Tame Chapter 1

“Amanda, I have some news for you?”

It was Monday morning and the bell had rang dismissing students to their next class, but before I could make it to the door Miss Daniels said she needed to talk to me. I had been hoping all weekend that she would get me into the Art Club.

When I first walked into her classroom today she didn’t acknowledge whether or not she had helped me get in or not so this left me under the impression that she hadn’t done it yet or that she was unable to get me into the club and was trying to buy some time before she revealed to me the bad news.

“Miss Daniels,” I said as I approached her desk. “Is this about the Art Club?”

“Yes, I just wanted you to know that I managed to get you back into that club.”

I felt a heavy burden lift off my heart and felt my shoulders relax. I had been unaware that I had been stiff with tension while I had been waiting for Ms. Daniels to answer my suspenseful question.

“I had Mr. Milnan review the list and double check the names and he found out that a few of the names written on the list were fake. The names were made up and just put on the list to take up space.” she then asked. “Do you know why anyone would do that?”

“I don’t know.” I said shrugging.

I knew that Lydia and Ashley had probably written phony names on the list to keep me out of the club. It didn’t matter because I was now enrolled in the club and there was nothing they could do about it.

“I had Mr. Milnan sign you up for it and he said that the first meeting is Wednesday after school in the Art room.”

“Thank you so much Ms. Daniels.” I said so overcome with joy that I leaned over her desk and embraced her. “You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you so much.”

I released her from my embrace.

Ms. Daniels seemed caught off guard by my display of my gratitude towards her, but she managed to compose a modest outlook on her actions.

“It wasn’t much. I’m sure anyone would have done it.”

________________

Before lunch began, I met Dan Mebaby at his locker to see how his progress with Heather was coming along. I knew it was risky to approach him out in the open, but I really wanted to know if any of the information that I gave to him had come in use. When I approached him at his locker he appeared to be caught off guard by my presence.

Dan closed his locker and together we walked down the hallway away from the large mob of students.

“So…” I asked, “Has anything I’ve told you helped?”

“I haven’t really been able to speak to her yet.” said Dan. “She’s always…talking to someone. I can’t just go up to her. It doesn’t work that way.”

I frowned and shook my head in disgust. I was beginning to feel as though it was a waste of time to giving Dan all that information about Heather when he wasn’t even going to use it. I wasn’t sure why, but when he approached me asking for details about Heather last week I was under the impression that he was this confident guy who just needed a little nudge toward happiness, but it turns out that he needs someone to walk with him the entire way.

“So basically, you’re saying you haven’t done anything with the information that I’ve given you.”

Dan began to scratch his head nervously and study his feet. After a moment of avoiding eye contact with me he forced himself to look at me as he came out and said what was on his mind.

“Well it’s not that easy okay.” He was silent for a moment and then said quietly, more to himself than to me. “I really don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“Listen Dan,” I said shaking my head in the process. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘If you’re going to love someone, then do it with confidence’? Why have feelings for someone if you’re going to be anxious the entire time. Look, I’ll help you learn to talk to Heather. Since we use to be friends it should be easy.”

“Alright, but you can’t tell anyone about this.” He said seriously. “I’ll be a laughing stock.”

“Trust me, who would I tell?”

“I’ll come by your house after school or do you want to come to my house? Where do you even live at?”

This slightly caught me off guard. The only other person’s whose house I had even been invited over to was Heather’s and she lived next door to me. I had never been over to a guy’s house before. I stared at him blankly unsure of what to say.

“Is my house okay?” he asked again, appearing baffled by my abrupt silence.

“Uh, okay.” I said after a moment. “What time?”

“Right after school,” he then added. “I can give you a lift, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,”

Dan gave me his address then informed where to meet him in the parking lot afterschool. We then we split up. I felt slightly awkward about going over to his house after school when I didn’t even really know him that well. I reminded myself that if this went well, these confident lessons I was giving him, then maybe I wouldn’t have to worry so much about Heather.

________

Before heading toward Mr. Richwood’s classroom for lunch I made a quick dash into the bathroom to check my appearance in the mirror. I studied my reflection for several minutes, trying to determine if I was presentable enough. I fixed my hair several times and straightened my clothes out, despite the fact that my hair was fine and my clothes weren’t even wrinkled.

Ever since I started this school year my appearance was becoming more important to me. In the past, I had placed a lot more of my focus inward on my personality, but with Heather Drysdale as my competition I felt that it was only natural that I suddenly devote more of my attention toward my appearance.

As quickly as the thought of Heather had entered my mind, I heard her voice floating through the hallway. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want her to see me so I ran into a bathroom stall, locking the door behind me.

A few seconds later, I peered through the crack in the stall door to see Heather, Ann Windslow, and Lydia enter the bathroom. Ann walked into the stall on the right side of me while Heather and Lydia went straight for the mirrors.

They were too busy talking to one another to notice that I was in the bathroom with them. I had to switch between which of the cracks I peered through a few times in order to get a clear view of both Heather and Lydia who were in mirrors on opposite ends of the bathroom.

“Are we still going shopping after school?” asked Ann Windslow in the stall next to me.

“Of course,” was Heather’s response. “Remember, you promised to buy me some new shoes.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lydia through a mouth full of gum. “Ann always keeps her promises.”

“Of course!” I heard Ann say.

I watched Heather through the crack in the stall as she began to brush her long silky hair with a brush she had taken from an expensive purse that I suspected Ann had bought for her. Heather was just like me, poor and had no extra income to be spent on herself. There was no way she could afford something like that.

