I Don't Really Know...

Chapter 4: Teacher's Pet and Mystery Man

I can be very...awkward.  I admit it.  

That’s what art was like.  I happened to sit right next to the girl who was bullied, and it was very...honestly, scary.  I didn’t know what to say.  I sneaked a peek at her.

Her brown hair had natural blonde highlights, which I found to be so pretty.  She wasn’t very tall, and had a perfect figure.  Her hair wasn’t frizzy at all, actually, and her eyes were a warm brown.  Her lips were red, and she seemed fascinated in the lesson.  

Then, the light set in from the window, right on her face.  It made her eyes, sparkle like diamonds.  She had long lashes, making her look like she had so much makeup on, but I could tell she didn’t.  Why would people bully her?  There’s nothing wrong with her!  She caught me studying her, and I rapidly stuck my nose in a book, not looking at her at all anymore.  The teacher noticed me pretending to be very involved in my book.

“Excuse me, Miss. Linda.  Are you preoccupied at the moment by not being able to listen to my lesson?”  She looked at me, annoyed.  I stammered.

“Uh-uh, no, sorry.”  I looked down, ashamed.  

She made a little hmph and started babbling again about how to use oil pastels and heavy white, stark paper.  My cheeks turned rosy-red, as I saw the victim of the bullying looking at me with a strange expression on her face.  

Class was finally over.  I couldn’t make a piece of art that was worth something more than a first grader to save my life any day.  I practically ran out of the classroom, desperate to go to gym.  Unfortunately, in this high school, you have to take gym for all four years.  Talk about torture.  I ran into Alicia in the hallway again, and she still seemed reluctant to talk to me.  

“Hi Alicia!  How was gym?”

“Uhh...fine, it was fine.”  

She left quickly, brushing my shoulder as she veered past me, obviously trying to get away from me.  I sighed in my mind.  Why did I always mess up friendships whenever I tried to make one?  

It was one of my specialities.

I walked into the gym, the gym clothes wrinkled in my hand, and Mrs. Tigar noticed them.  She nodded, and pointed to the locker rooms.  I nodded back and ran to the metal door.  Inside, a younger woman was sitting at a small desk in the corner of the room.  She had blond hair and brown eyes, and didn’t look extra-ordinary.  I walked over and was suddenly confused.  

“Hello, are you the assistant gym teacher?” I asked slowly.  She laughed.  

“I’m the head gym teacher.  But I don’t like to yell at kids.  She does all of that.  Imagine what all that yelling does to your throat.!”  She made wild eyes and smiled.  I laughed out loud.

“I can’t imagine!  Sorry, but can you help me find my locker?  I’m Zoie Linda.” I replied to her little joke confidently.  She went through a clipboard of names, and circled my row for my locker combination.