The Girl With the Orange Eyes

Chapter 5

"Welcome back to class, Miss Johnson." Mr. Smith said with fire in his tone. I stood frozen in the doorway, not sure how to react. "Sit down." He said in a menacing voice. He was mad. He was livid mad. In fact, he was mad enough that I thought about running out the door again but seeing as I would face his wrath sooner or later, it might as well be sooner.  I walked to my seat with my head high and confidence in my expression, even though inside I felt as if I was marching to the guillotine. I slid into my seat and looked up. Instantly I looked down again when I saw Mr. Smith's expression. 

"Now that you have decided to grace us with your presence, Miss Johnson, may we continue on with the lesson?" All confidence I had as I had walked across the room left me and I stared at the desk and slowly nodded. No one made a sound as Mr. Smith finished the lesson and gave us our assignment, a review for the test tomorrow. He stomped back to his desk and we started the review. The silence in the room was nauseating and I wished that someone would say something, cough, sneeze, anything! I didn't care what. I just wanted someone to do something, to make a noise. No one did, though. Finally, the bell rang. It was a glorious sound, and I had never been so grateful to any inanimate object before that moment, even though it did about give me a heart attack. 

I was one of the first students out of the room. I couldn't stand anymore of the silence, the fiery looks from all of my classmates, or Mr. Smith. I raced to my locker and got out all my homework, stuffed it into my book bag, and ran for the bus. I found my usual seat in the very back and sat down. As I set my bag on the seat beside me, to make sure no one had the bright idea of sitting next to me, something out the window caught my eye. It was Mr. Smith and he was scanning the mosh pit of students. It was obvious he was looking for someone. Seeing as Mr. Smith never ventures out of his room unless he has a chance to see a student publicly humiliated or when he is hunting down a student, and figuring that either way the only student that he was currently ticked off at was me, I had better hide. I slunk lower in my seat. I was so concentrated on the man outside plotting my death that I didn't notice someone move my book bag and slide into the seat next to me until they said hello and I had another near heart attack. 

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just saw you sitting back here by yourself and since my brother that I usually sit by is sick today, I thought I would come sit by you." Thomas said. I could tell that he was embarrassed because he had scared me so bad. For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. No one, especially a boy, had ever, ever sat by me or even tried to acknowledge my presence before on the bus, unless it was for purpose of humiliating me in front of everyone. I am afraid I might have looked like an idiot sitting there with my jaw pretty much unhinged, it was hanging open so wide.

"I can leave if you want me to," he said uncomfortably. 

"Oh, uh, no. I was just surprised that's all. I have never had anybody talk to me on the bus before.  I just didn't really know what to do, sorry. You can sit by me if you want." He smiled. I smiled back.

"So, I'm Thomas. Thomas Hitchcock."

"Kim Johnson." 

"So how was your day today?" He asked. I was surprised at how sincere he was, how he actually wanted to know about me. Our conversation flowed easily and smoothly. I laughed and he smiled. We talked about our different classes, friends, teachers, and the wrath of Mr. Smith. He laughed at my retelling of the story and I found myself laughing too. By the time we reached my house I had a feeling I had honestly never had before, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay on the bus, and I realized that this was the first time I had ever had a good time on the bus ride home before.  I stepped off the bus and again did something that shocked me. Something else I had never done before. I turned and waved at the bus as it pulled away. 

"Man," I thought, "today is full of new opportunities." I smiled at that.  As I walked from the bus stop up the street to my house, I was in a wonderful mood. But all of that changed when I opened my front door. The stench of the place hit me full on and I gagged. It reeked of vanilla. My friends always wondered why I couldn't stand the smell of vanilla. I took a step inside and closed the door behind me. Strong smells had always given me a headache, and my head quickly started throbbing. I squinted through the dim lighting. My grandma always had the curtains closed and the lights off except for at night. I could hear the television which was also normal. In front of me was the stair case that led up to my room. To my right was an opening which led into the living room. I took a few steps forward so I could see into the living room. My grandma sat in our brown armchair facing the T.V. She had an ugly puke green blanket thrown over her lap. Her short, curly grey hair looked crazy, like in the cartoons when someone has been electrocuted. She stared intently at the T.V.

"Grandma? Grandma, I'm home." I called into the dimly lit room. Her eyes didn't leave the television. She didn't move or give any sign that she had heard me.

"Grandma? Grandma, I met someone today. She is a Japanese girl that moved here." Still nothing.

"A boy sat by me on the bus today." Her eyes never left the T.V. She didn't look at me. She wouldn't look at me. I knew she wasn't deaf. I had heard her talking to Mrs. Johannes yesterday about what a pain I was. When my parents first died, she had lovingly took me in. She had raised me and I had so much fun with her. She stopped the first time I accidentally released my fire in front of her. I had been three four when my parents had died. They had taught me to never let my fire out in front of people. A look of horror and realization had crossed my Grandma's face when she saw the flames, and she had told me to go to my room. I was five. She had left me in my room for hours until finally, I had come downstairs for food. She had been sitting in the same chair she was now, staring at the T.V. I had asked her what was wrong. She had ignored me, just like now. That's when it started. The only times she had interacted with me was to enroll me in school or to make me food. She stopped doing that when I turned twelve and she figured I could take care of myself. She had done the grocery shopping up until then too. Until one day I asked her if she could go get more cheese, and she had thrown her purse at my head and told me that I would now be doing the shopping and to just leave her alone. It was the most she had said to me in years. I never asked her for anything again. I had just endured until I met Jane. She, and her parents, had taken to me like I was another member of their family. Most of the time I was at their house. Just like I was going to be tonight. 

"Grandma?" I asked on more time. She ignored me once more and I felt the prick of hot tears in my eyes. I turned and ran up the stairs to my room as the tears started to flow. I ripped my door open and slammed it behind me. I locked it for good measure, even though I knew she would never come up to see if I was alright. Some part of me kept holding on to the hope that she would though. I turned away from the door, collapsed on my bed, and sobbed.