A close call to midnight

Finn

When I wake up the following day, everything is against me. My hair doesn't do what I want, and my school uniform suddenly looks very silly on me. 

Usually, I don't care about my appearance, but now that I know that Belle will be sitting opposite me during breakfast in a couple of minutes, I want to look the best I can. 

I take one last look in the mirror. I am not satisfied with the result, but I have no choice but to accept it because I'm already late for breakfast. I didn't put on my tie purposefully so that Belle could do it later. 

When I walk into the cafeteria, Belle is already there. She sits in her usual spot and cuts her sandwich into many pieces. I wonder why she does that.

 I quickly grab something from the buffet and sit across from her. It is not like I have any choice over where I sit during these moments because this is the fixed table layout. Disobey it, and you will be sorry—at least, that's what I have heard about it.

 Belle does not notice I am here.

"Good morning to you, too," I say, wanting to sound a bit sarcastic because she didn't acknowledge my presence. 

Belle looks up. Her hair is put up in two buns, and a few hair strands are hanging loosely over her head. Immediately as we make eye contact, I am at a loss for words. 

Her presence makes me nervous. I even notice my hands shaking—this is so unlike me. 

"Oh, HI, sorry, I didn't see you there." She says. 

"That's OK," I say with a smile. I'm just glad to be talking to her. 

"Did you do anything useful with your evening, cultural barbarian?" Belle asks.

 I am surprised when she asks something back; she is not very talkative. 

Except for when she recites poems... 

I nod at her; I sure did something useful with my evening. This moment has replayed in my mind several times already, and it has not even happened yet. I bend over so I'm closer to her. 

"April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain, winter kept us warm, covering. Earth in forgotten snow feeding a little life with dried tubers." 

I surprise myself by remembering it so well.

 I try to figure out what the expression on Belle's face means; one thing is clear: I don't know what she expected from me, but it was definitely not this. "impressive," she says. 

"I know it until: in the mountains, there you feel free. I read much of the night and go south in the winter." I add. Belle laughs. It's a very open smile. I haven't seen her do that very often.

"But still, you are and remain a cultural barbarian," she says. 

"Understandable," I say. 

"Erm, about our English project, shall we work on it this afternoon?" I ask then. 

"Yes, that's fine; maybe we can meet at 4:15 in front of the library?" Belle suggests. 

"That's your favorite place in the school, right?" She nodds at me as an answer. 

Suddenly, I realize something. "Oh, I still have this from you," and I push the red bundle from the Waste Land towards her. Belle shakes her head. 

"You can keep it, I still have a lot of them at home, and I think you like it, right?" 

Well... it is not precisely the poem that I like... But I don't say that to her. 

"No, I can't keep it; it belongs to you," I say reluctantly. 

Belle takes the book from me but she also takes something from her bag. A pen. She scribbles something in the little red book. "Not anymore." Her eyes twinkle while she hands me the poem again. 

For you, cultural barbarian.

It is written on the first page. Today's date is written above it. "

Oh.. thanks." 

"So I'll see you at 4 o'clock?" Belle asks then.

 4 o'clock? What's at 4? OH. 

"Yes, of course," I say. 

She nods and stands up. She gives me a little wave when she walks away. I look at her place; she already finished her breakfast. 

The second Belle is out of sight, I drop my head on the table and sigh loudly. Why was talking to her so difficult suddenly? 

"Though life?" Sophie asks me when she sits beside me with her plate full of food. 

I now realize I forgot to ask Belle to put on my tie. Shit. I guess I will spend the day without my tie then.

In the following lessons, I can't concentrate at all.

"And that's exactly what we've wanted to know for all these centuries, isn't it, Finn?" Mrs. Thompson looks at me.

"Erm, what?" I say. My teacher looks disappointed.

"Sorry, Miss, I wasn't listening," I add.

"Finn, you have to pay attention, OK? You are more behind on this course than your classmates, so trying your best is essential." How on earth am I supposed to concentrate when I know Belle is sitting behind me.

I can't wait for this stupid class to be over. At 3:50 p.m., I'm eagerly sitting in my chair. This grueling lesson will be over in 10 minutes. When the bell finally rings, I must restrain myself from running out of the classroom.

 To my greatest disappointment, I see that Belle does not immediately walk to the library. Of course, we said to meet at 4:15, and it's only 4:00 now. As slowly as I can I walk to the library.

I stop in front of the big doors. 

April is the cruelest month, April is the cruelest month.

I keep repeating that part of the poem over and over again in my head, like some kind of mantra.

 At 4:20 p.m. I start to feel a little impatient. Belle does not strike me as the type of person to arrive late.

At 4:30 p.m., I contemplate going back to my room. I don't think she is coming anymore. Did she just stand me up? Or did she forget? None of those options give me peace. 

Where are you, Belle?