Exchanging Glances

"Oh God, why does he have to be in this class?" She thought to herself.

It was like everywhere she went, life was trying to smite her for even thinking that he would look her way. It was the worst History period in the history of the world.

"I bet the Little Rock Nine didn't even have to put up with this!" a voice screamed in the back of her mind.

"Of course not!" she yelled angrily inside her head, "They got it worse, so suck it up and keep working!"

She forced her eyes back to her page, re-reading the passage that she had already read...twice.
It was simply too hard to be in History with him. She always finished her work beofre everybody else, and her perfect recall for dates and names provided her with no excuse to keep reading the excercise books. This left her, of course, with nothing else to do but think about him.

Everything about him made her tingle inside. It was all because of that stupid afternoon she decided on a whim to lend him a dollar for bus money. The two of them had spent the most gloriously excruciating afternoon of her life. Glorious because of the way he treated her, and excrutiating because she knew it would never happen again.

She slid her eyes slowly to where she knew he sat, careless and happy, just across the aisle.
He sat back in his chair, laughing at something his friend had said. He ran his fingers lightly through his hair, in a way that made her heart flutter. He lifted his brown eyes to meet hers, he must have sensed someone looking at her.
He threw her an awkward smile...her heart started beating overtime, her palms sweating. His gaze was like a mind numbing electric shock to her, and she was paralyzed.

She broke the contact, her breathing erratic and cast her eyes back to the page. Elizabeth Eckford was the first name she read.
Elizabeth Eckford, the one woman (only slightly older than herself) who had the courageousness to walk to the bus stop and to school amidst jeers and taunts from other students. She was negro, the other students white.
Elizabeth was a strong name. All for revolutionary women.

"If I were called Elizabeth, he wouldn't affect me like this. I would be like the Virgin Queen Elizabeth of England, or the Poker Faced Civil Soldier Elizabeth Eckford. But no, my name is Ashleigh. And he does affect me...greatly."

She sat, thoroughly disheartened for the rest of the period. She cast sly glances at him whenever she could, but he simply would not look her way.

It was like he was a drug to her, and she became more and more withdrawn into herself when he wouldn't give up her fix. She couldn't even bring herself to yell a snide remark at the boy in class who said, "The Niggers shouldn't have been allowed into school anyway." She just didn't have the strength.

As the bell rang, she gathered her books and trailed out of the class, beside her friends. He ran ahead without a second look her way.

She could feel her heart break, yet she walked on.

"She looked at me once. Damn it. I guess I won't ask her if she wants to come with me on the bus today." He thought to himself.

Without much more of a thought to her, he ran off.

The comfort of more transparent girls was more satisfying anyway.