He was beautiful. Like one of those Greek god statues.
He had thick dark hair and deep green eyes. His broad shoulders filled out his blazer perfectly.
He held a tattered copy of 1984 by George Orwell in his hands. A man that reads—perfection.
I'm staring at him—he's staring at me—we're staring at each other...maybe. I don't know.
"Uh, is this Mr. Cooper's class?" I asked awkwardly still standing in the doorway.
He straightened in his chair, saying, "Yeah—yeah, it is."
"Oh, okay."
I walked into the classroom and sat at the table in front of, shit, I don't know his name. I'm going to name him, Adonis, because he looks like a Greek statue.
It was so quiet, I could hear my heart thumping in my chest.
Should I talk to him? It would be rude of me not too. We're the only ones in the room.
I'm not sure what to say?
I'm sure a simple introduction would suffice, but maybe I should just wait and see if he talks to me first. No, I can talk to him. I can, I can do it.
Okay, this is it—I'm going to turn around and start a conversation with him.
Right now.
Maybe in a minute.
I watched a minute tick by on the clock above the board, maybe not. I didn't even attempt to turn around, I wanted to, but I froze. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, I'm great at talking to people.
Okay, I got this. I'm going to turn around right now, and I'm going to talk to Adonis, and we're going to be friends and if we make out that's okay too.
The late bell rang, and students from the hallway started filing into the classroom. I'll just talk to him later, I guess.
The other students gave me interested glances as they passed by. It would be easier if they just ask me who I am, it might make things less awkward.
A man I'm assuming is the teacher walked in. He wore grey tartan pants, a white button-down, and a goofy grin. He was young, thirty, maybe even younger. He noticed me and waved me over.
I could hear faint whispers, as I approached his desk. Knowing that they were talking about me made the hairs on my arms stand up. I hated being the center of attention.
"Mr.—Mr. Cooper," I stammered nervously, as I stepped up to his desk.
"Hi, you must be Nia Owens. Dean Nelson told me that you would be here," he smiled, offering me his hand to shake. Oh, Marge, always one step ahead.
I shook his outstretched hand. "Is there something I need to get started or..." I've never been the new kid before I feel so lost.
"Oh, right. You need a lab partner." He looked behind me at the rest of the class. "Marcus, can you come up here, please?"
"Yes, sir," some guy said from behind me.
Turning around, I looked to see who he was calling. Oh, God, it's Adonis. He made his way to the front of the classroom.
He stood next to me in front of Mr. Cooper's desk. I quickly wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt, just in case he tried to shake my hand. He's much taller than I thought, and bigger too. Gangly and dorky was my usual type, but I could make an exception.
Mr. Cooper introduced us. "Marcus, this is Nia. Nia, this is Marcus."
Marcus.
I think Adonis suits him better. I gave him a small smile, and he gave me a slight nod in return. I don't know why, but my breath caught in my throat when he looked at me.
"Marcus, I want you to be Nia's lab partner," Mr. Cooper told Adonis. He went on about his old partner, but I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was his new one.
"That's fine with me, Mr. Cooper," Adonis, or Marcus, said.
Mr. Cooper looked over to me. "Is that okay with you, Nia."
"That's fine," I said, but I was doing a happy dance inside.
As we were walking back to our table, everyone was staring at us. I liked to think they were looking at both of us, but I knew better. or me, anyway. Once they find out how boring I am, they'll toss me aside like old news.
"Class turn to page 205!" Mr. Cooper called out to the class. Everyone started flipping to the correct page in their textbooks, while I sat there with my backpack in my hands. All I have is a notebook and a calculator. I'm completely unprepared.
But for now, I'll just have to share with someone.
I turned to the Adonis "Hey, M--," I faltered, suddenly unable to speak as I looked at him.
"Marcus," he reminded me.
Great, he must think I'm an idiot.
"Marcus," I began again. "Could you share your textbook with me? I don't have any of my textbooks yet?"
"Oh, of course," he agreed, pushing the textbook between us.
I thanked him, before pulling a notebook and a pen from my backpack. My notebook was covered in stickers, it's sort of like a collection, flowers, movie quotes. I had nowhere to put them so I began putting them on my notebooks.
"I love that show," Marcus whispered to me.
"What?" I asked confused. He pointed to Bob's Burgers sticker on my notebook. Oh, that. "Oh, me too," I agreed. "I could watch it over and over again."
"My favorite episode is when they had to get a new Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, I've seen that episode a million times."
"Me too." He reads, and he likes Bob's Burgers—he must be sent from heaven.
"So where are you from?" he asked. I was supposed to be using this time to gauge where the rest of the class was, but Marcus had my full attention.
"Oh, I'm from Jefferson Heights, it's about forty-five minutes away." I waited for the following grimace that usually came after I tell people where I'm from.
I'm not going to lie, Jefferson Heights is a rough place to grow up. Its gang-infested, there's a report of a robbery or shooting at least once a week, and the schools are ridiculously underfunded. But that's my neighborhood, and there are a lot of great people that live there, my family and friends included.
"Why'd you transfer?"
"I got a scholarship," I said suddenly not wanting to meet his eyes, so I focused on the textbook instead.
