The Neverland Project ✎

━━ five

"I fucking hate winter," Amelia grumbled as she stomped her feet on the floor of the school and walked. Behind us was a trail of melted snow and we waved our heads from side to side, trying to shake loose the snowflakes that had landed in our hair. I nodded my agreement with her sentiment. I had underestimated just how cold it would be this morning and had dressed in tights and a skirt. The cold seemed to have seeped its way into my bones, chilling me from the inside. 

I shuddered involuntarily when I touched the cool metal of my lock. My fingers were going numb, and I struggled to open my locker. There were still people entering the school, letting in more cold air. I had only worn a light jacket over my sweater today that I elected to keep on keeping out the cold. 

Amelia wasn't faring with the weather much better. The holes in her jeans were revealing most of her bare legs and she'd chosen to wear a black lace blouse. She wrapped her arms around herself, muttering complaints under her breath. I was only half paying attention to her. I preoccupied my mind knowing that I'd forgotten my history textbook at home. 

I cursed under my breath, sensing my impending doom. Today was already off to a horrible start, and it had barely started. The buzzing of anxiety that had become a constant companion only grew louder as I made the trek down the hallway towards my math class. The sounds of conversations all around me added to the overwhelming noise and my ears were ringing as I sat down at my desk.

I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through Instagram just to pass the time as I awaited my teacher's arrival. My feed consisted of the heavily filtered pictures posted by girls at my school and the darker, edgier images posted by Amelia and her circle of friends whose outfits always looked intentionally dishevelled.  

I was looking at images of clothing on Pinterest, gathering inspiration for my own upcoming thrift store trip with Amelia when my teacher entered the room. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and drops of coffee on his shirt. He smiled at the class with an emptiness to his eyes. Twenty-six blank faces stared back at him as he set his coffee mug down on his desk and began scrawling numbers onto the blackboard. 

I caught a glimpse at the notebook of the boy sitting next to me when I reached into my bag to grab my own math notes. It looked like he was doodling something, but I couldn't tell what it was. He looked over at that moment and caught me looking at him. Shooting me a tentative smile he lifted up the book, positioning it so I could see the page. He had been doodling a pair of frogs sitting on a lilypad with some darkness swirling underneath them. I liked the drawing and gave him a friendly thumbs up before turning back to my notetaking. 

About ten minutes had passed when I felt a tap on my arm. I looked over and saw the notebook facing me again, only this time the drawing was of me, slumped over my notebook. The drawing was very well done, it definitely looked like me. He'd gotten the proportions of my nose and everything right. I gave him another thumbs up along with a smile which he returned. The whole encounter was innocently sweet and the smile lingered on my face as I continued to scribble down formulas and copy examples into the pages of my spiral notebook. 

As I worked I stole glances at the doodling boy who'd eyes were squinted in careful concentration. His back was hunched over the page as he moved pencil across the paper and smudged the lead marks with his finger. His hair fell in his face as he drew and he had to keep pushing it back only for it to fall again. I pulled my own curtain bangs behind my ears, mimicking his movements. His eyes remained looking down at his paper as the teacher droned on about quadratic relations. 

The classroom was warm and I soon found myself removing my cardigan leaving me in just a t-shirt. As I sat there working time moved slowly, letting me focus on the moments I had here without being panicked by it slipping away. Not that it was slipping away from me. It was being taken.