Fated

Chapter 5

"And of course, we mustn't forget Dickens' use of varying generations to segment the characters within the novel, as Maddy so astutely pointed out earli-," Miss Taylor begins, but is rudely interrupted by the shrill rattle of the school bell.

I go to thank Maddy for letting me look at her copy of Hard Times, but she is already halfway out her seat, bag packed and coat donned. I wouldn't expect anything less; she is notorious in our English class for her amazing ideas, and her equally amazing unwillingness to share them - except with Miss Taylor. Still, she always looks as if she has more to say. I would like to know her better, if she would let me. 

Dylan however hasn't even begun packing away his belongings by the time I make my way over to his desk. Still furiously writing on a pitiable piece of paper, growing increasingly crumpled and indented with each word, Dylan physically jumps when he sees me standing over him. I mean, he actually jolted; his whole body left the seat of the chair. It's like he is in his own little world when the lessons are happening - it's the same way each day.

"Sorry Dylan. I forget how you're always in your own little world in class. I gotta admit though, it makes me laugh at the end of every lesson", I joke.

Dylan sighs and begrudgingly replies. "Yeah, yeah, it's all fun and games when it's not you who's being crept up on like some axe murderer."

"No, no, you're right. I do live in perpetual fear of the infamous English classroom axe murderers, famed for their use of impeccable grammar when attacking their victims," I say, chuckling at my own dry sense of humour.

"Ha Ha Chris, very funny. It's completely normal to jump when someone appears in front of you out of nowhere. In fact, it would be no response that would be abnormal, thank you very much".

"You tell yourself that Dylan, but can you do it while we're leaving; we're gunna be late for our next lesson."

With that, Dylan finally finishes packing away his assortment of stationary and we finally start moving towards the door. Miss Taylor looks up from her computer at the sound of movement - a normal reaction to someone appearing unexpectedly I note satisfactorily.

"Have a good rest of the day boys. Oh, Chris, do you have a moment?" she asks.

My eyes wander up to the clock and note a reading far later than what it ought to be, but Miss Taylor is one of my favourite teachers so I give her a nod regardless. "See ya Dylan," I say with a wave to my friend, already halfway through turning back around to leave. He responds with his signature farewell: a half wave.

"Well, it's about June. We are over halfway through A Levels now and she still doesn't seem to be branching out much in class. She only gives full responses if I ask her, and she doesn't really have a friend in the group."

I wonder where Miss is going with this. She's right, but what do I have to do with it? "Yeah?"

"I was just wondering if you would mind keeping an eye out for her. You know, making a bit of an effort to initiate conversation, get to know her, that sort of thing," Miss Taylor says, all in quick succession, as if she had been feeling awkward about this for a while.

I think for a moment. I had been trying to start conversation already, but that sank like a ship made of cardboard. Nevertheless, I suppose that there is no harm in continuing to fail to make conversation, especially since Miss asked and predicted grades are right around the corner. "Of course Miss; I'll make sure to be extra friendly."

"Thanks Chris. I just want everyone in the class to feel comfortable and friendly. The best learning happens that way you know."

"I'm sure Miss," I quickly respond, eager to get away to my next class before I am undeniably late. "I'll keep an eye peeled - and chopped, sautéed, whatever," I say, backing away to the classroom door. "Bye Miss, thanks for a great lesson!" I hurry out the door without looking back.