Voices Off Camera

eight - plateau

Due to my confusing encounter with Lanie yesterday, this Wednesday I would try my hardest to impress her as a method of redeeming myself from any possible harm that I had done to the situation. Perhaps the fact that I'd told Jess had lessened the amount of trust she had for me. I did not understand, however, what could be so bad about it as the outcome had only been for the better. All of my outfits were virtually the same, I had realised whilst trying to think deeply about anything she had complimented me on in the past. No success there, but the outfit had been chosen - the same light wash denim ripped jeans as I always wore and an oversized black band t shirt. I hoped that Lanie liked this style of clothing as my choices in fashion hardly ever varied and all of my outfits remained virtually the same. What else could I wear, really? A button up shirt and smart trousers were really not my thing, nor was the football jacket sitting at the back of my wardrobe as fresh as a daisy - although it was a very popular choice of clothing from the jocks who didn't go a minute without mentioning that they were on the football team. I was well equipped to rep the jock look as I owned the jacket and happened to be on the football team - but that was not my preferred scene. But maybe it was hers. I had a tendency to constantly forget that it had been confirmed that she liked me and always found myself acting as though I desperately wanted her to. Hopefully she had woken up without the blunt attitude this morning, and instead with her mind made up.

Paranoia overcame me as I had entered the school. I felt oddly as though every second person that I walked past in my own grade had glared at me for a little longer than they normally would. I knew I wasn't being stupid. It was more noticeable than it seemed to be when put into words. Besides, I don't get anxious about things with as little heaviness as this, and the lingering looks I was receiving from my fellow peers were making me very anxious indeed. I looked down at my outfit, maybe I'd just spilt the tea I had this morning on it. There was no tea as far as I could tell. I felt somebody kick the back of my bag and in fear I turned around. It was just Calum. I exhaled in relief and a visible annoyance.

"What's up with you?" He asked.

"I don't know. What's up with me?" I retorted.

He just laughed.

"No, really - is there something wrong with me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"People having been giving me weird looks all morning," I said, walking alongside him down the hall.

"I think the sudden girl attention is messing with your brain. Or maybe it's the food."

"No, really," I whined, lowering my voice to a whisper, "Wait until we pass someone in our grade and watch the way they look at me."

We walked past Naya Jones, a small dark haired girl in our grade who was mostly always high or rebelling against humanly morals. It was actually quite a surprise to see her at school. She didn't even acknowledge any living or stationary thing in my direction.

"You've gone mad," Said Calum.

"No. Keep looking."

Matty Siler, a fair, buffed up soccer player who was considered to be part of the jock crowd, however, gave me the look I had been receiving all day.

"Did you see that!?"

Calum carried an expression of confusion. "That is pretty weird... Maybe they just saw the photo on Facebook or something."

"Maybe."

I hoped it was something no more extreme than that. The looks, I had realised, and who they came from were determined by the social division of the school. All of the lookers seemed to be people who intimidated me, people who held more value, people who everybody knew the name of. They were all similar expressions. The lookers would examine me up and down as though I was being carefully judged and behold an expression that was by observation how one typically looks when they find out some bad news. Something had gotten around, but what and why, I had no idea of.