Homeroom 23

Chapter Six: A Pink Coffee Maker and a Heart-Shaped Mug

Daniel wasted no time in making sure he felt comfortable in my room. He had taken up residency on my bed while I sat in my desk chair, and was rolling around—messing up all the sheets in the process.

"Have you ever noticed that your blankets are so much softer than everyone else's? I'm jealous." He buried his head in my pillow, and began stroking his hand across my sheets.

"Alright dude, did you come here to tell me something or just test how soft my bed is?" I snapped, and he seemed to take the hint and straighten himself up.

"Sorry," he said, smoothing out his now ruffled and disheveled hair. "I just wanted to interview you because, well you know, you left early."

I tried to shrug nonchalantly, as if I didn't care about the situation at all. "Well, I didn't have anything to say, so I left." For some reason he seemed to be pretty upset by this.

"Of course you had something important to say!" He protested, "I wanted to hear your story more than any of theirs!" That definitely confused me.

"What do you mean my story? Do you think I'm hiding something?" I didn't mean to come off as so aggressive, but I just didn't understand what he was trying to say.

"Of course that's not what I mean!" He snapped, "you just...you looked like you were hiding something while we were in the Common Area—"

"Well I wasn't." I snapped too quickly, "you need to learn when enough is enough, and to mind your own business." I didn't mean to hurt him, but I could tell that he was upset by what I said, which made me upset. What right did he have to be mad at me? I was the one who had to put up with months of torment from his friends, and then he gets mad when I'm not the nicest towards him?

"It's just...I thought you would've gone to the party when I invited you." So that's what this was all about. He was upset because I ignored him at his stupid party.

"Of course I went," I scoffed, avoiding his eye contact.

"Well, why didn't you say anything to me? I would've loved to see you." He said, looking at his feet. I paused. I guess I didn't think he would care about seeing me in the slightest.

"Whatever, I think we're getting off track aren't we? Well, on the night of the party I was—"

"Melissa, don't ignore the question." He said, and I looked up at his face.

"I guess, I didn't think you would want to see me." I confessed, "you seemed pretty busy with your friends, so I didn't think you would want anything to do with me." There was a pause that seemed to last a lifetime. I was suddenly acutely aware of the peeling wallpaper in the room and all the different shades of gray coloring the walls. This is it, I thought, now he knows I'm a loser. Even though I didn't want to admit it, it was kinda nice having a "popular kid" notice me, and seem to actually like me.

"Oh," he finally said. "I'm sorry." I definitely wasn't expecting that response.

"You don't have to apologize," I quickly stuttered, "It's fine, and—for your information—I was hiding something in the Common Area. I heard when George died." I quickly spat out.

"What?" He asked.

"I left the party right after Samantha and Xavier...y'know...fell over. When I was coming back to my room I heard a scream. Like a real scream. A scared scream." He stared at me intently for a moment and mumbled to himself,

"I knew it wasn't the kid from the other homeroom." I smiled at his confidence.

"Why did you know that?"

"Just a hunch," he shrugged, but I could tell by his face that he was proud of himself. "I always trust my instinct, and so far, it's always been right."