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Chapter 10- Tension

Two Weeks Later

Sam

September 29th. Another big red X on my calendar this morning. Only 1,332 days until I graduate high school.

While that number may not look reassuring, that's counting all the weekends, summers, and holiday breaks. I just didn't have the patience for the math it would take to figure out the number of school days alone. Just like I don't have the patience for whatever math Mr. Smith is doing on the board right now, as I sit slumped in my chair with my earphones in.

Summer has come and passed.

The innocent can never last.

Wake me up when September ends....

Green Day's lyrics pound against my eardrums to the rhythm that the raindrops hit the window of the classroom. The entire world outside is a thick sheet of gray, and I stare into it, deep in thought.

A cliché scene, I know. One that Morton would undoubtedly make me rewrite if I included it in a story: main character stares into the rain, his countenance despondent, pondering dreams of something more than this out there. Cliché and depressing.

But I'm not depressed, necessarily. Just.....forlorn.

Is that the right word? Forlorn? Sad without reason, lonely without cause. The emotional equivalent of the mild but steady drizzle outside....maybe it's melancholy. I make a mental note to consult my thesaurus later.

Cody would probably know the right word, I think with a slight grin. It always comes back to Cody nowadays, and somehow this doesn't bother me.

Thoughts of the boy have been at the forefront of my mind since he sat next to me in creative writing two weeks ago, and has continued to do so since. Every weekday now we talk poetry, trade synonyms, read each other's writing....building a trust that's almost beginning to worry me. Especially since nearly all of my writing, if deciphered correctly, is a one-way ticket to my biggest secret....

A hand waves in front of my face, yanking me out of my thoughts and into the present.

"What?" I ask loudly as I pull out my headphones, but am embarrassed to find that my voice speaks out alone to my silent classmates and teacher. There are a few snickers. Rose is staring at me. So is the teacher, and everyone else.

"My apologies Samantha, I can see that you're very busy," says Mr. Smith, condescendingly. "I was just wondering if you would like to tell us the value of X?"

Shit, I didn't know he was doing example problems. I can't remember the last time I paid attention in this class. The last X I saw was the one I drew on my calendar this morning.

"Um...." I start to sweat, and the snickers around me grow louder. I study the scattered numbers and letters on the whiteboard, searching desperately for some semblance of rationality, but it's like looking at a foreign language. I can't even tell where the equation begins. What unit are we on again?

"We're waaaaiting," Mr. Smith sings, triggering more laughter from the class. My face heats up, both from embarrassment and anger. There's something like an amused glint in the teacher's eye, and I know that he feels no compunction about putting me on the spot. I want to punch his stupid face.

Instead, I turn to Rose desperately. To my absolute astonishment, she presses her lips together and shrugs guiltily. What?! Since when does she not know the answer???

"Some time today, Samantha?"

I grit my teeth. I'm about to march to the front of the room and ruin my almost-one-month streak of not having a detention, when an unexpected voice comes to my aid.