Needle and Thread

13

The school day pans out much how Harry expected it to when he awoke this morning.

Brandon ignores him, while Luke and Alex attempt to participate in light hearted sports talk with Harry to ease the obvious tension. It doesn't work. Brandon continues to seethe silently, scrolling through his phone with his earphones firmly plugged into his ears. He ignores all of Alex's efforts to get him to join the conversation and leaves the second the bell signalling the beginning of first period rings, stalking off without so much as a farewell glance.

"He'll come around eventually," Luke says, a kind but unnecessary offer of comfort. Harry doesn't really care when or even if Brandon will talk to him again. He already has too much else on his mind to worry about things like petty arguments and even pettier friends.

One hour of biology with Mr Lee is enough to have Harry's eyelids drooping before homework is assigned, balancing his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the pen marked desk like a poorly constructed pillar. The words on the white board blur into a fuzzy mess of letters and symbols, perhaps some numbers too, like a flurry of snowflakes across a forest of evergreen trees.

In his altered state, Harry's mind begins to wander, treading dangerous, dangerous waters. His memories take him to a darkened clearing, split into fragments by blue moonlight. It's familiar, from the twisted roots of the trees, to the shimmering surface of a creek, to the white smattering of moonflowers blooming in the darkness.

A heart beats somewhere amidst the trees and shadows, and it takes Harry a moment too long to realise that it's his, thundering like a stampede.

A hand holds his, warm and comforting, all dark skin and knobbly knuckles that melt in between Harry's fingers.

A voice whispers in his ear like the rustle of leaves. It warps and curls and distorts until it's calling his name.

Harry, Harry, Harry-

"Harry!" Mr Lee wears an unusually stern look, dark eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "It's not everyday that you meet a student who knows more than you."

"Huh?" Startled and confused, Harry jumps in his seat, a belated response considering the urgency in his teacher's voice. The girl in the seat behind him snickers into her hand.

Mr Lee crosses his arms and glares. "How else would you have enough time to take a nap during class if you didn't already know this lesson inside out?"

"Sorry, sir," He weakly apologises, cringing under the collective gaze of his entire class.

Something in Mr Lee's composure changes just then, his eyes softening considerably. He sighs loudly, all tension leaving him with the sound. "Just try to get your eight hours in, and then we won't have any more problems."

Harry nods diligently, shaking himself awake with a discreet pinch of his wrist. His vision clears well enough for the words on the board to make sense, and Harry wishes he had never made it here on time. He rubs his eyes for good measure, just to make sure that what he's seeing is real.

GROUP PROJECT, reads the board, in big and black  letters.

"As I was saying," Mr Lee says, continuing the conversation Harry had clearly missed during his impromptu nap. "The plan is to split you all into trios, have each of you set pitfall traps, note your findings, and draw comparisons with the rest of the class. It's a simple enough task, and certainly an easy one for you lot, but it doesn't always guarantee good results. See? I'm preparing you for the real world in a way."

A quiet murmur of laughter ruffles the classroom. Harry doesn't join in. Any and all mentions of the so called 'real world' always sends him spiralling into an uncontrollable bout of panic.

"Alright!" Mr Lee claps his hands together. "We've got five minutes left. Once you've been put in your group, you are free to leave!"

Shit. Harry hates group projects, no matter how many friends he has in his class. There's no guarantee that the other members will actually pull their weight, something Harry has experienced more than once and is expecting to experience again.

Mr Lee slowly but surely makes his way through the class list, grouping the names at random, meaning there is no way for to predict just how fucked he'll be. Alex, Brandon and Luke are all one after another, so there's no chance of Harry getting in with them, and any other of his acquaintances have already been put into groups of their own.

Well, not all of them. There's still-

"Mina, Jj, and Harry."

Harry should have seen this coming. If he'd had his wits about him, he would have. Trust Harry to end up in a group with his first kiss as well as his last. Is this what they call poetic justice? If so, Harry considers rethinking every positive thought he has ever had about poetry. He had liked it, too.

Mina appears before Harry, that pretty smile of hers stretched across her equally as pretty face. Before she has the chance to do anything more than smile, Jj drops into the empty seat beside him. Harry has been cornered. Deliriously, he thinks he feels Jj's hand brush against his own.

"My place or yours?" Jj asks, a question directed at both his groupmates.

And the dread returns. This won't be good.