Daydreamer

“Don’t you ever feel confused when you are talking to someone about pants? I mean, do they mean underwear or trousers? Who knows?”

“To be perfectly honest with you, pants are not something I regularly speculate about during my class, Miss. Drace.” my science teacher Mr. Crew put in dryly. Dammit. I was talking out loud. Again.

I admit it. I have a problem with saying what I’m thinking. Don’t even bother asking me why because let me assure you, if I knew, my life would be a whole lot easier.

“That is the third time you have interrupted my lesson Miss. Drace so I’m afraid that means you are going to have to join me for detention after school.”

“Aw c’mon Mr. Crew!”

“Yes, yes, I am sure you’re heartbroken. Moving on...”

Science has never been my strong point; mainly because you do actually have to have an attention span higher than that of a gnat. My mum tried to explain this once to Mr. Crew but he didn’t think it a good enough reason for me to be failing science.

I don’t really mean to not listen. It’s just that talking about atoms doesn’t seem nearly as interesting to me as, for example, thinking about pants. Before you get the wrong idea, I am not obsessed with pants. I actually can’t remember why I was even thinking about pants.

“Isn’t it odd how you can sometimes be thinking about something totally normal like homework and then your suddenly thinking about pants?” Dammit.

Mr. Crew let out a huge sigh as if he were asking God why he was punishing him. I bit my lip as my friend Trina starting to vibrate in her seat trying to contain her laughter. Thankfully the bell rang before Trina lost her cool and ended up in detention with me.

I jumped up and grabbed my bag. Trina followed me out silently but as soon as we were out in the corridor she broke out in hysterics.

“You are the absolute limit!” she told me through tears of laughter.

“What did Al do now?” The slow, southern drawl of my other best mate Robin curled around me as she put her arm around my shoulder while Trina filled her in.

“Right, okay! I get it! My life is laughing stock, now can we please just go to lunch before my stomach turns into a black hole.”

“Yes! A quest! We shall find you food, fair maiden, never fear!” Trina exclaimed grabbing me and Robin by the arms and dragging us in the direction of the lunch hall, completely missing our exaggerated eye rolls.

Once we had battled our way to the front of the queue (the pupils at St Andrews High School are not known for their etiquette), we bought our food and sat down. Before I’d even picked up my fork, Robin and Trina had already begun an in depth discussion about whether a boy in Robin’s third period class was cute or not. (“Of course he’s fit Robin! He has the cheekbones of a God!” “Yeah and the monobrow of a gorilla,” “A little nurture and he’ll blossom forth with a fully tweezered face! You need to pounce, Robin, you need to pounce!”)

As I had no idea who monobrow-cheekbone man was I drifted off. As these things so often occur, I started off thinking about how the wobbly table leg became wobbly and suddenly I was wondering whether apple crumble counts as one of your five a day (I’m thinking it does in case you’re wondering).

It was as I was thinking this that my arm was shaken quite violently. My immediate thought was that I was about to be attacked by the mafia and I performed a strange spasm in self defence which only succeeded in knocking over my bottle of water.

“Just why?” I asked Robin as I tried to clean up the water with my napkin.

“Look who we’ve just spotted!” interjected Robin, her eyes peering somewhere over my shoulder.

“Super cute new guy!” squealed Trina who had swivelled round in her chair to get a better look

“You know, looks aren’t everything you guys,” I told them but they just waved my comment away. I turn anyway to look at the guy and it had to be said he was pretty gorgeous. You know the type with the constantly messed up hair and the dark eyes with the really thick eyelashes and cheekbones up to their forehead. Yeah, that was pretty much him. His fingers were really long and thin and I couldn’t help but notice that they never stopped moving: tapping against his thighs, twisting in and out of each other.

All in all: hot.

Still, he could be really full of himself or do drugs or have Voldemort on the back of his head... You get the picture.

Suddenly, Trina’s phone started to ring and she jumped up with a squeal. When she had managed to dig the phone out of her pocket she looked at the caller ID.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I’ve got to take this, guys, talk to you later.” Then she ran off.

“What was that about?” I asked Robin

“Some super important phone call she’s supposed to be getting.” Robin replied

“And...”

“That’s all I know, she wouldn’t tell me anymore.”

Now, another thing you may need to know about me is that I am very, very curious. I literally was incapable of not knowing what the secret phone call was. However, as I didn’t see where Trina had run off to I would have to settle for desperately guessing.

“I bet it's from the FBI, she’s been recruited!” I say

“I really don’t think that’s it,” answered Robin rationally, “she failed gym last year remember.”

“Ok... she is secretly an alien and has to go back to the mother ship.”

Robin just looked at me.

“Well, maybe she was bitten by a mutant bee and she’s now wasp woman and has to go to the buzz mobile.”

“The buzz mobile, Ally?”

“She has to go to court because she accidently broke into a bank, she has to go fight against a pit of cobras, she has to get her licence for shovelling snow, a giant blueberry has fallen on top of her house...”

I was cut off mid flow by the bell. I couldn’t help but notice Robin looking faintly relieved.