Not What It Seems

Chapter 2

Cramming my last few notes into my notebook, the bell for lunch rang. I wasn't too excited for lunch because I didn't want to press against many other students just for a lousy cheeseburger.

Zipping up my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and made way for the door of the classroom, hoping to get to the cafeteria before everyone else started filling in.

"Miss Miena."

I turned around to face the voice that called me: my Algebra teacher, Mr. Colohan.

He wore a pink-ish-colored t-shirt that read "Welcome Back!" written in big, bold letters. His khaki pants had some grease stains on them from years of wearing while eating. His once thick black hair now looks like thin strands of salt and pepper, leaving a space on top of his scalp empty.

"Yes, Mr. Colohan," I asked, just wanting to leave already.

"I noticed you were lookin' a bit down earlier in class today. You doin' alright, kiddo?" He took a few steps toward me, sticking his right hand in his pocket and bringing his left hand up to rub his chin. He looked like he was trying to become some mad scientist who had yet to find the answer to a difficult question.

"Yeah," I started, "I'm doing just as good as everyone else here, which isn't saying much, but eh."

I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my shoes. They became fascinating to look at all of a sudden.

I heard Mr. Colohan sigh, and the squeak and groan of his old desk chair gave it away that he had sat down, giving up on this conversation. Mr. Colohan was one of the few teachers in this school who noticed the behavior changes in his students, whether it be good or bad. I give props to him for trying, but today was just one of those days—a day where even I don't know what is going on with me.

I silently slipped out of the classroom. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time; it's only been a few minutes since the bell rang. I might have to stand in a long line and change the lunch items I wanted, but at least I'd still have time to talk to my friends.

When I finally sat down at a long, rectangular bench outside where all my friends were seated, I noticed King had shown up, but still no Crystal. She was probably sick or something today.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Don," King said, chugging his milk. "Thought you were gonna ditch and go home."

"Nah," I replied, opening up the foil to a spicy chicken sandwich. "I would have, but I actually enjoy ya'lls company so, here I am."

I bit into the sandwich. The bread was dry, and the chicken tasted like plastic. I tried to wash it down with water. The taste of the chicken still lingered on my tongue.

I took another bite.

"So," I managed to say through bites. "Crystal still isn't here. Thought she would be here by now. Didn't think she was the type to skip or miss out on school."

"She isn't," Josephine whispered as she stuffed her face full of carrots. "Typically, she'd be the first one here, and she would scold us if we were late or missed a day. I texted her this morning asking if she was gonna come because we planned on going on a date right after school, but I got no response back."

I sat in shock for a moment, forgetting  Joss and Crystal were dating. They keep their relationship on the down-low that it's sometimes hard to tell they're even close. It's difficult for me to tell if they're being genuine or trying to see how long they could last before someone realizes they were lying.

"Wonder what she's up to right now," pipped in King. He had been trying to convince Maty to give him his milk, not really aware of the conversation until that moment. "Think she's screwing?"

"King," Joss hissed. She leaned over the table and smacked him square in the head. "What the fuck is wrong with you? That's my girlfriend, you jackass."

King recoiled and rubbed the side of his head meekly. He pouted and tried to use his puppy dog face on Joss, who was not having it. Her face was flushed red with anger, and her once stoic face showed nothing but a slight scowl.

Guess she really does have romantic feelings for Crystal.

"King, why did you say that to her?"

"Oh, come on! Not you too, Xavier."

Xavier had his arms sprawled out in front of him as he stared at King. He shook his head and turned toward Joss.

"Please don't take this out on us, Jossy," Xavier said.

Josephine looked at him and rolled her eyes. "As long as you never call me that again, I'll take it into consideration."

Xavier let out a hoot of joy and sprung up from the table, surprising poor Nash, who was sitting right next to him. She dropped her grape.

Xavier immediately started to apologize to her and promised to buy her a whole new bag of them. Nash laughed and told him it was fine. It was only one grape, after all.

Xavier was having none of it and pulled her close to him, "I already promised, now I gotta make it happen, my dear."

He kissed her on the lips softly, pulling back slowly. Nash giggled like a love-sick girl. I gagged in my mouth.

Soon enough, the bell rang.

We all collected our stuff slowly and began to make our way to our respective classes. Silver had not been with us at lunch, so I met up with her right outside our sixth class of the day, AP U.S. History.

"Where were you, Sil," I questioned as we walked into the classroom.

"Oh, Mrs. Shelly wanted to talk to me about my art portfolio. Wanted to make sure I had everything I needed and to see if it was coming together smoothly."

Mrs. Shelly was the school's best AP Art teacher. She would let you use your phone or computer in her class as long as you weren't disturbing the others. She would help you with anything you needed, and she would give some of the best advice around.

"Oh shit, I forgot you were putting that together." I sat down at my desk, pulling out my pencil case and notebook. "How is that going? Haven't heard you talk about it in a while."

Sil had made her seat sitting on the left corner of my desk, her back faced the front of the class.

"It's going pretty good, but I've had an art block recently. The theme I'm doing is despair, yet I can't really find anything that matches it, you know? I don't wanna do your typical, 'Oh no! I'm such a sad person. I am going to fall into such deep despair.'"

She wiggled her arms out to make her point.

She sighed and looked down at her hands.

"I just," she started, "I just don't know what to do."

"Torture," I blurted out, not thinking.

Sil swiveled her head so fast to look at me; I thought her neck was going to break. Her bright, brown eyes gleamed at me. Her face flushed with many different emotions: sadness, confusion, shock, but most of all, happiness.

"You're a genius, Don!" She leaped up from her so-called seat and spun in a small circle. "How could I have not seen it before? Such a thing can cause tremendous amounts of pain and agony that despair is the only feeling you have left! Gosh, I love you, Don.

"Although," she said, rubbing her index finger on her chin. "I don't really know what kind of expression one would showcase when in that type of situation."

I shrugged and lazily said, "Get a model. Try to get them so into the character and setting that they almost start to feel despair for real."

Sil squeaked with joy and bent down to give me a quick hug before rushing to her seat. I turned to look at her. She sat a few rows behind me, allowing her to get a good view of almost everyone in the classroom. She had taken out her notebook that had "ART IDEAS" sprawled across the cover.

I chuckled softly before turning back around. Mr. Ackmen, the APUSH teacher, had walked in.

God, was that woman crazy. Artistic, for sure, but definitely crazy.