affinity

2. it's you!

Stella's P.O.V

It's been a week since I met that strange boy in the detention room. I never saw him after that, not in the halls or near the bathrooms or lockers. I wonder if he was a high school dropout, referring to how whiny and annoying he seemed to be. I can't help but smile when I remember him falling off of his broken chair-not that I think about him, it's just one of those weird memory flashes alright?-but I have to admit, it was an interesting detention.

"Stella Lorentis!"

My eyes flutter open as I look around and remember that I'm in school, specifically in English class. I was too busy trying to take a nap while also having little memory flashes of the detention room. The dull room with a large whiteboard and students lazily taking the novels out of their bags to open them, ready to read on their wooden desks. Mrs. Man, I know weird name, calls our names for our attendance. I brush the hair from my face, placing my palm under my chin and smile cheekily, "Here."

I've taken too many power naps in her class for her to even consider to like me.

She shakes her head in her usual disappointed look and checks my name in her folder, placing it down and fixing her oval shaped glasses. I look behind as my best friend, Jennie, who gives me a smile and places her pencil between her teeth. She's just waiting for me to get yelled at as that's what usually happens. It's become a daily habit and I can't help but make a funny face at her. Mrs. Man places her hands on my desk, bending her back a little and fixing her glasses again. She gives me a stern look.

I push my chair back a little so that I'm not directly under Mrs. Man's nose. It's not the prettiest thing I tell you.

"Okay, Stella. We need to have a serious conversation." She starts as I just let out a tired sigh. I'm back to listening to those useless lectures again.

"Like right now?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest. Some students watch us as they put their books down while others find the excuse to go check their phones.

"Yes, right now. How much do you sleep at night?"

"I don't know. Who asks that?" I raise my eyebrow at her.

"What is your usual bedtime? 9:00? 10:00? Later than that? What is it?"

I shrug, "The clock's dead in my room."

"Great excuse. Tell me honestly, or otherwise this will have to go to your parents."

"Oh my god! First of all, no one sleeps at the same time every single day."

"I do," Elizabeth Marks calls out, putting her pencil behind her ear as she marks something in her notebook.

I turn around in my seat as she gives me a confused look. "No one asked you."

I turn back and face Mrs. Man, "I don't follow any schedule, so does it really matter how much I sleep at night? It's not like I'm going to grow anymore."

I've realized and accepted the fact that I won't be growing any more and that drinking chocolate milk in my childhood probably wasn't the best thing to do. Instead of growing taller, I became more energetic day by day.

She moves her hands away from my desk and places them firmly on her hips. "I think you have insomnia."

"What? What's inmonsia?" I ask, frowning at the name. I hear some people chuckle as I roll my eyes at them. They find everything amusing.

"Insomnia, means habitual sleeplessness or inability to sleep." Elizabeth says, in her usual 'I know it all' tone.

"Thanks Mrs. Google," I mutter, rolling my eyes.