She had left just as she came in. Unnoticed. I looked down for thirty seconds and she was gone. Curiosity grew inside me but other than that I didn't think twice about it. I'm not going to lie, she wasn't on my mind the whole day. I just kind of thought she was another girl who did whatever she needed to stay away from the crowd and not blend in. I was wrong, she blended in remarkably well. And for a small town school, I was somewhat impressed that I didn't see her once until school was over. It was like she disappeared.
Lunch time is usually the worst part of the day. As a teenage American that probably sounds odd. But I truly think it is the worst. Its filled with other teenage Americans hunting you down for leftover food, and as a guy who doesn't generally bring lunch to school, its not enjoyable.
I made my way around the school. Nodding at a few people and feeling particularly John Bender with my hands slung in my pants and and my hair slightly falling in my face. The only thing I needed now was a bag full of weed and fingerless gloves. Im not a fan of either. Weed slows me down too much and fingerless gloves are painfully ironic. What do they accomplish? Gloves are supposed to keep your hands warm. They can't do that when there are holes in them.
I made myself walk around the school again today. It gives my body a sense of peace while my internal monologue is constantly screaming. Can't have one without the other, I guess.
I walked around the school slowly, nodded ever so slightly at people I sort of knew, but didn't know well enough to stop and have a conversation with. As I walked I took notice to the small clicking noise my shoes make when I walk. I wonder if anyone else can hear them. If it bothers people as much as it does me now. I stopped for a minute, pausing the sound and pausing my breathing. There's not much going on in the halls today. A few rowdy groups. That one awkward couple in the corner, making out or feeding each other or some gross couple thing that they definitely should not be doing in a high school hallway.
The bell rings. I realize I've been standing in the same spot for over 15 minutes and my lunch is over. I resume the clicking noise and find my way up to the next floor. Shuffling my way to my next class. Environmental studies. Remarkably boring, remarkably easy to pass. Our teacher, clearly not knowing shit about environmental studies, never once thought it would be a good idea to make an outline for this year, so we just read from the textbook or play hangman on the desk.
I took my seat next to Jack Armstrong. We don't talk, and that's how our friendship works. He's really quiet. I'm pretty sure he's also a drug addict. If he's not, he hangs out with drug addicts. Now that I think about it, I doubt he thinks of me as a friend. I have to assume he does, because if I don't, and he does, then I look like the asshole, however I doubt he thinks that much into it.
I glance over at him.
"Jack?"
He looks at me oddly, or maybe thats just his normal facial expression when talking to a new person.
"Yes?"
"You wouldn't happen to have any fingerless gloves, would you?" If he wasn't looking at me oddly before he definitely is now.
"No, why?"
"I'm feeling pretty John Bender today but I'm missing the gloves."
"I don't have the gloves, but if you need the weed." He responded. So he may not necessarily be an addict, but he is a dealer. I think about it for a moment.
"Not today, maybe some day though Jack." I turn my head and notice Carla Scarofski staring at me. I know she has a bad reputation for turning people in to Mr. Chaplin, our principal and all around unpleasant person, so I flash her a big smile and carry on with the class. She's pissed off at this and I feel a sense of pride in knowing I was at fault for it. She's hated me for a while so who knows what'll happen.
