The Beginning, Middle, but not the End

Day 6,152 (August 21st)

I walk into my first class, Algebra II. The first desk that appeals to me is in the last row on the other side of the room. I start to walk over there, but someone sits in it before me. The next seat that I see closer to the door in the middle of the row. I sit down and begin to rummage through my bag to find a pencil. I organized my backpack last night with all the new supplies. The pencil bag must've made its way underneath all my folders and notebooks as I walked around this morning trying to find my class.

The last bell rings to signify the start of the day. A secretary comes on the intercom and announces the start of the new year. It's strange, I'm officially a Junior. I am no longer a sophomore. The only major side effect of this year, however, is that I don't have any friends. I realized this last night before I had organized my backpack. Dante, Zelda, and Dallas aren't a part of my life anymore. I hate thinking about that. I cried for an hour last night, and organizing was my way of calming down. Instead of dwelling on the fact that I'm not friends with them anymore, I should look at the bright side of things. Now, they'll be able to fulfill their lives without having to worry about me screwing things up.

Someone rushes in the class and sits down in the seat that is diagonally across from me. I look to see who it is, and my heart stops. The dark and slightly curly hair looks tousled and wet.

"Sir, what is your name?" Our teacher asks.

He clears his throat, "Dallas."

"Dolan?"

He nods to her, "Yes, ma'am."

She sets her clipboard down, "Alright class, welcome to Algebra II. I'm Ms. Gin and I'll be your teacher for the year. Now who all in here are sophomores?" The class looks around to see those with their hands raised are sophomores. I try to join them in this observation, but I can't. My eyes stay glued to my desk. I can't believe Dallas, of all people, is in my class. I should've known that I'd be in the same class as him or at least someone else from our old friend group. "Now, where are our juniors?"

My hand slowly raises, and I try to avoid the urge to look up. The feeling of eyes piercing my soul forces me to look up. I look to Dallas, and he looks at me. The awkwardness only lasts a millisecond, and he looks away. My soul feels heavy. Does his?

"Do we have any seniors?" No one raises their hands when she asks this. Our class is mostly juniors, with maybe 10 sophomores. Ms. Gin goes over the syllabus after handing them out and introduces everyone to the subject. My heart is pounding in my chest, but I try to ignore it. Each time I look at Dallas, I remember all of our times together. I remember when he was my best friend, and I was his. My heart starts to ache. Thankfully, the bell rings and pulls me out of my thoughts. Dallas rushes out of the class before anyone else. Today isn't going to be a good day, I can feel it in my gut.