Giving Up to Him

001

"So... Mr. James?" asked Lindsay, as we walked down the hallway.

I gulped. "Yeah?"

"You like him?" she asked.

"No!" I blurted, too loud.

"Not really." I admitted.

"Well," she ventured unconvinced, and sidestepped a couple making out. "You're kinda the only one who says 'Yes Sir Mr James!'"

I blushed.

"Sir!" she repeated, in a high, supplicant voice to mock me.

"...and you look at him with - well - your mouth open." she continued.

"That - that's different." I protested, looking around for eavesdroppers. "It's just that he's tall."

"I guess he is?" agreed Lindsay.

"I can't help but get just - affected - around taller men." I breathed, trying to work a wrinkle off my shirt.

"Well they do have more - ah - presence - but what?" queried Lindsay.

"It's embarrassing," I continued "but to be honest - " I paused and glanced away.

"Yeah?" asked Lindsay, eyes glittering - as always when a secret was imminent.

Bad move, don't admit anything

"Nothing." I ejected.

"YEAH?" she demanded. "You're my best friend you know."

"I put on liner before his class." I admitted.

"Liner." repeated Lindsay. "What, haha! Like PANTY liner?"

A kid walking by turned around as he heard her.

"Shh." I said.

"I can't believe it." said Lindsay.

"Ungh, can't help it." I explained. "Should not have told you."

"I guess it would keep you dry. And what about the next class?" asked my friend.

"English class?" I gasped.

"Yeah." she returned.

"That tall jerk, you mean?!" I snapped.

"You know who I'm talking about." chivvied Lindsay.

"Do I like HIM?" I protested.

"Yeah?" continued my BFF.

"No way!" I stated flatly.

"Well." observed Lindsay, "Big Tyler is taller than that teacher. They say he's 6'10."

"Sure, he's really tall. He's... even handsome in a way. But he doesn't affect me at all." I stewed.

"You don't need 'liner' around him?" she laughed, pushing me.

I started and glanced around.

Keep your secrets to yourself next time.

"No way! And don't talk about that. He's a jerk." I tossed off.

"I had a dream about him." admitted Lindsay.

I've had dozens

"No way! Remember what he did to Kyle?" I said, trying to change topics.

"Yeah, Kyle's parents withdrew him from school. Small wonder when Tyler's punch gave the poor kid a seizure" observed Lindsay.

"I can't believe principal said they were fighting. As if anyone could "fight" against Big Tyler." I mentioned.

"And he didn't get into trouble at all." Lindsay observed.

This conversation wasn't helping my mood, since English was coming up next.

We rounded the corner and reached Mrs Goodman's classroom.

"Abandon all hope - " quipped Lindsay, and we ducked inside.

The classroom was a mix of levels, and we sat in the least-desired section, front row right by the smelly wastebasket.

"Hi guys!" said a tow-headed small girl, our partner-in-crime for English.

"Hi Krista!" called Lindsay, and we sat in the open desks next to her.

"They released the medic report on that boy who got hurt during football practice." whispered Krista to us.

"Oh yeah?" whispered Lindsay. "Edison, he was nice."

"Not anymore." whispered Krista. "His neck nerves were cut, so he'll be paralyzed."

"What. Wow. What happened anyway?" demanded Lindsay.

"The school board said it was an "after-action" play after the scrimmage. Big Tyler just twisted his head around for no reason." explained Krista.

"They weren't even playing?" I gasped.

"Fugh I knew that guy was a jerk but really." riposted Lindsay.

"Ur the one having dreams about him." I cut in.

"Really?" whispered Little Krista, darting a glance at the rear of the room, where the handsome giant sat.

"He is so - well." chimed Krista.

"Hey good news - Emmeline Pratt invited us to her birthday party." bubbled Lindsay.

"What, Emmeline?" I gushed.


"We're moving up in the world." quipped Lindsay.


"Not fair." said Krista.

"Quiet everyone" called the teacher, and class began.

"TYyyyyler!" a girl's voice bleated after a few minutes, in disharmony with the teacher. "Heehee-teeheehee"

All three of us turned around for a sec and sighed. As always, the popular students were ignoring the lecture.

"Desiree, I'd ask you to stay quiet." reproved the teacher.

"Sorry Mrs Goodman." she called.

"And now the Bronte sisters were born into a curacy -" continued the teacher.

"Tylerrr, you're too funny" fluted the nasal voice, followed by the deeper reverberation of a man's.

Lindsay and I looked at each other and shook our heads. This English class was supposed to be fun, but the less dedicated students could really be a drag, if not distracting.

To be honest I found the lower sound of the man's voice even more distracting than Desiree's bleating... it was inaudible but reverberated into me.

Making it Impossible.

To focus.

"Did you see my new earrings! Tyylerr, look! Aren't they pretty?" wheedled the popular girl.

"Alright that's quite enough." said Mrs Goodman, finally weary of the whining voice.

"Desiree, take your things and come to the front row of the class." she ordered.

"Mrs Goodman..." whined Desiree, but gathered up her bag.

"Cassy, would you please switch places with Desiree?" asked Mrs. Goodman.

I gulped.

"Oh - ok Mrs Goodman." I acquiesced.

I packed up my notebook full of drawings, meting it into the Fjallraven pack.

I walked uncertainly up the aisle to the open desk. This aisle was the left-most of the classroom.

No doubt so Tyler could sit furthest from the teacher

"Oh look, they're sending in the preschoolers" rumbled the deep voice I knew so well.

Big Tyler

*********