The nurse inspects me for the third time, just to verify that I am fine and that I can leave. The coughing and blood has stopped now which is pleasant for me and no one called an ambulance or my mum which is brilliant. The bell rings and I look with wide impatient eyes at the nurse for approval to leave. I hate the strong smell of porridge and disinfectant in her room, it smells like the hospital and I don’t want memories surfacing from the hospital; it was bad enough experiencing it once. The nurse nods and I leap up, bag on shoulder and leave the room swiftly.
I check my schedule to find the lesson I have. Being ill I have a pass to be late to any lesson I want and sometimes miss ones I don't like. I don't have to do physical education but I still keep fit on my own time. I find the day and period on my schedule to find my lesson, I work out that I have German. I sigh a little but pick my head up, slip my schedule into my book and head off down the hall.
Unfortunately for me my German lesson is on the other side of the school in the languages block. I am currently in the English block; wonderful for me. It is warm outside and as I walk I stare at everything as I go by: the trees, the birds, the people. Others are walking to lessons late and I wonder why. None of their excuses are the same as mine.
I pull my late pass out from my pocket and enter the room. Luckily my German group is small so when I walk in there aren’t thirty people turning to stare blankly at me, but people do turn to stare at me blankly. And within those people I notice the boy from homeroom sat on his own, his eyes meet mine and then the connection is gone as the teacher coughs and I am pulled away. I hand the teacher my pass and take my normal seat, which just happens to be next to the boy. Why would the teacher do this?
I slip my book out from my bag and focus on the front of the class as the teacher speaks some fluent German that I don’t understand one bit. I’m failing German and I know that, I haven’t tried to be good at it because why would I need it when I won’t have chance to use it? There is no point. But I attend this lesson because the teacher is nice and lets me slack anyway.
The teacher, whose name I haven’t bothered to learn, gives us a reading task to do from the text books while she sorts out a student problem that was brought to her attention earlier, more like a coffee break. I turn to the boy next to me, “My name is Dee.” I say to him as he turns to me and then I add, “I’m sorry about coughing up blood near you earlier.” It is apologetic and I see immediately that he doesn’t need me to apologise.
“You don’t need to apologise.” The boy says with a polite smile. We don’t say anymore, there is silence and we don’t do anything about it. Who would? I begin to observe him; his eyes are grey with flecks of green, which is a pretty rare type of eye colour I guess. My eyes are green with flecks of grey; it must be a big coincidence that they are reverse of each other. His nose is a good size, not too big and not too small. I hate big noses because they just stick out and divert away from eyes and lips, have you ever tried kissing someone with a big nose? It is super hard to enjoy. The boy’s lips are pretty thin, same as mine, and only a bit darker than his skin tone.
I stare at him. “Where’d you move from?” I ask in a intrigued tone; just a bit of light conversation to get rid of the awkward silence. I don’t want to do the work and neither does he...I guess.
“We have work to do.” He diverts meaning that he doesn’t want to discuss his old life so he wants to start a new, just like me. Someone who doesn’t ask questions is someone that I need in my life. “What?”
I tilt my head slightly, “You are different.” The boy nods just as the teacher walks back in and the conversation ends when he picks up his pen and begins writing away frantically. The boy doesn’t want to get into trouble and I kind of understand. But I don’t understand fully because I don’t get into trouble for not doing the work.
Shrugging, I begin to write as well and seem to understand the task moderately. French is the language of love so what is German that language of? German is the language of angry men to me.
The bell sounds loudly and the teacher tells us to leave. I hadn’t checked the time before I came here but I must have been in the nurse’s office longer than I had actually calculated. When I checked my schedule earlier I made sure I knew what I had second which is biology.
Biology is alright for me, I like it and find that out of all of my lessons I like Biology the most. Currently we are doing about genetics which is super interesting. We did about illnesses earlier on in the year and my Biology teacher, Miss. Hopewell, used me as an example half of the time. I hated it and she knew that but that teacher is out to get me, I swear.
The class is almost empty when I arrive which is normal, most have Physical Education before this and that is quite far away from the Science block. Our school has different blocks for different subjects and there are two floors to most of the school, some of the blocks are linked by doors but others are isolated entirely. The Science block is below the Design block and both are pretty big because there is more than one subject to each of those blocks.
I take Biology and Physics from Science, even though I hate Physics I had to take two Sciences and couldn’t take Chemistry because of the chemicals that the school uses. But I got to take Tech-Tiles which is an awesome lesson. Along with those I take, advanced Maths, American History and English Literature. The rest is free periods which I spend at home or in Study Hall.
Susana stops me before I can get to my seat and smiles widely at me. “You were chatting with that new guy in German.” I totally forgot that Susana was in my German lessons. I forgot because she doesn’t speak to me or anyone in fact, she does all the work and makes notes all lesson. Actually, I use her book for notes before tests and don’t fail too bad on them.
“Yeah, so?” She takes her seat and I take mine, when is on the row next to hers. We speak over the people that pass down the aisle about the new guy.
Susana loves to gossip. “So, what’s his name?” I realize that he didn’t tell me his name but I told him mine. That’s pretty peculiar to be honest. And Mr. Mathers didn’t tell his name to the class either, peculiar definitely.
I shake my head and she returns with a confused kind of look in her eyes. “He is super quiet and reserved.” I explain to Susana just as the boy himself walks into the room. “And he has all the same lessons as me.” Susana smirks at my comment and is pulled away from our conversation to talk to another girl sat near her.
The boy says something to the teacher and the teacher replies. I wish I could read lips because maybe he is telling her his name and not to tell anyone? It is possible. He finishes speaking and then teacher says something in reply, which sends him to the empty seat next to me.
“She hates me.” I say to him as he sits down to the desk. I am given a peculiar look in return and explain easily, “She sent you to sit with me when she knows I don’t like anyone sat next to me. Same in German actually.” The boy clears his throat and nods, going to stand up. “Where are you going?” I ask quickly before he can move one more step.
“You don’t want anyone sitting near you. I’ll move.” I stare at him blankly. “I chose to sit next to you.” I sigh and bite my lip, he doesn’t move and I know he just wants to sit back down next to me so I nod and he smiles, sitting back in the seat happily.
I turn to him, “I hope you are happy.”
“I sure am.”