By Design

The Modern Art of Friendship and its Peculiarities

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I really disliked that sound. The cacophony of pens tapping against desks was enough to drive anyone crazy. To have a teacher reciting the fine print of what makes an A+ essay an A+ essay and simultaneously listen to an irritating symphony of stationery made me restless and I began to vibrate my knee.

And I started doing the same with my pen.

Stop it. Stop it for rubber's sake. I bit my lip to suppress an exaggerated sigh and sat on my hands to prevent them from irritating me any further.

'Teresa Willows.'

I shifted my gaze up to my English teacher without moving my head and licked my lips sheepishly. I didn't know why but I suddenly felt foolish. She was staring at me through her thin-rimmed frames, her face blank.

'Well done,' she finally said and set down my English essay on my desk. I leaned forward and immediately caught sight of a red A+ boldly plastered in the corner.

Well rubber of bands.

She liked it. It had been two weeks since I came to this school, and so far I've been settling decently with the schoolwork, but Miss Dunland, my English teacher, was hard to please. My writing could've been as eloquent as a classics' author but without the right "substance", it would still be condemned with an F grade.

I looked up from my paper to briefly catch the curious eyes of some of my classmates and the condescending stares of a few others. Diagonal to my right, a boy smiled at me, a real, genuine smile, and I returned it politely.

'Alright, ladies and gentlemen,' my English teacher announced. 'You may now pack your books away.'

Cue the bell.

Today, time was lazy with me and I slowly pushed my books into my bag, thinking of what I was going to make for dinner.

Pasta perhaps? I wasn't in the mood for Italian.

A stir-fry? Tasty, but not as good as-

'Hey,' a voice jerked me from my mental recipe book and my hand hung mid-air.

Oh, it was the smiling boy from a few minutes ago.

'Hello,' I replied. He grinned at me, combing his hands through his thick blonde hair.

'I'm Derek.' That was the first time in a while that someone actually introduced themselves to me upon the first few seconds.
'Teresa.'

'I know who you are.' His boyish face bluntly expressed mischief as he widened his grin.

'Oh.' Sometimes I wanted to kick myself for my monosyllabic responses when my brain failed me of vocabulary.

That A+ wasn't looking so shiny anymore.

'Oh?' he repeated, shaking his head slightly. He pulled the chair from the desk in front of me and heaved himself onto it. 'You get an A+ from Dunland and the best you can come up with is 'oh?'

'Yes,' I answered honestly. He stared at me incredulously then suddenly burst out laughing.

'What the hell!' He leaned back on the chair lazily, shaking his head again at me. 'You've literally only replied with one word at everything I've said so far.'

'Well, no,' I said, zipping up my bag. 'See? That's two words.' For some reason that tickled his funny bone again and he broke out into laughter.

'I don't know why the fuck I didn't talk to you sooner,' he said, after he gathered some humility and stopped laughing.