True Blood
Inching Towards the Truth
By the time I got to History I was in a considerably better mood, thanks to the mysterious boy. I went to my seat in to back of the class, took out my books, and laid my head on the desk, staring at the wall as I ignored the thoughts in my head.
Then the bell rang, and both sets of voices lowered. Only hearing the squeak of shoes on the fake tile floor, I felt the sensation of déjà vu and looked up.
Sure enough, there he was, handing my old History teacher a red slip that said he was switching into the class, same black notebook in hand. The teacher initialed the form and sent the boy on his way. He proceeded down the row next to mine and took the seat next to me. Setting his notebook on the desk, he turned to face me, what I could see of his eyes was light and lazy grin melted his sharp features. I was almost sure he knew I had been watching him.
“Excuse me miss, but would you have a pen I could borrow?” My eyebrows rose a little out of habit, and the corners of my mouth lifted. I figured that if he was going to just vanish as soon as class was over, I was going to drag out my conversations with him.
“Have you asked that of every girl you sat next to this morning?” The smile grew faintly.
“No miss. Only you.” I blushed at both comments. He was so polite, nothing like the boys who acted like girls were their property these days. And it was somewhat silly to think he had a pen, but was asking me for one anyways. But the thought was sweet.
“Of course, I have a pen you could borrow.” I pulled one out of my backpack and handed it to him.
“Thank you very much, miss.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned to another tab in his notebook and froze as if he were about to take notes, pen set above the paper and eyes following the teachers, posture perfect just as it was before. I listened to the teacher for a few minutes before drawing on the paper on the desk. At first it was just little hearts, trivial things these days because of how commonly they were used. Then it was a heart split down the middle, stitched up and stapled together again. Next I added angel wings and a halo to one side. To the other, I gave horns and a spiky tale. I'd drawn the same thing many times before. It was all over my papers, much to my teachers' distastes. It reminded me of yin and yang, good and evil, the balance between all things in life. That got me wondering why I couldn’t find the balance in my life. Why I couldn’t have friends because I’d always invade their privacy. Why I couldn’t lead a normal life unless I was completely alone. Which led me to a near emotional breakdown, shaking limbs and breaths included.
I saw the boy next to me turn to look at me and I realized I must have looked simply ridiculous, on the verge of tears in the middle of a history class.
“Miss, what’s the matter?” I shook my head and wiped my eyes, furiously blinking away the misty tears.
“Nothing. Thank you.” I turned to face him, then remembered that my eyes were probably red and turned back to my drawing. I hoped he would feel the underlying gratitude I was trying to convey. I didn’t expect him to understand why I was so thankful though. That would just complicate things.
“Is there anything I could do?”
I sniffed. “No, I don’t think so.” You do so much for me already, I wanted to say, but that would just confuse him. There was no smile on his face now.
The rest of the class was packing up. The boy picked up his pen and offered it to me, a hopeful look on what I could see of his face. I laughed inside at how this boy who I barely knew but probably knew better than anyone at this school was trying to make me feel better. It was nice to have someone who cared; I began feeling a little better.
“Thank you again.” I smiled weakly and took the pen, staring at him all the while. He stared back at me without blinking and I sighed. For some reason I felt suddenly fatigued. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t have that beautiful silence for the rest of the day. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the flood of thoughts that was about to return.
I blinked.
IAnd was just able to see his back before he was out the door and gone.
Then the bell rang, and both sets of voices lowered. Only hearing the squeak of shoes on the fake tile floor, I felt the sensation of déjà vu and looked up.
Sure enough, there he was, handing my old History teacher a red slip that said he was switching into the class, same black notebook in hand. The teacher initialed the form and sent the boy on his way. He proceeded down the row next to mine and took the seat next to me. Setting his notebook on the desk, he turned to face me, what I could see of his eyes was light and lazy grin melted his sharp features. I was almost sure he knew I had been watching him.
“Excuse me miss, but would you have a pen I could borrow?” My eyebrows rose a little out of habit, and the corners of my mouth lifted. I figured that if he was going to just vanish as soon as class was over, I was going to drag out my conversations with him.
“Have you asked that of every girl you sat next to this morning?” The smile grew faintly.
“No miss. Only you.” I blushed at both comments. He was so polite, nothing like the boys who acted like girls were their property these days. And it was somewhat silly to think he had a pen, but was asking me for one anyways. But the thought was sweet.
“Of course, I have a pen you could borrow.” I pulled one out of my backpack and handed it to him.
“Thank you very much, miss.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned to another tab in his notebook and froze as if he were about to take notes, pen set above the paper and eyes following the teachers, posture perfect just as it was before. I listened to the teacher for a few minutes before drawing on the paper on the desk. At first it was just little hearts, trivial things these days because of how commonly they were used. Then it was a heart split down the middle, stitched up and stapled together again. Next I added angel wings and a halo to one side. To the other, I gave horns and a spiky tale. I'd drawn the same thing many times before. It was all over my papers, much to my teachers' distastes. It reminded me of yin and yang, good and evil, the balance between all things in life. That got me wondering why I couldn’t find the balance in my life. Why I couldn’t have friends because I’d always invade their privacy. Why I couldn’t lead a normal life unless I was completely alone. Which led me to a near emotional breakdown, shaking limbs and breaths included.
I saw the boy next to me turn to look at me and I realized I must have looked simply ridiculous, on the verge of tears in the middle of a history class.
“Miss, what’s the matter?” I shook my head and wiped my eyes, furiously blinking away the misty tears.
“Nothing. Thank you.” I turned to face him, then remembered that my eyes were probably red and turned back to my drawing. I hoped he would feel the underlying gratitude I was trying to convey. I didn’t expect him to understand why I was so thankful though. That would just complicate things.
“Is there anything I could do?”
I sniffed. “No, I don’t think so.” You do so much for me already, I wanted to say, but that would just confuse him. There was no smile on his face now.
The rest of the class was packing up. The boy picked up his pen and offered it to me, a hopeful look on what I could see of his face. I laughed inside at how this boy who I barely knew but probably knew better than anyone at this school was trying to make me feel better. It was nice to have someone who cared; I began feeling a little better.
“Thank you again.” I smiled weakly and took the pen, staring at him all the while. He stared back at me without blinking and I sighed. For some reason I felt suddenly fatigued. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t have that beautiful silence for the rest of the day. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the flood of thoughts that was about to return.
I blinked.
IAnd was just able to see his back before he was out the door and gone.