15 minutes of sleep can really change a person if you're comfortable enough. The bell ring me from my puddle of drool as I unconsciously grab my bag and head to my next class. I pull up my hoodie to hide my desk head while wandering the hall to burn time before Creative Arts. I end up making my way to Mr. Hurley's class after grabbing a quick glance into the history wing and accidentally making eye contact with Patrick causing instantaneous blushing and smiling. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, actually, just his goofy smile lightens my heart and puts somewhat of a skip in my step, wanting the day to be over so I can see him again.
As I enter Creative Arts, the only way I could explain it is by saying its a jungle of splattered paint floors, art pencils crammed into tight packets along with markers and crayons. There are easels push up against the back wall that is covered in younger student's hand-prints. Every freshman got to put their handprint on Mr. Hurley's " Wall of Misanthropic Loaners " and I could still see where I left mine, right on the ceiling next to Pete's, Angie's and Kristina's. The desks were not really desks they were more like wood-shop tables but completely destroyed by glitter, glue and other unidentified substances. And the smell, god to some people they would call it the best thing but to me, it smelled like the back of a farmer's market, where the fruit that went bad went and to douse the smell they tried using scented candles, and made it worse.
I take my usual seat near the front and I see Mr. Hurley pop up from behind the desk with duck taped glasses and an always dirty v-neck shirt showing off his chest that was completely designed in tattoos along with his legs and arms and essentially everywhere below the neck. His hands were multicolored for who knows what reason and his jeans were the use of a napkin; to wipe his hands. " Oh Kora, you're here already? Cool. " Mr. Hurley greeted me while trying to organize his desk. "Yeah, I wanted to come and uh....work on my thingy " I try explaining as my mind is gone out the window because of Patrick's smile appearing in my mind. " You're thingy....you mean your pottery? " He motions towards the sad sitting little pot that sure as all hell hated me.
"Yeah, that thingy" I say as I move myself towards the spinning wheel where my little bowl/pot/vase/ thingy sat. I put on the brown apron and begin to wet my hands when the rest of the class enters and starts on other projects each student was assigned. I sit and watch the small pot turn and turn as I apply pressure to the clay it begins to crumble along with my pride. " Here, Kora you need more Clay so when you make your pot it will be thicker " Mr. Hurley gets me a big clump of clay to add to my sloppy, nonliving pot. I hear the door open and I see Patrick enter with papers in his hands. I see him look at me and my heart melts like butter on hot toast. " Hey Kora hows it going? " I can see his temptation to kiss me in his eyes but as controlled and collective as he is he keeps his composure. " Hey Mr. Stump, not much just uh... trying to make this pot actually be a pot..." Patrick smiles and places the papers on the table and rolls up his sleeves " Here, start off slow...." Patrick places his hands over mine as I press down on the peddle.
The clay begins forming like it usually does but at a lot of a slower pace, making a strong and sturdier foundation to the clay's base. The body of the pot slowly takes its shape as Patrick hands press mine into the moist clay. I press my finger into the middle of the clay, adding a hole going deeper into the body and actually, finally forming a nice vase. I stop the wheel and look at the creation of what me and Patrick have created. " Wow Kora, its beautiful. " I hear Patrick say "Well I mean, you helped with it. Trust me if I did it o- "
"I wasn't talking about the pot Kora..." Patrick says in a more soft tone. I look up and See Patrick's expression go serious long enough for me to notice until Mr. Hurley come over and greet Patrick " Sorry Stump I was helping out another student, and it looks like so were you. Thank you. " Mr. Hurley smiles and leads Patrick over to his desk where the papers were put. I catch myself staring at him and hear my own thoughts roll off my tongue You sweet little man, your voice is my favorite song. My heart feels like it stops. What did I just say?
No. I didn't. I couldn't. Its too soon. No. Not yet Kora. Not yet. Stop. Don't fall too fast.
I scrape off my pot and put it where it needs to be to be...cooked I guess. I go to wash off my hands and while I do the bell rings for the end of the day. I hear the heard of footsteps exit through the door and the room is almost silence except for the hum of the air conditioning. I hang up my apron and walk out to find Patrick leaning against the corner of the desk. Mr. Hurley wasn't here either. "Hey Patrick " I say feeling my cheek burns and his smile grows as I move closer. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, folded paper and hands it to me. As I grasp the paper, he grabs my wrist and kisses me as long and as a soft as he can. He pulls away and looks at me, his grey eyes and his husky voice capture me for the moment " Go here at 6:30, dress something nice"
And with that, he kisses my hand before leaving me and my pretty decent pot.
YOU ARE READING
Mr. Stump
RandomKora has always been a good student. A good girl. Her two best friends, Angie and Kristina call her the "goody" of the group. But is Kora as good as people think when she gets involved with her history teacher, Mr. Patrick Stump?
