Great Expectations

“My mind can’t change my heart, there’s nothing I can do.”- MxPx

A few weeks had passed since Dean Montague entered my life - it was now the first week of October, halfway through your average Thursday, and I was not happy. I hated my English class with a burning passion. I did not like to read, I did not like the smell of books, and the people who worked in bookstores scared me beyond belief. Each day, I dreaded walking into that classroom where we sit and discuss books written centuries ago. I loathed listening to people draw meaning from the words and uncover symbols hidden in the pages. Most of all, I disliked sitting directly across the ‘discussion circle’ from Dean Montague, giving him an excuse to stare at me all class and forcing me to stare at the carpet for nearly an hour.

I sat down in my desk and dug around in my bag, searching for the thin paperback novel we were currently reading, The Great Gatsby. It wasn’t that bad; the best part about it was that it was short. I had actually managed to read the entire book. Poppy was proud of me.

My teacher, Miss Baker, walked into the middle of the circle with a wide smile on her face. She wore a long, swishing skirt that touched the ground with a tight, fitted blouse. She was exactly the way I pictured Poppy in twenty-five years. “Well, now that you’ve read The Great Gatsby, you’re probably expecting a test on it.” She turned, watching our expressions. Most of us looked highly unconcerned, a few were completely apathetic, and some were interested.

All the classes at Marseille were pretty small – this English class only had twelve people in it. The small class size was supposed to promote discussions, sharing of intelligence, and getting to know each other. What it actually caused was typically extreme annoyance with the few other people in your classes you truly couldn’t stand. I guess it could have been worse, but being a flawed and self-centered person, this didn’t seem to be an option.

“Instead of having a test,” Miss Baker continued, “you’re going to be put into pairs to write an in-depth analysis of each character and present this analysis to the class.” My stomach clenched with dread as I felt Dean’s eyes landed on me. I wasn’t what would be considered a religious person, but I began to pray I wouldn’t have to work with him. “I’ll put you in pairs now,” she said, slowly revolving. “How about… Dean Montague and… Juliet Hanson.” Evidently, my prayers were not answered. Maybe they were completely ignored; maybe this was some sort of karmic punishment. Maybe I was just doomed.

A grin broke across Dean’s face as his eyes met mine across the circle. “You’ll be writing about Jay Gatsby,” she said happily. I hate people who get so enthused and entranced by characters in books. What’s the point in caring so much about a figment of someone’s imagination?

Miss Baker continued to pair students together, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was busy examining the unattractive blue carpet that never seems to stain and trying to burn a hole in it with my eyes. This plan was not working at all, but at least it was giving me something to do.

“Okay, I’m going to let you get together with your partners so you can get started on your projects,” she said, a brilliant smile on her face. “This assignment is due one week from tomorrow, on Friday, October 16. Get to work!”

I remained in my seat, my arms crossed over my chest. I was still trying to burn a hole in the carpet. I heard a desk sliding across the carpet, could practically hear the static electricity sizzle through the air as it moved. I completely ignored Dean when he sat down beside me.

“Your reaction is really mature,” he said. “Ignoring me. When’s the last time you did that, third grade?”

“I do not appreciate your antagonism,” I snapped.

“Jeez,” he said. “Only trying to be nice here. Did you like Great Gatsby? It’s not my all-time favorite, but it’s pretty good. At least we got Gatsby; he’s definitely the best character in the book. I would have been so mad if we got Myrtle; no one likes that – ”

“Don’t talk to me,” I said, my irritation increasing.

“Okay,” Dean said, pulling his desk around so he was sitting backwards on the chair in front of me. “I don’t know what I did to offend you, but we’re going to have to talk to each other to do this project. I’m not doing the entire thing for you and I don’t think you want to do this entire thing without me.”

“Fine,” I said coldly.

“Besides, I’m still sticking to my theory,” he proceeded, a grin on his face. “You want me cuz you can’t have me.”

Something in me snapped. I could no longer pretend to tolerate his arrogance. I could no longer stand the sight of that perfect, sweep-you-off-your-feet grin on his face. My façade disappeared in a few seconds and my temper took over. “I don’t know why you think I would like someone like you at all,” I said angrily, keeping my voice low. “You are the most arrogant, conceited jerk I have ever met and I’ll be glad when I graduate and never have to see you again. Now leave me alone.”

His eyebrows rose and a look of surprise took over his face. “Sorry,” he said finally, leaning back. “I guess we should get started on this project and I’ll leave you alone.” He pulled out a notebook, flipped it to a clean page, and wrote ‘Jay Gatsby’ at the top of the page, underlining it and opening his own beaten copy of the book.

The truth was I did not want Dean Montague to leave me alone at all. The truth was that I loved the sight of that perfect, sweep-you-off-your-feet grin on his face. The truth was I wanted to spend a lot more time with him. But, like many people, I cannot handle the truth. I couldn’t tempt myself by being around him all the time. I had been raised to be a good, obedient child, and I was still afraid of disobeying my parents. I still had not learned to listen to my heart instead of my parents’ wishes.

I wish I had learned, because maybe then I could keep myself from getting hurt.