My Answer is You

6. Class of the Elites

I walked pass a locker and finally stood in front of the door that had a big sign above it that read in bold "C4".

Inhale.

Exhale.

I looked down at my material for the class and then the thoughts kept repeating in my head:

Am I really qualified for this class?

Am I deserving of this class?

Am I gonna do well in here?

Am I gonna make friends?

Am I gonna be okay?

I shuddered, but I didn't know why. It just happened I guess. Then I proceeded to open the door and a cool, powerful breeze whooshed past me. Woah, I almost said out loud. I was amazed. I just couldn't shake off this heavy feeling, though. I felt a little weak--I couldn't bring myself to take another step into the classroom. But I knew I was put in this classroom for a reason. I knew I belonged here. And now I know that I wasn't put here for no reason, I am worthy.

Worthy?

Being worthy of something feels nice. 

It makes me feel I am wanted. 

It makes me feel I am needed.

I took a step into the classroom. Then another, and another until I was standing right beside the wide, wooden desk of the teacher. My eyes darted across the classroom, catching glimpses of the many intimidating, yet calm faces. Some faces seemed extremely focused, as if they were observing an intriguing specimen--the specimen being me, of course.

I quickly spun around and my eyes met the teacher's. The female teacher remained seated as her long, pale left leg sat over her right one. She stared at me expectantly and gestured with her long, pale fingers for me to introduce myself to the class. I turned around to face the class and drew in a deep breath.

"H-hi," I mumbled. When I looked up, I noticed that everybody was staring at me, like they were expecting more from me. I fiddled with my fingers nervously, then I cleared my throat and spoke louder, "Hi, m-my name is Pamela Jamison. Nice to m-meet you." I bet a looked like a baby who's tears threatened to spill. I expected a lot of weird glances to be passed around the classroom like a hot potato, but no. None of that happened.

Instead, smiles rose on most of the students' faces. Some adjusted their glasses then nodded their heads at me. It was as if they were all approving of me. The teacher stood up and she spoke in a stern, yet calm voice, "Thank you, Pamela. Welcome to our classroom. You may sit over there next to Lisa."

There, behind the two rows of desks, and was placed in the middle, was a seated girl with long, sleek, brown hair and hazel eyes. She waved her hand for me to come over. I sat in the empty, cold seat next to her and then she turned her head to me with a bright smile plastered on her face.

"Hiya! My name is Lisa Conwell. Nice to meet you!" She beamed at me.

I wasn't used to greetings like this, so I didn't know what exactly to do in return. But then I figured it would be nice if I gave her a smile instead of words. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

Even though my lips were slightly trembling, I tried to raise the corners of my mouth. My sad attempt of a smile made me look like I just ate a dog.

I noticed Lisa's face slightly twitch, and I already knew I wasn't doing a good job interacting with another human being. So instead, I tried to let some words roll off my tongue.

"Ah-uh-" I stuttered. "...nice to meet you...too?" I tried. I can't believe I'm not even able to talk to other people normally. Its so weird, and it hurts when others think I'm weird, too.

But for some reason, this girl didn't look at me weird or even treat me like nothing, like I'm not even there. Instead, she just kept smiling at me and then said, "Hope we get to know each other better!" She grinned.

I felt my face get somewhat warm, and my scalp tingled a little. This girl was a total stranger to me, yet she treated me so nicely.

Why? I wondered.

Whatever. At least I'm not being treated like shit for the first time in my life.

The teacher turned to the class and introduced herself, "Welcome, students of Greenwood High. My name is Mary Lennard, please call me Miss Lennard, and I will be your English Language Arts teacher. But in this class, we're going to take things to the next level. This year, I'm going to make geniuses out of all of you," Ms. Lennard proudly stated.

Immediately, this caught my interest. I was tired of all the lousy classes I had to attend today. And most of the students weren't even into the subject. They were all either on their phones, gossiping with each other, eating, trashing the class, etc. But here I am now with people that are just like me, with people that care about their grades as much as I do.

And the best part about it all is that Kendra isn't even here.

Suddenly there was a slow knock on the door, and then the door opened.

"Oh, there you are! You arrived just on time," Ms. Lennard was addressing someone, but nobody knew who.

And finally, the person at the door stepped into the classroom and stood by the teacher's desk--just as I had done before.

It was--

Mack?

Wait...

WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?!

Oh no. Now I have a distraction.

As soon as he smiled, my face heated up immensely and I averted my eyes. He then introduced himself to the class, "Hello, everyone. My name is Mack Crawley, and I'm happy to be here with you all," he politely announced. Both of his hands were in his pockets while his backpack hung on one shoulder.

Everyone's eyes were on him. When Mack finished talking, everybody including the teacher made him feel welcomed. 

But what really shook me was that while everyone was focused on him, he was looking at me.

And only me.

My face felt even hotter--I pretty much guessed that my face was beet red, so I just buried my face in my hands as questions raced in my head.

Why was he looking at me?

Why did he smile at me?

Why would he do that?

Does he like me?

No, I'm just getting ahead of myself here.

He doesn't like me. There's no way.

No way.

Ms. Lennard guided him to his seat--which was the seat in front of me. This will be an interesting year, I thought to myself. I predicted that I would most likely fail everything because of Mack. Who would want to focus on themself when their crush is right in the same class as them? Its just impossible for me!

Am I retarded?

Probably.

All I know is my hopes and dreams of passing this year flawlessly is going to be crushed.

But...

that is unless I don't take this class seriously.

When I heavily exhaled, Lisa turned her head to me and tilted her head in concern, "Hey, you okay?"

I got startled by her sudden question. Was she a mind reader or something? I wondered to myself. I turned my head and struggled to speak, "Uh--uhm...y-yeah. I'm fine." I stopped at that, but then realized that it probably wasn't enough, so I added the words, "T-thanks...for asking?" I kinda sounded like I was questioning her, so I didn't think she'd be convinced by my response.

"No problem!" she spoke cheerfully. "Just wanted to make sure you're alright."

Seriously, though. Who is this girl?

An angel sent from God?

At least thats what I was hoping.