Tame Chapter 1

I felt guilty about not calling Heather back. The next day, we were walking to school and Heather wanted to know why I hadn’t called her back. I lied and told her that my mother had called to tell me that she was expecting an important phone call and that I had to stay off the phone.

Heather appeared to believe me. We walked to school and she told me all about how she was up late on the phone with some of the kids from school. Ashley and Lydia had basically connected her with several students in our school.

There was no doubt in my mind that Heather’s new found popularity was due to the way she spoke to Mr. Richwood and also due to her looks. Without those two aspects to tie to her reputation, I was certain she would be ignored by the popular kids who appeared to run our school.

When we reached the school, we found our lockers and shoved our book bags inside. She then led the way toward Mr. Richwood’s classroom. When we walked in I spotted him at his desk typing on his computer.

“Good morning, Mr. Richwood,” said Heather as she greeted him.

He looked over his computer screen at us and smiled his heart breaking grin that made my heart melt.

“Good morning ladies,”

I turned my head as made my way down my row so that he wouldn’t catch me blushing. I then took my seat. Heather slid into her desk and then turned to face me. She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“At lunch, you have to tell me all about him.”

She then stationed herself in her desk and began to unpack a few belongings from her purse. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I looked up and spotted Ashley and Lydia making their way toward Heather. They approached her desk and spoke to her a few minutes about something they had talk about over the phone last night.

I felt slightly excluded from their circle, but tried to look distracted as I began to draw a random picture of a house. The bell rang and everyone took their seats just as Mr. Richwood was standing up to speak.

“So is everyone ready to learn today?”

“Yes,” all the girls said at the same time a few boys said, “No,”

Mr. Richwood laughed to at our class’ response. He was so cute when he laughed.

“Well I like to think of Art as a way of expressing yourselves. It also helps you see the beauty in life. Art is more than just taking a pencil and trying to recreate an image, but instead, it’s trying to capture an image and make those who see it…feel a certain way. So I thought we would begin with a little craft project. We’re going to make pottery.”

“Pottery?’ asked a senior sitting in the front row. “You mean like a bowl?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yeah, we’re making a bowl. I have a special type of clay I’m going to give each of you and I want you to make either a bowl, spoon, knife, fork, or mug. This task will take a couple of days, so we’re just going to work with forming the shape.”

Mr. Richwood had four students help him pass out the modeling clay. I had done this very same task last year and knew that it was going to be easy for me. One of the students sat a large package of clay on top of my desk that was the size of a brick. Once each of the students had their clay, Mr. Richwood instructed us to open it and begin to mold it into the shape of whatever utensil or dish we would make.

I decided that since I had made a bowl last year, I would try to make a mug this year and give it to my mother as a gift. Heather’s eyes scanned the classroom, watching each of the students dive into their clay.

“Is he serious?” Heather asked me.

“Well, duh,”

“I’m going to break my nails,”

Heather poked the dark orange clay with her finger, then after a moment or two she began to morph the dough into the shape of what appeared to be a bowl. I glanced over at her a few times to see if she needed any help, but then devoted my attention to my own work. I wanted to do well on this so that I could give it to my mother.

After about ten minutes of working, I found myself nearly done with the mug’s shape. This wasn’t the type of clay that they sold at Wal-Mart in little cups, but instead it was very thick like putty had required much more effort when rolling.

“Oh Mr. Richwood,” Heather called in a singsong voice. “I need some help back here,”

I looked up and spotted him at the front of the classroom, hovering next to a student who was nearly complete with what appeared to be a spoon. He said something to the student and then made his way down the rows.

I was surprised he would consider coming close to Heather even after she was directly flirting with him yesterday. I thought to myself how he appeared to fear nothing and wasn’t going to let someone like Heather intimidate him.

Today he had on a profession look, unlike his typical guy outfit from yesterday. He was wearing black dress pants and a collared grey shirt with a striped tie attached to his shirt. The shirt was short sleeve revealing his beefy biceps. He had a great body, but always kept it hidden under layers of clothing.

“What is it Miss Drysdale?” he asked as he approached her desk.

“I need help modeling this,” she stared up at him with twinkling eyes. “It’s too hard. Can you help me?”

I felt my stomach turning, realizing that this was another one of her sick tactics to make Mr. Richwood fall for her. I looked to him, hoping he would be clever enough not to fall for this disturbing trick of hers.

“It’s not that hard,” He said in way that made her look as though she were exaggerating.

He took the clay from her and began to smash it on the desk surface with his fists. Heather, I, and a few nearby students watched intriguingly.

“If you use your fists, it flattens much quicker,” He slid the clay in front of her. “Now you try.”

“Nah,” Heather rested her head in her right hand that was sitting on the desk and stared up at Mr. Richwood in an admirable way. “Can you do it for me? I just want to watch you make it since you’re so good at it.”

“Heather if I make the bowl, then I’m going to keep it.”

“Sure,” she said seductively. “You can keep it. In fact, we’ll share it and whenever I want to use it I’ll just come over to your house.”

I had to admit that was pretty clever. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flirt so casually the way Heather. I watched Mr. Richwood to see how he would react. He smiled placidly.

“I’m sure you can do it on your own.” was all he said.

He then turned his attention to me and once I was under his gaze I told myself to remain calm and try not to tremble.

“Amanda’s doing an excellence job,” he walked along side my desk and hovered over me.

