Chapter 5: "So Many, Yet So Few"

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Wednesday, October 3rd

Talking used to be an ordeal for me. Not uncommon, exactly. I talked. A lot. But it was never on purpose. Once I started I couldn't stop, and the momentum of speaking carried me as I fumbled through an interaction.

Which is another reason why I couldn't stop appreciating Connor. We talk, and I talk because I want to. I can barely remember a time before him when I talked to someone earnestly.

That time isn't right now though, as I feel a pencil poke my arm.

"Pst." Without looking up from my paper, I gently swat his hand away.

"Hey," Connor whispers, barely audible, as he pokes my arm again. I glare at him, and almost imperceptibly nod my head towards where Mr. Abdul sits watchful.

"He can't hear me, he's all the way over there," Connor says, and then pokes me again despite having my attention.

"We're in the middle of a quiz, I'm not talking to you," I reply softly, shaking him off. He groans quietly, and I wait for Mr. Abdul to notice. He doesn't.

"I already finished, so it doesn't matter," he complains. Smiley faces find themselves doodled on the edge of my paper, and I can't find it in myself to erase them. Even with the self-satisfied look Connor is giving me.

"I haven't," I say. I pointedly stare at my paper, hoping he gets the hint. I know he does. He just ignores it.

"Okay, well, we aren't cheating so it doesn't matter," he points out, and I sigh.

"It looks like we are."

"Psh," he scoffs, and I raise a brow. That's his defense? Psh?

"'Psh'?" I ask, and he stifles a laugh. He doesn't succeed, however, as Mr. Abdul clears his throat.

"Mr. Hansen and Mr. Murphy, we are taking a quiz. I know you aren't cheating, but please keep quiet," he says, watching us. He doesn't look mad. More curious.

"Sorry Mr. Abdul," I say, face heating up as I look back down at my paper, ignoring the stares I feel.

"Sorry," Connor echoes. I don't look up until the bell rings and we file out of the classroom. Connor sidles up next to me, and I stare at him exasperatedly.

"What?" he asks, and I roll my eyes, tilting my head to hide the developing grin.

"I told you not to talk during a quiz," I remind him, and he crosses his arms, unimpressed. I start walking faster, but he laughs and jogs in line with me.

"Okay, but I had a joke I wanted to tell you. And if I didn't say it then, then I would forget it. And I did forget it," he says, and I just keep walking.

I don't give him the satisfaction of laughing, even though I want to. I know he'll text me at some ungodly hour when he remembers what he wanted to say.

"Mr. Abdul is going to move our desks any day now," I say, changing the subject. Connor nods in agreement.

"I'm surprised he hasn't already. You never shut up," he teases, raising his voice as the ones around us get louder.

"Excuse me, you're the one who's always talking," I fire back. It was weird getting used to playful teasing that I was supposed to participate in. I was so used to just taking everything as it came.

"Not true!" Connor gasps, holding a hand to his heart like I said something deeply offensive.

"Which one of us was the one talking during a quiz?" I ask, and he shoulder-checks me, light enough that I don't stumble.

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