Today's a regular Monday, early Fall, near the beginning of the school year, but near the end of the actual year. In other words, it is a day that usually holds no reckoning. So finding that everything changes today baffles me.
The entire day starts with a change: it's the sound; something sounds different today. The buzzing bass of the wake-up vibration is slightly lower and a tad bit off beat. I've woken up earlier too, which is eerie. Not only that, everything is moving slower, at least by two-thirds-of-a-beat. The everyday melody that sung in my ears sounds ... foreign today.
I feel ... different; not bad different, but not good different either. It feels scary.
It made me want to cower in a corner and shy away from the world.
It made me want to wish that I truly am deaf; that life didn’t give birth to the music in my mind.
And I don't like it.
The bell rings three minutes late, so I'm in class three minutes early. Not that anyone notices. They just go with the flow of things, coming to class the second the bell rings. Some come even later.
The teacher, Mr. Sid, is one of them. He arrives to class eight minutes later than usual, which officially makes him thirteen minutes and thirty-four seconds late. But there is something else off about him.
Today, he arrives with a new sound. It's a tenor, just like his, but slightly higher and hell of a lot louder.
Mr. Sid places his bags and papers on his desk at the front of the room and brings along the new kid. "Bonjour, mes amis," he says, sending a wave of tenor to my ears. I'm used to hearing it first thing in the morning, but never in an upbeat, happy rhythm. "Aujourd'hui, nous avons un nouveau étudiant qui se nous joindra. Accueillons-le!" Then, to the kid, he says, "Asseyez-vous là," pointing to the desk beside me.
In English, Mr. Sid said, "Hello my friends, today we have a new student who is joining us. Let us welcome him! You may sit there."
New Kid makes his way over to me in a ... an unnatural rhythm. In the biginning, t's a tango, then it's upbeat, like one's heartbeat, then it slows to a waltz. He has no steady beat to him - he is unpredictable.
He sits in his seat and I immediately turn away, letting my hair dangle like a curtain between us. I try to listen to the teacher - figuratively speaking, of course - like I always do, but for some odd reason, I find myself looking at him every so often.
He has short dark brown hair that is dyed a lighter shade of brown - most likely five weeks ago - and is brushed to the left. His skin is olive and he has a slight case of acnes, which is quite common for teens nowadays, and he has a baby face.
His clothes composes of navy jeans, a V-neck shirt underneath a red blazer with its sleeves rolled up, a single gold band around his neck, and a pair of black combat boots. A pair of wireless headphones is hanging around his neck as well, and he is wearing a pair of dark blue-rimmed rectangular glasses.
I'm so entranced my him I don't even realize I'm staring until I noticed his lips parting. "...me?" he says. "Do you mind helping me? This is my first time in this program, and French too, so I don't know the language well."
I blink a few times, till I find his eyes. His eyes are brown like his hair, like sweet milk chocolate. I can stare at them all day and not get tired of it.
"Excuse me?" his lips form. "Are you ... all right?"
Navreet, the girl who sits beside the once empty seat motions to him and he turns around, cutting me from his line of sight. I sigh and return my attention to Mr. Sid. That would be the only time I would ever be there. Once she explains my condition, he'd avoid me like they all do.
