Love, Aristotle

chapter 5

Aristotle

I looked up from my book, hearing the bell ring. A reminder that I still had class. Groaning internally, I got up and slung my bag over my shoulder, holding my book close to my chest. Smiling faintly as I thought about him. Damon was always so thoughtful, always doing random sweet things for me.

I've been talking about the book since last month, all week, every week since then and he went to buy it for me today.

I was planning on going later today to get it but he beat me to it.

"I have a math test," Lainey said, groaning audibly, interrupting my thoughts.

I laughed, "Sucks for you." She stuck out her tongue at me and we parted ways, shaking our heads in amusement.

Everyone else had already disappeared, probably talking to the football team.

I swear, every lunch, my friends and I sit by the bleachers because they wanted to watch them play—I like to think it was because of the nice weather here in California. 'Cause in my opinion, it was quite boring.

Mainly because I wasn't interested in other boys or sports. Besides, I was only interested in one thing and that's the love of my life, Damon. Well, him and books, music, and dance. So that was four things in total.

But I did enjoy the slightly cold but nice October breeze nature had to offer while I had to sit outside for an hour and a half, with my friends.

I made my way to my locker, smiling back at people who smiled at me. Unlocking my lock, I grabbed my textbook and notebook for English class and shoved them in my bag. I shut my locker, turned around and was met with... I didn't know his name but he looked familiar, I think.

"Excuse me," I said, moving away from him and shooting him an apologetic smile.

The guy, I decided to call him, only smirked. Which made me internally cringe. "Hey, I'm Andrew."

"Um okay." I pushed passed him and got lost in the crowded hallway, without looking back.

I finally made it to class and took a seat in the second last row. As soon as I took out my things, the bell rang, signalling the start of class. Sighing in relief, I grabbed a pencil and turned my attention to the front of the class as Mrs. Goodman began the lesson.

She was definitely one of my favourite teachers. Never made the class boring and always found a way to pick on students to answer her questions, somehow without bringing any stress upon us.

She was cool and calm.

Right now, she was talking about our new assignment. Poetry. My favourite thing ever.

"You will each write a poem, about anything you'd like. It'll be due next week. I expect it to be handed in accordingly. It's worth thirty percent of your grade."

I pursed my lips, in an attempt to suppress my laughter as I watched everyone's eyes widen momentarily before audible groans chorused throughout the room. But I understood. Thirty percent! I cared a lot about my grades and was somewhat beginning to stress out about this.

She gave us knowing looks and went on to re-explain the format and literary devices. Paradoxes and oxymorons piqued my interest since the day I learnt about them in fifth grade.

My mind was full of them. Each thought contradicted another, in an endless circle of thinking.

If it was possible, my thoughts created a sea and everyday I drowned. I got pulled deeper and deeper under and soon, there might not be a way back to the surface.