I Love You, Benjamin Stone

I Love You Benjamin Stone

There has always been a time in my life where I questioned my ability of stealing hearts. For one thing, I never really have been the type to try to get a boy’s attention, let alone even converse with one. Instead, random bumps in the hallways and asking my male teachers about last night’s assigned homework was pretty much all the talk I had experienced; aside from telling my brother to get out of my room.

I always have been the shy girl sitting in the corner, nose shoved into a book, pushing up my glasses up. I’ve never been glamorous with platinum blonde hair, a big chest, and perfectly manicured nails. I didn’t even know that taking care of your nail beds was something you had to worry about until I had gotten into high school.

High school was the wake-up call for me, Annaleigh Barker. I’d never noticed the social cliques, the benefits of being socially adept, and the importance of actually having a relationship. Call me sheltered but the only relationship I’ve ever really acquired was that of a comfy lazy boy chair sitting in the library next to the encyclopedias.

That was until I had met Benjamin Stone. Well, we hadn't necessarily "met" but a girl can dream.

In every high school, there’s the football team’s star quarter back; you know what I mean. The guy who’s dating the head cheerleader, the heartthrob of the school, and the guy that everyone loves or simply loves to hate. Either way, that guy is always the highlight of every girl’s attention and the best friend of every jock in the entire school and possibly, across the province.

Benjamin Stone was not this guy. Rather, Benjamin is the school’s finest artist, accompanied by a fan club of groupie girls. He has his own band, won numerous art shows, and is possibly Adonis himself. The guy is a stunner and somehow manages to get my hormones functioning like a normal 17-year old girl.

He is beyond perfect, if anyone could ever call another human being perfect. His eyes are a light grey, almost the color of white snow. When you first look into them, you get kind of scared only because you have to wonder if he’s dead or something. But when you look even closer, you notice the little flecks of ice blue, enough to melt your heart and freeze it with those feelings forever. His hair is jet black, the natural reflection of blue proving that it isn’t just another dye. The color of night skies and so thick that girls are jealous. Perfect cheekbones, strong jaw, and a straight nose; Benjamin Stone is more beautiful than Michael Angelo’s statue of David.

Of course, then there’s me. The dull copper brown hair and plain green/blue eyes all slapped onto a too tall but slender body. My skin was possibly the only good thing about me, being clear and radiant which my hair refuses to be. There is no way in hell or heaven that a guy like Benjamin Stone would ever look twice at me and yet here I am, hopelessly in love with my Chemistry textbook and a boy I can never have.

Life has never been fair.

Yes, I actually am in love with him or at least, I'm pretty sure I am. After 17 years, I finally gain insight into what it’s like to actually have a real crush. Sure, I had little things for boys throughout elementary school (such as Parker Vox in grade 2, please punch me for being so stupid) but it was never anything compared to the hopelessly lost feeling I get when I look at Benjamin. There’s the feeling of butterflies flying through my stomach, the way my heart feels like it might burst, and the rise of blood to my face when he even glances in my direction. It’s pathetic because I turn red in the face whenever he simply stands a meter away from where I am.

So although my heart is beating only for this amazing boy who is unaware of my existence, I’ll never have the nerve to speak to him. I can only stare off into the distance with a goofy grin on my face while I pretend I’m actually trying to work on my English homework.

This is exactly what I’m doing right now.

Ben was standing across the room, his dark hair brushing the bandana placed firmly across that perfect hairline to accent his remarkable eyes. He's laughing at something his friend said, the sound echoing to the very depths of my soul. Call me a cheese ball, but there’s no other way I can explain it.

I sigh heavily and place my chin on my hand, letting my braids fall over my shoulders while my glasses slide down my nose again.

“Daydreaming again Anna?” I glance up and blush, nodding. In front of me is a short, terribly skinny girl with huge eyes and a nose that matched. Her dirty blonde hair is in a frizzy halo around her thin face accompanied by a brace-enveloped smile. She folds her arms over her oversized cardigan and sits down in the empty seat beside me.

“You know that you ought to just give up already.” She states simply and glances back over at Benjamin with her own look of appreciation. “Boys like that forget about girls like us.”

Leave it to my best friend to point out the obvious. Courtney Jane Reitman and I have been friends since we were four and have been all through school. We met at a playground sandbox after Parker had told me that he hated me. Here I was, crushed and heartbroken until this sharp-tongued little blond strolled up to him and kicked him hard in the shin. Ever since then, she has been my best friend.

We had been through it all together; Barbies and bakery sets, Girl Guides and mathletes. We were like twins from other parents; the only difference was that Courtney wasn’t as shy as I was. I was practically a mute compared to her boisterous personality.