I wasn’t sure if Ann had bought it for her as a token of their friendship or if Heather had manipulated her into getting it. There was even the possibly that she could have stolen it, but I doubted Heather would do that since she didn’t have a history of theft.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the mention of Mr. Richwood’s name.

“Mr. Richwood’s crappy art club thingy starts Wednesday,” I heard Lydia say.

“Yeah, it won’t be long until he’s mine.” said Heather.

She had abandoned her brush and was now smearing lip gloss across her lips. She then began to repeatedly pucker her lips in the mirror as if she was mimicking the motion of kissing her reflection.

“What are you going on about?” I heard Ann say as the toilet flushed.

“Well, he’s obviously into me. I’ve caught him staring at me a few times. Then as soon as I catch him looking at me, he tries to act innocent by looking away even though I know he’s checking me out. Trust me…” I heard Heather laughed in an arrogant kind of way. “It won’t be long before I have him wrapped around my finger. This little art club is only going to help me.”

The stall door next to me opened up and Ann made her way over toward the sink to wash her hands.

“Listen Heather,” said Ann. “I wouldn’t act so cocky. Melissa told me she think he has a thing for that Scarfield girl. She said something about seeing her enter his classroom alone or something.”

“Who Amanda?” said Heather. “I’m not the least bit worried about her and you shouldn’t be either. Besides, everyone knows men prefer blondes. They say we’re more fun.”

“Hey!” Lydia protested since he had dark hair. “That’s not true! I‘m fun too,”

Heather and Ann, who were both blondes, began to laugh at this and from my view in the stall, Lydia appeared to be offended by their remark. Ann brushed it off as a joke, but Lydia still appeared to be offended by their remark. They spoke for a few more minutes and then made their way out of the bathroom.

I waited a few minutes and then exited the stall feeling slightly heartbroken. I wasn’t sure if what Heather had said about Mr. Richwood was true or not. Did he really stare at her in class or was she simply exaggerating? There was a deep sinking in my heart by the notion that the Art Club would secure Heather in a relationship with Mr. Richwood.

I no longer cared what I had to do, but I had to do something to stop this.

______

I made my way from the bathroom toward Mr. Richwood’s classroom. I had already spent fifteen minutes of my half an hour lunch in the bathroom eavesdropping on Heather and her group. I then spent additional time trying to work up the courage to come to Mr. Richwood’s classroom.

I tried to reassure myself that what Heather had said about him staring at her and checking her out in class was lie, but my mind wouldn’t let go of the possibility of this being true. The more I thought about it, the more foolish I began to feel.

I was beginning to feel as though I had been an idiot to think that Mr. Richwood would be interested in me. Heather had the potential to be a model or win a beauty pageant. There was no doubt in my mind that if he had to choose between her or me that he would pick her.

I opened the door and walked inside finding his desk empty. I scanned the room and spotted him toward the back of the classroom standing on top of a stool taking a small box off the top of a large cabinet that had several piles of art supplies piled on the top.

“There you are,”

When I entered the classroom he stepped off the stool and made his way toward his desk smiling politely at me. He placed the box on top of his desk and turned to address me, wearing this handsome look in his eyes that was enough to make anyone who stared at him blush.

His short bangs were combed over his forehead providing a form of shade for his eyes. I quickly wondered if those were the same eyes Heather had claimed to be focused on her.

“I was wondering what happened to you. I thought you had abandoned me to go eat lunch with some other Art teacher.” He grinned after saying this.

“But you’re the only Art teacher our school has,” I said as a grin formed across my face. “So I guess that would be impossible.”

He laughed to himself. I made my way over toward the desk in front of his and placed my lunch on the top. I didn’t feel much like eating lunch today, but I still had to bring it to make it look as though I had a reason for coming to his class.

“What’s in the box?” I asked curiously.

“Paint…I’m trying to get the materials ready for the Art Club.” He then began to peel some tape off the box. “Miss Daniels mentioned to me that you had some trouble signing up for it, but she said it had worked out somehow.”

I felt a small amount of betrayal run through me. I didn’t want Mr. Richwood to know I had any problems signing up and I couldn’t believe Miss Daniels would tell him this. She probably mentioned it to him with no real intention of offending me, but I still couldn’t believe she had went behind my back without my consent and revealed this to Mr. Richwood. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt slightly betrayed.

Mr. Richwood was too busy opening the box offended I appeared to look by what he had said Miss Daniels had told him.

“Well, Miss Daniels helped me get into it,” I said slowly.

“That’s great. The first meeting is Wednesday.” He then asked. “Hey could you grab me that box off that cabinet”

“Sure,”

I walked over to where Mr. Richwood had been standing early and climbed up on top of the stool. There were half a dozen small boxes compacted on to the top of cabinet leaving me unsure which was the one Mr. Richwood needed.

“Which box?” I asked.

“It has the word ‘Supplies’ scribbled on the side.” He said without looking up from the paint he was taking out of the box.

I spotted the box he was talking about was located at the very top of the stack. It was much too high and out of reach. I sighed and began to stand on my tippy-toes with the stool slightly wobbling under my feet. I was still too short to reach the box. I stretched my hand to the top of the pile and felt my fingertips brush across the side of the box’s surface.

I caught a glimpse of Mr. Richwood as he looked over at me for the first time becoming aware of the struggle I was having trying to reach the box.

“Here, forget it Amanda,” he said gently as he started making his way over toward the stool. “It’s too high, I’ll get it. You’re going to fall and hurt yourself.”

As soon as these words left his mouth, I felt my feet slip from beneath the stool and I could feel gravity begin to pull me downward. I was falling, but before I could fall and hit the ground or any nearby desks, Mr. Richwood ran a short distance and caught me in his arms saving me from falling.