The Love In Our Lungs

Chapter 4

Stepping out of Stella's car I stand on the sidewalk of what will be the new school I will be attending for who knows how long. I'm glad I have at least two friends in this place. One of them being Stella that had offered me a ride to school, and the other being Dylan. I can't wait for school to be over and get into Stella's car to go to the coffee shop. I'm already overwhelmed and I haven't stepped a foot inside the building. How pathetic of me. I started the day feeling confident, but when it comes to the actual situation I am preparing myself to conquer, I ditch my confidence and strength to cower in fear like a meerkat after seeing a hyena approach its territory, looking for its meal for the day.

I sigh as I watch Stella's car disappear into the ocean of vehicles and honks surrounding the streets of this busy part of the country. I calculate the number of steps I have to take to reach the open doors of the school, but my introspection is cut short as I feel something hard against my back. I turn around quickly expecting to find something or someone behind me but I am met with nothing. Once I come back to my senses I realize how fast my heart is beating, and I know it. I know that if I don't control my anxiety, this day will only get worse than what I already am expecting it to be. I see a guy with blonde hair that is so bright it could burn my already swollen eyes, and he is just a few feet away from me.

 That's when it hits me that he is what bumped into me just a few minutes ago. Trying to not bring attention to my frozen state in the middle of the sidewalk I stroll towards the school doors and am swarmed into a crowd of students trying to accomplish the same thing as I am. Which is getting into the darned school without being late? Being pushed around I stop in my tracks and wait for everyone to get in before making my way over to the concrete stairs leading the way into the institute.

When I finally enter the bell has already rung, and students are looking my way as I walk around the hall that is already full of whispers, and that is when I hear a familiar voice. I turn my head slightly to the right to find the brunette from yesterday standing leaning against the cold locker that could probably be as cold as my soul. She looks at me with a smirk, and I tense my shoulders while holding tightly onto my chest. The silence is so tense it could be slashed in half with a kitchen knife, like one of those you use to cut the onions that leave you crying with wet tears that fall onto the vegetable while you try to swallow the laceration that is still left inside your eyes.

 I try to make it as fast as possible to the office, and the only thing I hear behind me are people yelling, laughing, and whispering things that are most likely about me. My gaze is steady on the floor causing me to bump into someone. When I look up I am met with a guy a little bit taller than me. His thick eyebrows are furrowed, and I can't. I can't meet his gaze and read into what he is thinking, what he is feeling right now. Why can't I? Is it because I am already too embarrassed to say or do something? or is it because there's just something about him that intrigues me...and warms my heart? My heart. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I finally have enough courage to mumble to him

"Sorry," I move quickly out of the way and jog as fast as my baggy jeans could take me, and enter the office. I catch my breath as I enter the room that is covered in dark wooden walls that seem so cozy I could fall asleep in here. It reminds me of the fireplace my dad, and I would sit by as he taught me how to play the guitar in the middle of the night. How our neighbors would constantly show up at our house to complain because of how bad I sounded playing the instrument. Who could blame a child? My fingers were too small for the strings, and my arms were too undersized to play the keyboards of the piano, but with the right amount of time, and a lot of patience from my parents, and the neighbors that had to tolerate the horrible skills I managed to learn from what my father had taught me. He was proud, and I loved that. I loved that I made him proud because I put my entire effort as a kid to learn from him because I admire him as much as I admire my mother.