I was hopping my hands wouldn’t tremble as I began to mold the clay into a solid form. My heart nearly exploded when he placed his hands on my shoulders, probably just to lean over me and see what I was working on, but any form of body contact from him was enough to make me faint.

“Keep up the good work,” he said and then moved on toward the front of the class.

My heart literally felt as though there was a drummer inside of it beating his drum over and over. I felt my thoughts flying around in my head and I couldn’t focus. Did that really just happen? Heather appeared to notice it too and raised her eyes brows up and down at me, but said nothing of the matter.

Heather managed to make what appeared to be a bowl. Before the bell rang, Mr. Richwood had us place the bowls on a table in the backroom. He told us he was going to put them in the art room’s oven later on and let them get hard so we could paint them.

“Amanda,” Mr. Richwood said before I walked out of his classroom. “A minute please,”

I approached him with my heart still racing from recalling when he had placed his hands on my shoulders. He was standing in the back room, lifting some of the student’s pottery into the oven that was embedded in a corner of the room. The class was now empty and Heather had already left to walk to class with Ashley since they shared their next class together.

“Yes,” I said camly.

“I looked over the sketches you drew over the summer and they’re just stunning. I’d like to ask for your permission to submit a few of them to the Art Museum,” he said as he lifted a mug into the oven. “They hold a contest monthly and I just know you’ll win.”

“Sure…I don’t mind,”

“Great,” he then turned and stared me directly in the eyes. “And you’re always welcome to join me during my lunch break to work on your art. I have it 5th period.”

“Sure, I might come sometimes since I have lunch,”

I thanked him again and then made my way out of his classroom. I wanted to come to him for lunch, the way I had last year, but the thing was I couldn’t abandon Heather.

When it was lunch time I was heading toward the table Heather had secured for us yesterday, but she grabbed my hand and told me that we were invited to sit with someone else.

As she led me toward the table I recognized that the people she refered to as someone else were the crowd of the cool kids. There were about eight of them and sitting among them were Ashley, Lydia, and Ann Windslow. As we took our seat, I immediately felt out of place. These were the most popular kids in school and I didn’t belong here.

They appeared to feel the same way because as I took my seat they looked at me with disapproval, considering me as a leech that was clinging on to Heather. I felt uncomfortable and wanted to flee from the table, but remained sitting there next to Heather.

They spent a majority of the lunch period talking to Heather and appeared to forget that I was even at the table. Heather probably wasn’t doing it intentionally, but she was excluding me from the conversation.

I ate my lunch slowly and tried not to look so awkward. When Heather did address me and bring me into the conversation it was over something I had been trying to avoiding talking to her about.

“Amanda,” Heather asked. “You have to tell me all about him. Like, what does he like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said quietly.

The popular kids had directed their attention to me and I felt slightly self-conscious under their gaze since they always ignored me and probably didn’t even know what my name was.

“Don’t be so modest Amanda,” Heather then laughed. “You’re probably the closest student to him. You had him last year, he spoke to you after class,” She then turned to the group. “He even did one of these numbers.” Heather reenacted the way Mr. Richwood placed his hands on my shoulders. “I was so jealous watching that. You have to tell me something, anything about him.”

“Wait,” asked one girl. “What did he do to her?”

“Oh just a little hand to hand combat,” Heather winked. “But I’m not talking about fighting.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t like the way Heather was sitting here, blabbing all my business to these people she hardly knew and then they would spread it throughout the school turning me into something that I wasn’t.

She apparently only wanted to talk about Mr. Richwood. If that was the case, then I was ready to sit somewhere else.

I rose from my seat and without saying anything I climbed over the lunch’s bench table and began to make my way out of the cafeteria. I was halfway down an empty hallway when Heather managed to catch up with me.

“Amanda,” she grabbed my arm and I turned to face her. “What’s wrong?”

I could no longer control my anger or jealousy. My mind was clouded with the memories of her hitting on Mr. Richwood and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I was overwhelmed with this mini obsession she had formed over him and was tired of her always talking about him.

“You’re what’s wrong Heather. I’m tired of you and all this Mr. Richwood talk. He doesn’t care about you. Can’t you see that?”

Heather was obviously caught off guard by my enraged tone and for the first time in our friendship, I saw her breezy, cheerful personality reveal its dark side.

“What are you talking about Amanda?” she asked coldly. “Honestly, I don’t understand what your problem is. You’ve become a real jerk ever since we’ve started school.”

“I’m the jerk? You look like fool,” I began to imitate her in a whinny voice and twirl my hair around my fingers. “‘Oh hi Mr. Richwood’, ‘Can you do it for me? I just want to watch you make it, since you’re so good at it’. Can’t you get it through your head? He‘s not interested in you and you’re making yourself look like a fool. Are you that desperate for a man’s attention?”

Heather’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head looking at me as if she just realized something.

“You like him don’t you,”

My heart began to race faster than I could imagine. I had kept it a secret for so long. How did she find out?

“No I don’t,” I lied.

“Yes you do,” Heather nodded. “You do like him.”

“I don’t like him Heather and he’ll never love you, no matter how hard you try. So just stop!”

“Alright then,” Heather smirked. “I’ll show you. You think you can win his heart before I do, well we’ll just see about that. Whoever makes him fall for them first wins. You’ve just gained a powerful new enemy Amanda, so watch your back.”

Heather turned her back on me and walked away.