I'm not ashamed that I got a scholarship. I'm blessed to be able to come here for free, but it still doesn't seem like something I should share. I hurried and added, "It was unexpected, I never thought I would be able to come here. What about you—have you always gone here?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice cracking a little. " Yes, I've gone here since kindergarten."
It's so strange to me that they get to spend almost their whole academic career here. It must be nice not having to get used to a completely different dynamic every few years.
"It's still so strange that all the schools are connected," I commented, "This building alone is already so big."
"This campus is huge, it's easy to get lost."
Tell me about it. "I've noticed. I've been on a tour, and Marge—I mean Dean Nelson," I have to stop calling her that. "Gave me a map, and I still don't know where I'm going."
I don't know how I'm going to make it to the rest of my classes, especially in these uncomfortable shoes.
I looked towards the front of the classroom, where Mr. Cooper was drawing a diagram on his high-tech board. He was so passionate, it made me feel bad that I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.
The teachers at my old school would just assign us a page in the textbook and that's what we would do the whole class. It's nice to have a teacher that likes their job or at least seems to.
"Um, is he always so..." What's the word I'm looking for? "Animated, during lectures?"
He looked kind of stupid spinning around in a circle up there.
"Pretty much," he responded. "You should hear his periodic table song."
"There's a song?" I asked, shocked as I continued watching Mr. Cooper's demonstration.
"Oh, yeah. It's Grammy worthy," he smirked.
"That's incredible. I have to hear it." A periodic table song. I had to memorize the periodic table the old-fashioned way; flashcards.
"I think there's a video on YouTube."
"Marcus, do you have a question?" Mr. Cooper asked stopping his presentation.
"Uh, yes, Mr. Cooper," Marcus played it off. "I wanted to know if you could go back, I didn't get a chance to write it down in my notes." Liar. He didn't even have a piece of paper out.
"Of course, Marcus, make sure you pay attention this time. Now an atom is like this..." I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles. Equally as amused, Marcus chuckled quietly as he pretended to take notes.
****
"What's your next class?" asked Marcus, slinging his black leather backpack over his shoulder.
I pulled my schedule from my pocket. Unfolding it, "Gym with a Mr. Peters."
Why couldn't this be a school without a gym class?
I'm not fast, I don't possess even the slightest amount of upper body. I like to stay on the sidelines, but not to watch, to read. "Oh, you have Coach?"
"I guess." I shrugged, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Have you had him before?"
"Yeah, he's my football coach." That explains the nice build, doesn't explain the angelic face though. "I can show you where the gym is if you want."
"Can you? I have no idea where I'm going, this place is huge," I sighed gratefully. Map or no map, I know I'd get lost without his help. Plus, I don't want to stop talking to him.
"No problem, it's on my way to class." As Marcus showed me to class, I looked around and tried to commit as much of the hallways to memory.
"Are you a big George Orwell fan," I asked as we walked down the hall. I must have caught him off guard because he didn't answer me at first. I further explained, "I saw you reading 1984 when I walked into class." It's one of the things I noticed after I finished staring at his gorgeous face.
"He's one of my favorite authors."
"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."
I was terrified that someone (the F.B.I) was going to spy on me. Not that they would see me doing anything other than dancing alone to ABBA.
"This is my sixth time reading it," he confessed.
"Wow, why so many times," I asked, interested.
He said, "It's one of my favorite books." I understand I've read Harry Potter so many times, my copy of The Sorcerer's Stone is about to fall apart.
"Nice, I practically live in Barnes and Noble," I laughed. "Well, I work there, but I still love it." I'm even there on my off days.
"Oh, which one? I go to the one in Crescent View Mall."
"That's the one!"
"Really? I've never seen you there."
"I haven't been working there very long." I only started working there a few weeks ago, but if he's there as much as he says he is I'm sure I would have seen him by now. But now that I know he goes there, I'll be on the lookout. I'll have to look my best, just in case.
We now stood outside the gym doors, and I felt the nerves in my stomach firing up all over again.
I wish I could talk to him longer. He's so interesting, and nice, and smart, and beautiful. God, he's so beautiful, and he smells good too. Like expensive cologne and soap.
"Is this it?" I asked looking through the glass doors. Everything looked state of the art, there was no busted equipment anywhere. It was intimidating.
"This is it," he said, from behind me.
I toyed with the strap of my backpack nervously. "Is it stupid that I feel nervous?"
He shook his head. "No, but you have nothing to be worried about. Coach probably won't make you do anything."
That's a relief because I didn't bring my gym clothes. "I hope not. Gym isn't really my thing," I admitted to him. I wish he was coming with me, then I wouldn't be alone.
The bell rang out loudly above us, signaling that class was going to start soon.
"I should get going," I said reluctantly backing towards the door.
"Oh, me too," he said but remained in the same spot.
"Okay, bye." I placed my hand on the door handle, but still not ready to leave.
"Bye. Have fun," he said.
I chuckled. I doubt I'll have fun, but, "I'll try."
I walked into the gym leaving Marcus in the hallway. I hope he's not late to class. He was so sweet to walk me to class, and I hope that didn't mean he was late to class himself. Before I got here, I thought all the guys were going to be conceited jerks. Good to know he's not like that.
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