“I know.” I mutter while scribbling down an answer on my Hamlet worksheet. I shoot a longing glance back at Benjamin. “I just wish that looks weren’t everything.”

Courtney giggles and moves her chair closer to me, her eyes still watching Benjamin.

“No kidding. But for Benjamin Stone, looks might be all that he has going for him besides his art and music.” She whispers and I shake my head in disagreement.

“I doubt it. He’s the delineation of perfect.”

Courtney rolls her eyes and toys with the huge, beaded necklace around her neck. Courtney is what I liked to refer to as the ‘boho librarian’ simply because she wants the Bohemian look that actresses seemed to rock but can't quite get it with her simple sweaters and cardigans paired with granny slacks. I can give her credit for trying but really, the look just makes her seem like a grandmother trying to recapture her youth, not that I’d ever have the guts to tell her that.

“I wouldn’t say he’s perfect but he’s definitely a class ‘A’ hunk.” She concludes with her index finger pressed to her chin. I don't reply but continue on with my homework while sneaking glances at Benjamin. He's gesturing something with his hands and speaking animatedly with a beaming smile on his face. What I wouldn’t do to get a smile like that directed at me.

“Okay class! I’d like everyone to take a seat and give me their attention!” Everyone begins to scatter back to their seats. I'm not overly enthused about this considering I have the cheer leading captain on my right and our high school wrestling captain on my left. I squirm uncomfortably in my chair then placed my pencil down next to my half-filled question sheet, fixing my eyes on my teacher, attempting to focus on what she's saying.

Ms. Weatherton is our English 30-1 or AP English teacher. She is in her late forties with shocking blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and angled features to compliment. So far, she was the one teacher I would actually speak to without feeling awkward or shy, instead I could argue about Shakespearian plays and poetry with her, actually having my opinion heard instead of ignored. Of course, I am her pet meaning she makes me answer a lot more questions than I would like, usually to try and help me exist amongst the crowd of students. It doesn't really help considering most people, including Benjamin, don't even know my name.

“Today I’m going to have all of you begin your ‘Hamlet re-enactments’. This means that I’m going to divide you into different groups and you will re-enact a scene of the play with your group members. You are allowed to bring in props, as long as they’re school appropriate and will not be violent. I don’t want to see any of you end up like Joey Rhineheart last year.”

Joey Rhineheart was last year’s senior class clown. He had brought in a screwdriver for whatever reason and managed to slip and have the tool pierce through his calf muscle. It’s a mystery to me how he could have it go right through his calf muscle AND have a screwdriver in a Hamlet play. I don’t even recall anything in the play that would even call for the use of a screwdriver.

The class groaned and some begin theorizing about the cause of the Joey incident until Ms. Weatherton shushes everyone back into silence. A pit of dread forms in my stomach at that moment because I don't really talk to anyone but Courtney in this class and the Gothic kid who sits in the back corner. Group work is definitely not a strength of mine and if I'm forced into a group with any slackers, I might just have to get the Goth kid to sacrifice me.

I tug absently on a braid and wait impatiently for Ms. Weatherton to begin reading out groups. She has a can of Popsicle sticks with every student’s name that she randomly picks to form groups. The last time she had done this, I had been placed with Heather Wilkins and Josh Michael, both dumb as chickens and who prefer to talk about erm, their "party activities" last weekend. Needless to say, I was stuck sitting between them while blushing furiously and trying to name all the different formulas I had learnt in math this year.

“First group! Heather, Colin, Michael, and Victoria.”

Heather rolls her eyes and continued to file her nails. Colin, the Goth kid, scowls and continues to draw his satanic symbols along his binder while Michael watches him in horror. I let out a small sigh of relief and wait for the next group.

“Group two: Courtney, Rebecca, Simon, and Josh.”

Benjamin glances around the room and focuses on the members of the group before leaning back in his chair. This is good because he was still not in a group yet.

“Group three: Jonathan, Rhianna, Shiloh, and Vahn.” Vahn barely speaks English and has just transferred from Japan as an exchange student. He smiles politely but the worry on his face is apparent, he could barely say ‘Peanut Butter’ let alone any of the brilliant gibberish Shakespeare created.

“Group four: Leah, Chris, James, and Geena.” Hope is beginning to flood my veins.

Ms. Weatherton continues to read out groups until finally there was room for about two more.

“Group 7: Benjamin, Parker, and Kelly, while Group 8 will be Annaleigh and Curtis.” My face falls and defeat floods in. I was so close to being in a group with Benjamin and here I am, stuck back where I was before. “You can now form your groups and begin to choose which scene you would like to do. No more than two groups to one scene and please are sure to let me know which scene you would like to do.”

