously sleeping again?" I asked before I could stop myself. I'm still searching for the medical term for "diarrhea of the mouth." My Oma keeps telling me it's called being a "modepuppe," which apparently means "dummy."

"No, I'm resting my eyes," Demetri said, his eyes closed peacefully, his arms behind his head.

"Oh. I suppose that's what you've been doing in all your classes then?" I questioned, trying to squeeze myself into the foot of the couch that he wasn't occupying.

"No. That was sleeping."

"I see," I responded, nodding my head. It was quiet for a minute, and I willed myself to remain silent. It was obvious that Demetri didn't want to talk, why should I try befriend someone who didn't even pretend to care? If he wasn't going to talk then I wasn't going to either.

"I've never been in a teacher's lounge before," I told him, attempting to connect or make small talk or something. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Of course I talked! When can I not talk? Demetri cracked an eye open and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Well that was something, right? Does that count as progress?

"So… will our guardians be notified that we were sent here?" I asked, twiddling my thumbs like awkward losers do. I heard a clank as the hefty woman put her coffee mug in the sink and began to make her exit. Demetri grunted and opened his eyes, sitting up and staring at me.

"Alright, listen, since you clearly won't let me sleep--" he began.

"Rest your eyes," I corrected pointedly.

"Fine. Since you wouldn't let me rest my eyes, I will give you five minutes to ask any questions you would like. That is five minutes and only five minutes. Let your questions begin."

"Does that five minutes also include your answers?" I asked, rubbing my nose and sniffing slightly. Oh, the lady I have become.

"Wasting time," Demetri sung, tapping his wrist where a watch was supposed to be.

"Okay. So… Ron. What about him?"

"Your question is too vague and will be overlooked."

"Are you serious?!" I asked, bewildered.

"Yes. See? Now that's a good question."

"Okay, fine. So Ron is spoiled rotten?"

"Clearly. Come on, think Bobbie! A minute ago you had nothing but questions!"

"So, Ron is the principal's son?"

"Yes."

"Has he ever been sent there? If so, what happened?" I asked diplomatically. I sounded like an SAT question.

"He was sent back to class five minutes later, punishment free."

"Have you ever been sent to the principal's office because of Ron?"

"Yes. He said 'boys will be boys' and that I had a weeks worth of detention for provoking him."

"So his dad is--"

"Jesus! Are all your questions pertaining to Ron?" Demetri snapped, clearly bored of the topic. I heard the printer shoot paper out and a beep to notify that the printing was done. The bald man grabbed the papers and left, glancing at Demetri and I before shrugging his shoulders uncaringly.

"It's the most current thing on my mind!" I whined defensively.

"Whatever. Next question," he sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Will guardians be notified of this incident?" I mumbled, slouching back in the couch and crossing my arms grumpily.

"Probably not. It's not like you're actually in trouble. I'm sure Mr. Gert won't call your parents."

"Not my parents. They're not who I'm worried about," I muttered. Demetri gave me a questioning look.

"I live with my grandparents," I clarified, "my parents are no longer with us."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Demetri mumbled sympathetically. I nodded my head and twiddled my thumbs. An awkward silence hung in the room and Demetri kept looking at me sadly, offering awkward smiles. I just don't understand people. They're tired and bitchy one second and the next they're--

"Oh shit! My parents aren't dead!" I blurted gracelessly at the realization that my previous statement was totally misleading. "I meant that I'm living with my grandparents because my mom and dad are in Japan. Not dead."

"Oh," Demetri said after a minute, "You know, you should have just lied to me. My pity probably would have forced me to like you."

"Ah, I see. It's rewarding to know that we could have a friendship built off of pity. That's an opportunity I should have jumped on," I snorted bitterly, secretly bummed that I had missed that chance.

"You seriously should have. It would save you the trouble of trying to make friends," he said, repositioning himself on the couch getting ready to sleep again.

"Yeah, but that's not how I roll," I lied. That totally is how I roll, I just missed the chance to roll that way. It was pathetic that I was that desperate for a friend.

"I'm sure," Demetri mumbled disbelievingly, his eyes closed.

“No offense, but are you always such a douche?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m just tired I guess.” He rolled towards the back of the couch so as not to face me.

"You're not seriously going to sleep again, are you? I have more questions!" I whined.

"I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes. And sorry, but your five minutes are up."

Damn it.