Allergies, Annoying, and Stubborn. Yes, I'm In Love With That.

Ring…

The last beautiful notes of a song I was playing on the piano rang out. I wasn’t a great piano player, but I knew enough so with practice I could eventually get something. Heck, I wouldn’t even consider myself a good piano player, but anyone would admit that I knew more than most students at this school.

Anderson High School was a small school. There were four hundred kids at the maximum. Word around was that Anderson was one of the best schools. We didn’t really have gangs or anything like that. Academics were really important – we were a smart bunch of kids – but with no surprise, sports and athletics dominated.

I wasn’t thinking anything really as I stared at the white plastic keys in front of me. It wasn’t an actual piano, just a keyboard at a desk. There was a computer monitor sitting behind the piano and the computer keys in front. The desk was really weird, but nice. Starting from front to back it went: computer keyboard with mouse, piano keyboard, and then the computer monitor. It was like a little station. And there were four of them all on one long connected desk.

Suddenly, quiet orchestra music began to fill the air. Flight of the Bumblebee by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. The music was coming from the band director’s office, Mr. Carter. He was a great guy, only twenty-five, but really smart and friendly. A person could mention almost anything and he could explain the history or something interesting about it. He was a great friend too. If someone needed advice, one could just plop down in a chair in his office and start talking.

“Hey, Austin,” I said. He was a freshman playing some game on the internet. “Where is everyone?”

He put his game on pause and looked around. “Uh, most of them loaded up with Jack and went to the Chinese place. They should be back any minute though. I think we’re leaving in like an hour.”

I smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

The football game was only in Harris which wasn’t that far, thirty minutes at least. I used to hate football, but after six years of being in band, it sort of wasn’t that bad anymore. I wasn’t looking forward to tonight as much as usual though. Away games are the best, but tonight the temperature was supposed to be colder than usual. I hated the cold.

“Hey,” someone said as they squeezed between me and the desk and sat in my lap.

“Jack…!” I complained, but also partly laughing.

He acted like I wasn’t there and began typing in his username and password for the computer.

“Jack, I was playing the piano.”

He quickly got up off of me but grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it as close to me as possible. “You should see this.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance as he began typing in a site. “I don’t want to see your cars.”

“Yes, you do. These cars are a work of art.”

Jack Carraway. What a guy. He wasn’t that tall, 5’8” maybe, but that was still tall considering my 5’2”. He was skinny, but had the tiniest bit of muscle he’d been working on. His eyes were blue, nothing special really, just a regular blue. They weren’t ocean blue or blue like diamonds, just bland. His hair was kind of frizzy and thick, and it was a dirty blond color. Settled in the middle of his face was a long nose with rectangle, thin-framed glasses sitting on it.

And that was just his appearance. Personality wise he was probably the most annoying, stubborn pain I’d ever met. There was always something completely off subject that he would bring up in the middle of class, and no one would care about the subject one bit. If he wanted something, he went after it until he got as close as he could. The teacher would say “no”, and then ten minutes later he’d bring up the same subject.

His voice wasn’t high, but it wasn’t really deep either. It had a very distinct country southern accent to it, as well as a nasally tinge. Jack had allergies twenty-four seven. He even kept a little packet of tissues in his pocket. Oh, and he was allergic to a lot of things. Basically, he was a nerd. He even looked like a nerd. But somehow, he wasn’t a nerd nerd. He was popular in a way. Everyone knew him and he knew everyone. It was weird.

“See this,” he said, pointing to a car on the screen. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

I stared at the silver car – whatever it was – and shrugged. Jack did this all the time. He’d come and plop himself in my lap and then get on the computer in front of me, wanting to show me all these cars. I didn’t hate Jack, but I didn’t like him either.

As he scrolled down the screen I stopped him.

“Wait!” I called. I pointed to a small picture. “I love that car. It’s pretty.”

Jack clicked on it and brought up a bigger picture of it. He looked at me for a second and then back at the screen with a smile. “It’s the same car, you know? Just a different color.”

I smiled at him. “Well, I like this car.”

He laughed. “It’s yellow.”

“So?”

“Fine, fine. You’re so weird.”

I smiled and turned my attention back to the piano. I set my hands in the correct position and began to play a few quick chords of a song. Suddenly… BANG! BURT!

I glared at him and he withdrew his hands from the piano. When I started to play again, Jack grabbed my wrists and held them down and away from the piano. He had big hands – long fingers – so he easily wrapped one of his hands around both my wrists. With his free hand, he turned off the piano.

I was annoyed that he didn’t let go of my wrists.

“Jack!” I complained.

“Quit playing,” he instructed. His blue eyes were challenging. “You need to see these cars.”

Gosh! Why couldn’t I be one of those people who had the ability to hate other people? Why did I have to always be nice?

“Fine,” I said, giving in.

Jack grinned. “Good. Now type in…”

I slowly pecked at the letters on the keyboard with the one free hand he allowed me to use. “Whoops, that was supposed to be a P.” I started hitting backspace.

“Gosh, Lily, you’re so slow. Hurry up.”

I laughed. “You’re the one only letting me use one hand, so stop complaining.”