It's What Makes Me, Me

My timetable was an awkward sheet of jumbled letters. I tried to make sense of each box, where was I supposed to go? Through the mass of initials I recognized a subject I knew would be safe Art. To my pleasure this was my first lesson at this Upper East Side school, a source of safety in the unknown.
Hurrying down the full hallway, avoiding contact with everyone, I arrived at a large wooden door decorated creatively showing this was my art room. The door was deceptively heavy as I shoved it open noticing only two others in the room. The first was the teacher in skin tight trousers and a crisp white shirt, buttons open to reveal his well tanned muscular torso. Blonde curls framed his face whilst blue eyes twinkled; he was adorable, probably fancied by every bimbo in this school. Straightened black hair covering almost all of his face, the second being in that room was a pupil, prematurely sat at the back of the large white washed room. Large windows framed by an elegant stained wood allowed large amounts of light in, filling every inch of the studio, illuminating his pale skin and delicate almost lady-like features. Classified as an 'emo' I knew talking to him was out of the question, I didn't need to make friends, enemies or be noticed.
'Don't be shy, take a seat' the melodic masculine voice floated gently through the air, nodding slightly I made my way to the back. 'How are you at art?' my teacher continued trying to start a conversation 'ok I guess' I mumbled my reply reluctant to reveal any information about myself. Pushing back his chair he rose to his feet and strode over to me, now what. I did my best to hide my old sketchbook, full of my personal drawings with its tattered edges and covers. Suddenly it was separated from my grasp; it hadn't been firm enough, flicking through each page individually staring in awe. 'Give it back, I know its bad' the desperation in my voice was noticeable, ' in fact it's the opposite, and it’s good, really good. You'll fit in well here' he stated, how I wanted to believe him but I couldn't, no one ever told the truth unless it was painful. By now the rest of the class had trickled in taking their normal seats, I had been lucky and picked the empty seat. Correct with my assumption, the 'bimbos' flocked to the front of the class, pretending they were unable to hold a pencil or paint brush correctly, how convincing.
'Project time, pair up' boomed the young teachers voice. Shock filled my mind, now what could I do? The pairs began forming, surprise, and surprise. Cheerleaders with jocks and geeks with geeks leaving me with the only person left, the 'emo' sat at the back. ‘Now change and be with some one different and new, or I’ll make the pairs myself' stated the art teacher defiantly, no one moved, slowly he paired each person with their opposites, leaving me yet again with the lonely boy at the back.
As each pair sulked exiting the room, I was called over to the big messy desk at the front 'you'll be good influence on each other' he announced, I shrugged, we still hadn't spoken one word to each other. It was me; I had to make the first move. After shuffling towards him I dropped a crumpled piece of paper into his lap. 'My address, pick me up at seven. Best if we get it over and done with' he grunted in approval, that was enough I was gone disappearing out the room. I wondered if he'd even come. What was this boy doing to me? Feelings I swore I’d never feel again were coming flooding back, suffocating me.