People begin to get out of their seats and move desks to form their groups. Curtis makes his way slowly and reluctantly toward me, his ‘Hamlet’ book in hand. I fumble around my desk for my own copy just as Curtis sat down where Courtney was before. He whistles awkwardly and begins to flip through his book.

“So... which scene do you think we should perform?” He asks slowly, not looking at me. I begin to scrounge around pages of my notes, trying to seem more relaxed than I feel.

“Well, uhm, there aren’t too terribly many scenes consisting of only two people.” I answer softly, feeling my face turning red. My God, I blush even when I'm not embarrassed. Curtis nods in agreement and stops on a page.

“There’s scene one of Act two. It has Polonius and Ophelia talking about how Hamlet’s turning into a total nut job.”

“That ... that might work. What page is it on?” Curtis gives me the page number and I begin to read through. It's an okay scene, Curtis would play Polonius and I would act as Ophelia. From what I know, my acting skillsare non-existent, courtesy of my shyness. I'm unsure if I’d be able to act terrified and worried for the scene like I would need to. For one thing, I'm bound to turn into a tomato and secondly, I would be so freaked that I was acting that I might actually not act but faint.

“Do you think we could pull it off err, what’s your name again?” Curtis actually blushes when he asks this and I couldn’t help but feel angry that he doesn’t even know who I am. Curtis and I have been going to school with each other for over 2 years now and he still doesn’t know my name, despite the fact that I’m in half of his classes this year.

“Annaleigh.” I mumble and push my glasses up my nose. Curtis runs a hand through his hair and there's an awkward pause between the two of us. I begin scanning my eyes over the words, feeling sorrier and sorrier for myself and Vahn by the second. There is no way I’m able to act this and no way that Vahn would be able to pronounce half of the words.

Just then, Kelly raises her hand.

“Ms. Weatherton, when will we be performing these?” She asks in her nasally, bored voice. I swear, almost ninety percent of girls involved with a vain sport such as cheer leading have an annoying voice. It’s almost like it’s programmed into your system the moment you pick up those pom-poms.

“Friday.”

Kelly frowns.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for Mexico. Does that mean we won’t be able to perform?” Another trait of cheerleaders, lack of brain cells. I really don’t believe that you can lose brain cells by jumping around and having your ponytail slap your skull a few times but I could be mistaken. Scientific proof seems to appear every football game.

“Yes which means we have two groups of two now. Instead of that, we’ll simply join Benjamin and Parker to Annaleigh and Curtis’s group. Are you guys okay with that?”

“Sure.” Ben and Parker answer, rising out of their seats. Oh my God, I think I’m having a heart attack right now. This very moment, Benjamin Stone is going to be in MY English group, performing Hamlet with me. I think I might just faint.

“Annaleigh?”

I was snapped back into reality, having the whole class gawk at me like I just sprouted horns or something. I feel my face go red.

“Y-yes?” I stammer, further burying myself into a grave of embarrassment.

“Are you alright with this?” Ms. Weatherton questions while folding her arms over her chest. Her eyebrows rise with emphasis and I nod.

“I’m perfectly fine, I’m sure.” I reply quietly and attempt to smile.

I then turn my back to my group and let out a heavy breath. Right now, Ben is sitting across from me, his hands folded over his torso while glancing up at the clock. He then leans forward in his chair and rests his arms on the desk, looking at everyone in the group. When his eyes graze over my own, I bring my eyes down to the cover of my book while trying not to hyperventilate.

“So group,” He begins with a light tone. “What are we planning to do? I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kind of a fan of the scene where they have the play to test Claudius’s guilt. There are a lot of fun lines between Hamlet and Ophelia; if everyone’s okay with this, I’d like to be Hamlet.”

“Assuming that err, I’m sorry I forgot your name again.” Curtis says to me, blushing deeply again at his own stupidity.

“Annaleigh, but you can just call me Anna.” I answer with a tad of annoyance. Curtis nods, embarrassed.

“Assuming that Anna,” He looks at me then back to the group. “Would play Ophelia.”

“Not unless Parker decides he wants to be my love interest.” Benjamin teases and pokes Parker in the ribs. Parker scowls and punches Ben in the arm, not showing any signs of appreciation toward his friend.

“Not likely. I’d like to be Claudius and if Annaleigh is playing Ophelia then that leaves the role of the Queen to Curtis.”

Curtis grins wickedly.

“Does that mean I get to have boobs?”

The boys begin laughing hysterically while I sit awkwardly and let out a little chuckle of terror.

A better question would be: How do I pull off the role of Ophelia without seeming like a total dork in front of the entire class AND Benjamin?