FEEL

22. Proluctance

Proluctance ~ the paradoxical urge to avoid doing something you've been looking forward to.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

Mr Pierce called me to his office on Monday morning. He did it during English class, making all heads turn in my direction. He said to meet him during lunch. Made it sound so monotone that I couldn't figure out whether it was for a good reason or a bad one.

Before the lunch bell struck, I needed Mr Dawson to print out some revision sheets for me, explaining to him why I couldn't use my phone with the least amount of detail as possible.

“I gave it to my dad,” I had said, “he needed it more, but it means that I can't research anything if I don't understand it.”

Thankfully, he asked no further questions. We left five minutes before the bell went, after he instructed the class to dismiss themselves if he wasn't back by the time the bell rings and for one of the girls, Riley, to lock up for him and bring the keys to him in the printing room.

While the pages printed, Mr Dawson asked, “So, what was it that you and Mr Pierce had to talk about so urgently?”

A familiar pressure rose, the one that came before telling a lie. I was careful with my choice of words, aware that I didn't necessarily have to lie, just ommit the truth or tell half of it. “He asked about my skirt.”

Mr Dawson gives me a painstaking once-over. “Ahh, I see. Dress code?”

“Yeah.”

“Common in young women like you. I'm assuming you wore it to impress a boy you liked?”

I shake my head. Why does everyone keep assuming that? In truth, I don't really know what the dress code is, but I sincerely hope that I'm not going against it.

“You don't have to be shy about it. It's quite normal. At that age, your libido is at its prime, you might find yourself getting a little...what is you and your peers say? Boy crazy.”

He grins my way. The bell rings, and a part of me wants to ditch the whole thing and forget about the worksheets. I can't do that, though. Senior year would beat me black and blue if I miss out on opportunities and privileges like this. Mr Dawson is being so kind, going out of his way to do this for me.

It takes about ten more minutes before everything is done being printed. I take them from him and smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else and I'll be happy to help out.”

I nod gratefully before dismissing myself to Mr Pierce's office. I tap my knuckles twice on the door.

“You can come in, Aquila.”

My heart does a summersault. Of course, he knew that I was coming because he told me to, but he couldn't possibly have known that I was the one knocking right now. It could have been someone else. I delude myself with the idea that he felt me approach, felt it in the way his hair stood tall at the back of his neck and his heart delayed a beat when I crossed his mind.