Marcus

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This must be the new girl.

She had to be. I would know if I had seen her before.

Her long braids fell to her waist. Her brown skin was radiant even under the fluorescent lights of the chemistry lab. Unlike the other girls, her skirt fell below her knees, and she wore the standard shiny black dress shoes. The uniform usually makes girls look a bit frumpy and matronly, but it looked cute on her.

Whitney never followed the dress code, she kept her skirt short and her heels high.

"Uh, is this Mr. Cooper's class?" she asked, stepping into the classroom.

Clearing my throat, I answered, "Yes—yes, it is."

With a quiet thank you, she went and sat at the table in front of me.

"I should talk to her," I thought to myself. But when I went to open my mouth no words came out. I had plenty of things that I could have said.

Hi, what's your name?

Are you new here?

I know I don't know you, but will you marry me?

God, why am I so nervous? I just have to say hi—I'm sure she's not going to bite me. I don't know if I would stop her if she tried.

As I opened my mouth to introduce myself, the bell rang loudly throughout the halls interrupting me.

Shit.

Maybe after class.

Mr. Cooper walked into class with a huge grin plastered on his narrow face. He always has a smile on his face after talking to Mrs. Miles. I'm convinced he's in love with her.

"Good morning, class," he greeted us. His eyes fell on the new girl sitting in the front row. With an enthusiastic wave, he gestured for her to come to his desk.

Slipping off her stool, she went over to introduce herself taking her backpack with her.

"I heard her dad's a basketball player," someone whispered behind me.

"Well, I heard she transferred from a school in New York."

Where do they hear these things?

"Marcus, can you come up here, please?" Mr. Cooper asked, putting an end to my eavesdropping.

"Yes, sir." Quickly, I made my way upfront. She was even prettier up close and shorter than I thought. I did my best not to stare as Mr. Cooper introduced us, I'm not sure how successful I was.

"Marcus, this is Nia. Nia, this is Marcus."

She gave me a small smile, and I gave her a slight nod in return. I feared she would try to shake my hand, they were both very sweaty at the moment. I don't know what's wrong with me, I've never been this nervous around a girl before. Granted, I've never had to be, Whitney was my first and only girlfriend.

"Marcus, I want you to be Nia's lab partner since your partner is visiting his mother in New York this semester," he said. "Is that okay with you?"

Thank you, God.

"That's fine with me, Mr. Cooper," I said keeping my cool.

"Is that okay with you, Nia?"

Nodding, she said, "That's fine."

"Great," Mr. Cooper smiled. "Marcus if you can share your notes with Nia. Nia, you can use today to gauge where we are if you have any questions feel free to ask me or Marcus."

Everyone was staring at us, or her, I should say. I could hear their whispers as we walked back to our table. I didn't blame them for staring, I couldn't keep my eyes off her either.

"Class turn to page 205," Mr. Cooper instructed us as we began class. Everyone started pulling out their textbooks and turning to the right page, except for Nia.

"Hey, M—," she faltered. She doesn't remember my name.

"Marcus," I reminded her.

"Marcus," she repeated after me, committing it to memory. "Could you share your textbook with me? I don't have any of my books yet."

"Oh, of course." I pushed my textbook in between us, so we could both read it.

She thanked me, pulling out her notebook, preparing to take notes. It was covered in stickers, mostly quotes, but she had a Bob's Burgers sticker right in the middle.

"I love that show," I said, keeping my voice down so I wouldn't disrupt Mr. Cooper's lecture.

"What?" she asked, not realizing what I was talking about at first. I pointed to the sticker. "Oh, yeah, mine too. I could watch it over, and over again."

I agreed, "My favorite episode is when they have to get a new Christmas tree on Christmas eve, I've seen that episode a million times."

"Me too," she agreed.

"So where are you from?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. I wasn't even paying attention to what Mr. Cooper was saying.

"Oh, I'm from Jefferson Heights, it's about forty-five minutes away," she answered. Jefferson Heights, I know where that is. I've never been there, but I see it on the news a lot. Mostly for drug busts and shootings.

"Why'd you transfer?" I asked, watching her sign and date her paper, she has the prettiest handwriting. Not quite cursive, but still too nice to be standard print.

"I got a scholarship," she explained, leaning forward to get a closer look at the textbook. My breath hitched as I watched her chest strain against the buttons of her shirt. "It was unexpected. What about you—have you always gone here?"

"Yeah," I croaked. Clearing my throat, I said, "Yes, I've gone here since kindergarten."

"Kindergarten?" she said amazed, "Wow, that's a long time. It's still so strange that all the schools are connected. This building alone is already so big."

