Kimberley's POV
I keep thinking about her. This really isn't healthy. I need to get out. I need to do something... something "constructive". ANY, something. Something that will get me so busy, that I have no time to think about her, no time
to imagine her smile for me... or look at me... But what? ... what?
"..."
"Misss Blaaaaa... Ms Bl... Kimberley!"
"Hmm...?" Suddenly I'm aware again. Aware of reality. And that reality has at least two dozen blurry faces looking my
way. God. What was the question?
"...I asked you a question, Kimberley?" Silence. "I... Um... I -"
"RING!!"
Never has the term 'saved by the bell' been more accurately timed.
Exhale.
Back to the sounds of scuffling students picking up their things and shoving them away into bags. Mindless chatter
echoing in the room as it empties, shoes scratching the floor... silence. What is wrong with me?!
"...Ms. Walsh?" Another awkward moment. I must look like a dear caught in the headlights. "...yes?" I look up at her.
For some reason Ms. Coyle's eyes seem so piercing and so blue, today. She's a beautiful woman by any standards. A
lot of the boys have crushes on her, so I've heard. It would be so easy to avert my infatuations on you, Ms Coyle... But
you're not HER... I sigh.
She's still looking at me with her big blue eyes. She looks concerned. I look down again quickly and start to gather up my things.
"Is everything alright, Kimberley?"
I wince a little,"Of course... I'm just a little tired... sorry." She smiles slightly. She really is quite beautiful... "Well, try
to be more alert in the future. You're in the top of the class, but that's no reason for you to not pay attention." My eyes dropped to the floor as I bit my lip. "Sorry, Ms. Coyle."
I'm in a daze again. I don't even know what happened between the conversation between Ms. Coyle and I and me
ending up at my locker somehow. Sigh. My locker must be some sort of meeting place.
It always seems to be 'occupied' by a horde of silly boys who kick and bounce around balls to one another in their free time, and actually enjoy kicking around said ball for "sports" as well. I really don't understand the fascination with this pastime. But, for some reason, they've decided to make my locker, their "home base" for the day, again.
Sigh. Another long day. At least there's break time. At least I can have that to myself.
