All This and $10 on 2

In The Beginning

A rainy Monday morning started off the second full week of school; the rain brought a chill that foreshadowed the chill of the coming months. Even though I hated school, I still managed to arrive about an hour before classes started. At least this year was my senior year and next year I’d be able to pick which classes I took instead of having the same drivel shoved down my throat for the last four years.

I was sitting in Homeroom with my best friend Austin and a few of our friends, talking about the weekend and catching up on homework. The Homeroom monitor, Dr. Saudter, looked up from a stack of chemistry papers he was grading to his white board which was still blank. Dr. Saudter was a short man with a slight build, a squeaky voice, thick glasses, salt-and-pepper hair and a monumental beard that made the lower half of his head nearly twice as large as the top half.

“No doodles or words of wisdom for us today, Brandon? I cleaned it special just for you!”

Despite the fact that I never been in his class outside of Homeroom, Dr. Saudter is my favorite teacher by far. I *love* drawing on white boards. I’ll write something funny, add a silly doodle or any random nonsense that will pop into my head whenever I am confronted with an inviting expanse of blank space. I even have two recurring characters: Emo Kid, a stick-man bent over an orange microphone and Probi-wan Kenobi the talking beta fish. Their first appearance on the white board happened one morning when I had the song ‘You’re Not Alone’ by Saosin stuck in my head. I wrote down the chorus: “You’re not alone, there is more to this I know. You can make it out. You will live to tell.” Then, I had a flash of inspiration and drew the stick-man in the likeness of the band’s lead singer above it and named him ‘Emo-Kid’. As I was putting the lid on the orange marker, I got another flash of inspiration and drew Probi-Wan with a thought bubble saying, ‘Cheer up, Emo Kid.’ Probi-Wan Kenobi is based on Austin’s pet beta fish of the same name.

The rain must have clouded my creativity because my mind was as blank as the board that was waiting for me. I was momentarily distracted by the wet-boot squeak-squeak of someone walking down the hallway. It wasn't a cadence that I recognized, so I dismissed it and returned to the board. In that instant, however, the approaching squeaking boots caused a spark of inspiration and I suddenly found myself in front of the board holding a marker and was busily scribbling away a poem that had sprung from the steady rhythm becoming louder as the boot-wearer came ever-closer.

You will never know

How much I love to see your smiling face

You will never know

How I long to hear your musical laugh

You will never know

How I yearn to feel the touch of your skin

You will never know

How I wish to taste your kiss

You will never know

How my heart jumps when I smell your sweet perfume

It breaks my heart to know

How much you'll never know

But not as much as

It breaks my heart to know

That you don't exist

Only in my dreams

My angel in the mist

I finished the impromptu poem as the boot-wearer entered the room. Dr. Saudter and the handful of students watching me were very complimentary and suggested I show the poem to the English teacher, Ms. Thrash, for possible publication in either the school’s newspaper or the quarterly collection of poems and short stories the Advanced Placement, or AP, class puts out. I bashfully turned away from the group which, to my horror, was growing rapidly. I returned to my seat to try to hide when the squeaking started again, reminding me about their arrival in the room. I scanned the room and found the boot-wearer; it was a girl who was more bundled against the chill than anyone else in the room: The hood of her jacket was still up, she was wearing a funky knit scarf, boots and a sweater under the jacket. Conversely, I was less bundled than everyone else, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans and, embarrassment aside, I was starting to get too warm for comfort.