"This campus is huge, it's easy to get lost."

"I've noticed. I've been on a tour, and Marge—I mean Dean Nelson, gave me a map, and I still don't know where I'm going."

Dramatically, he drew a diagram on the board before moving into a Bill Nye-Esque explanation of whatever he was trying to explain. In his early thirties, Mr. Cooper was one of the youngest, and best, teachers at East Chapel. He wasn't stiff and boring like some of the others; he made the class interesting.

"Um, is he always so...animated during lectures?" Nia asked, watching Mr. Cooper spin around in a circle pretending to be an atom. He looked ridiculous, his dark hair was going all over the place, and he was one hard turn away from his glasses flying across the room.

"Pretty much," I answered her. "You should hear his periodic table song."

"There's a song?" she asked shocked. Her brown eyes widened as she looked at him.

"Oh, yeah. It's Grammy worthy," I exaggerated. More like cringe-worthy, watching him stumble through the periodic table was the most awkward two minutes of my life.

"That's incredible," she said amazed. "I have to hear it."

"I think there's a video on YouTube."

"Marcus, do you have a question?" Mr. Cooper asked stopping his demonstration.

"Uh, yes, Mr. Cooper. I wanted to know if you could explain it again, I didn't get a chance to write it down in my notes."

"Of course, Marcus, make sure you pay attention this time. Now it goes like this..." He began spinning in a circle all over again.

Giggling, Nia watched Mr. Copper make a fool out of himself for the second time today. I didn't need him to demonstrate anything, I know everything we're going over, I just wanted to hear her laugh again.

****

"What's your next class?" I asked as we stuffed our things in our bags. The bell had just dismissed us, but I wasn't ready to part ways with her just yet.

She unfolded her schedule. "Gym with Mr. Peters."

"Oh, you have Coach?"

She shrugged slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "I guess. Have you had him before?"

"Yeah, he's my football coach. He's cooler in class than he is on the field." If only he was as cool in practice as he is in class. "I can show you where the gym is if you want."

"Can you? I have no idea where I'm going," she said, gratefully.

"Definitely, it's on the way to my next class." That's not entirely true, it was actually in the opposite direction. I'm sure Mrs. Stanfield will understand if I'm late to class, she would want me to help a new student.

Catching me off guard, Nia asked, "Are you a big George Orwell fan?"

"I saw you reading 1984 when I walked into class," she explained, as we walked towards the gym. I didn't think she had noticed, I had put it down as soon as she walked in.

"Yeah, I like him." I don't really talk about my reading habits with my friends much, they don't get it.

"I read 1984 last year, I really liked it. It's kind of scary how it relates to now, though. I put a piece of tape over my laptop camera after I was done reading it." She likes Bob's Burgers and 1984, she's perfect.

"This is my sixth time reading it," I admitted. It felt good having someone to talk about this with. Sam and Nick don't read, at least not recreationally, and Whitney didn't see the point in reading the book when she could watch the movie.

"Wow, why so many times?" she asked with genuine interest.

"It's one of my favorite books." It always has been, ever since I pulled it from my Dad's bookcase, I've been hooked. I didn't get what Orwell was trying to say at first, but as I got older I started to understand what was happening.

"Nice. I practically live in Barnes and Noble," she laughed. "Well, I work there, but I still love it."

"Oh, which one? I go to the one in Crescent View Mall," I told her.

"That's the one," she smiled.

"Really? I've never seen you there," I said. But I know I'm going to go to Barnes and Noble every day until I do.

"I haven't been working there very long." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. We stood in front of the glass gym doors. I wish I would have taken her the long way, so I could talk to her more. She's so interesting, and cool, and smart, and pretty. God, she is so pretty, and she smells like vanilla.

"Is this it?" she asked, looking through the glass.

"Yeah, this is it," I answered, reluctant to leave.

She toyed with the handle of her backpack. "Am I stupid for feeling nervous?"

I shook my head. "No, but you have nothing to be worried about. Coach probably won't make you do anything."

"I hope not, gym isn't really my thing," she admitted. "I should go in before I'm late."

"Oh, me too." I had a feeling I was already going to be late, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Okay, bye."

"Bye. Have fun."

She chuckled, "I'll try."

Have fun?

I told her to have fun in gym. Who has fun in gym?

Kids rushed past me, trying to beat the late bell. But I didn't leave until Nia made it on the other side of the gym. There's no reason for me to rush to class, no matter if I went fast or slow, I was going to be late regardless. This gives me more time to think about Nia.

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