Second Block - Trigonometry - 1013
I groaned inwardly. Math always made me want to fake a seizure in class so I could sue the teacher for an A. Lord knows I'd never get one any other way. The hallways filled again with the flood of students, already gone from a happy mass of friends catching up with each other to something more resembling a bunch of gray, hopeless POW's. Teenagers kept their heads down and walked off to their next class as fast as possible, hardly even making eye contact but for the odd few friends. Luckily for me, this made it easy to bump elbows with everyone without drawing attention to myself. Unluckily for me, I found the door to trig before I found color. I walked inside, a little disappointed, but I had plenty of time to find whoever it was that I loved.
Again, it was an awkward experience introducing myself as "Haiden, the new kid," with a handshake to all my peers stuck in the same hell as me. For all my efforts though, there was no flash of color announcing 'Here's the love of your life! Go get 'em tiger!'
Mr. Grayson didn't help my embarrassment by commenting, "Well, I'd introduce you to the class Haiden, but it looks like you've already done it yourself," with a sarcastic grin. This earned a few soft chuckles from the students and served make the heat rush to my face, but I kept silent.
He went on with a speech that probably was near identical to Mrs. Bradley's but replacing every mention of "computer" with "math" instead. I wouldn't really know, since I had dug around in my bag and pulled out my earbuds. Plugging them in discreetly to my phone under my ashy gray desk, I found the playlist I'd titled 'soppy lovey dovey shit' a few days former. It seemed proper considering the circumstances of earlier today.
The music helped me pass the time nicely, and I'm guessing Mr. Grayson took pity on the new kid seeing as he didn't mention the earbuds even when he was passing out his own syllabus towards the end of class. Whatever his reasoning, it worked for me. I relaxed in my front-row seat leaning back to stare at the marbly ceiling and gray cabinets. I wondered what color the cabinets were really. The ceiling was probably actually the marble color I saw, or something too similar to differentiate, but the cabinets definitely were not actually gray. Thinking about this made me sad and a little angry for some reason, so I closed my eyes and lost myself in the music. I made sure to stay awake though; I'd hate to look socially inept shaking everybody's hands, and like a slacker, snoozing in class. I tried my very hardest to think of the colors I had seen in the hallway, I wanted to recreate what I had seen in my head but I just couldn't. The image escaped me, but the memory of my feelings could not, and would not, I decided. I remembered the stupidification, the awe, the utter confusion, the desperation to return the color back to the hallway as I searched for the mysterious person.
Thankfully, the bell rang clearly through my music, stirring me from my thoughts. Shoving the syllabus into my backpack roughly, I reached for my schedule, checking it for my next class.
Third Block - Chemistry - 1507
Another hard one. Two in a row. Just my luck of course. I brushed elbows or something with the love of my life so now I get to deal with probably the worst two possible classes of my day right on top of one another. I sighed, accepting my fate to be ostracized further as I searched the once again crowded hallways for color, brushing fingertips and backs of hands with everyone I could. Pausing the playlist, I entered the chem lab, once again finding a seat near to the door so I could introduce myself to every student as they entered. Mr. Rhoad must've been out in the hallway, thankfully, because I didn't see anyone resembling a teacher in the room. I wasn't really sure I could deal with another teacher bringing attention to the already unorthodox act of shaking my fellow student's hands with no pretext besides being new.
I was getting tired of seeing all the gray faces entering the room and greeting them with a forced smile, remembering how full of life faces just like these had looked in color. Completing my little hand shaking ritual left me feeling disappointed and relieved at the same time. Even though I hadn't found who had given me a moment of color, at least it was over and I could get on with class. As I assumed, Mr. Rhoad came in shortly, wearing a jet black sports jacket, after the last of the students had taken their seats and the bell had announced the one minute warning. He made his way to the front of the room and wrote his name down on the whiteboard.
"Ok kids. I'm guessing most of you aren't looking forward to three months of learning about chemistry and the atomic table. So, I'm going to let you all read my syllabus on your own time. Right now, I want to discuss something that might interest a few of you. Pigmentum-amor is the scientific name for it, but most people refer to it as love colors. While most people can't logically explain why or how it happens, what we do know about it is that when a person finds someone that they are completely infatuated with, contact between the two will cause the former to see the natural world in its real colors," he paused for a moment here, eyeing the students, then continued, "This is not always a mutual relationship, nor are cases always the same. Most people claim to have developed their love colors over time, starting to see them come in as they met and talked and grew as a couple. Others say theirs were instantaneous. Some claim that they love somebody and still see nothing but gray. Love colors are a tricky subject to understand, and impossible to predict, which is why I'm sure you all have questions about them," he concluded his short speech by looking to his class for hands to be selected.
I kept looking forward, my attention captured by the subject. "Yes..." Mr. Rhoad paused to glance at his computer, presumably for the name of the student with the question, "Roger."
"You said that love colors aren't always mutual? What do you do if someone sees colors but you don't?" Roger asked from somewhere a few seats behind me.
Mr. Rhoad grinned a little, showing off his white teeth, startlingly different from his gray skin, then said, "I had that issue four years ago, it took me a while, but I slowly fell in love with the woman who saw color with me, now she's my wife. I suppose the only thing to do is to either fall for them or disappoint them. Any other questions?" he asked scanning the room. "In that case, I guess I will have some time to get to my syllabus. Now, everyone at least pretend to pay attention for the next five minutes then you can talk till the end of class," he said, still beaming charismatically.
After this I lost interest. Mr. Rhoad, who was easily my coolest teacher yet, went through the highlights of his syllabus briefly, then sat down at his own desk and let the class manage itself. As expected, it got rather rowdy with something like half an hour of free time on the first day. I talked to a couple of the kids, discussing what Arizona had been like, but I think I already came off as weird after shaking hands with the entire class.
The last bit of class was spent on my phone, messing around, checking social media from back home, seeing who was getting into trouble where, but nothing was really interesting. The bell rang and I remembered I had my trig syllabus floating loose in the bag somewhere. Uttering a brief swear word under my breath, I scrambled to reorganize my bag and get my schedule out so I could restart the process of introducing myself to my other classmates. It took me a minute or so, and the room was empty but for me and Mr. Rhoad by the time I finished. I muttered, "Have a good day," in his general direction, then hastened for the solid gray door. Without warning a girl turned the corner, rather quickly, into the doorway. Instinctively I closed my eyes just before we butted heads and took a step away from each other.
"I'm so sorry!" I said rubbing my head, gray stars filling my vision through my tight closed eyelids. I opened them and found myself face to face with a pair of jet black eyes.
"My bad," she muttered "wasn't even paying attention, excuse me," she said, darting by me before I could say anything else and finding a seat towards the back of Mr. Rhoad's classroom.
I made it to Mr. Smith's speech and debate class before I realized something. Those jet black eyes of her's had been familiar.
YOU ARE READING
Color
Roman d'amourHaiden's life has been different shades of gray and white his whole life. He hasn't known anything different, until at last, someone finally makes him see color. His world is lit up in every hue imaginable, and she has no idea. He has to make her se...
