Window

2.

Loud chatter filled the stuffy hallway, masses of kids moving every which way as they made the shuffle to their next class. Sneakers squeaked on the floor that held small puddles of melted snow, tracked in from outside. Bright light illuminated the hallways as the white snow reflected the beaming sun outside of the windows. 

Emma stood still, her teeth gnawing softly on her lower lip. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack, her hesitant eyes focused on the door in front of her. It was her first class of 'Facing History and Ourselves', and because it was such an obscure class, she found herself a loner once again. 

Glancing down at her leather watch, Emma counted down the minutes until it would be over. It was only sixty minutes, which was only three thousand, six hundred seconds which really wasn't that bad when you put it like that. 

So with a deep breath, Emma stepped through the doorway and into the small classroom that consisted of three, circular rows of desks. Emma's brown eyes swept the room, spotting name tags on each and every desk. "Awesome" Emma muttered under her breath, tucking her rambunctious hair behind her ears. 

Her shiny black rain boots slid across the floor as she searched for her desk, her hands tucking into the pockets of her black and white striped sweater. Finding her name on the fourth desk in the last row, Emma collapsed into the seat. 

Mr. Green was the teacher of the class, a middle aged man with long, brown hair and, fittingly, dark green eyes. He had a sharp nose, and thin lips that always seemed to have a smile on it. Emma'd had him for a teacher one semester freshman year, and she had enjoyed his class a lot. So there was at least one thing going right for her. 

Emma drummed her fingers on the empty desk, her eyes darting to the door each time a new student walked in. But with each swell of hope, the one that promised the entering student would be a familiar face, came a crash of disappointment. Underclassmen kept appearing, along with other seniors who Emma didn't dare interact with. 

Boredom began to gnaw at her, the classroom only holding so much that can be analyzed. Emma reached into her black and blue columbia backpack, retrieving the physics review packet she had already started working on.

Cracking her knuckles and grabbing her pencil, Emma began to work. The classroom melted away, the directions on the paper crisp and challenging. Her mind worked to piece together the information, her fingers flying as they typed values into the calculator which retrieved answers. The chatter that filled the small classroom soon turned to a soft drone, until a voice cut through it. 

"I thought that packet was optional."

Jumping slightly, Emma was roughly shoved back into the real world. Her head whipped to the side, locating the source of the voice. Dean Forrester sat in the desk next to hers, his arms crossed casually over his chest. 

"How long have you been there?" Emma wondered as her rapid heart beat finally began to slow. Glancing down at her hands, Emma realized they were gripped tightly around the calculator. Setting it softly back down, Emma turned back to Dean. 

"Dunno, few minutes?" Dean shrugged, glancing up at the clock with his glimmering, forest eyes. "Why? Were you so engrossed in the optional packet that you didn't even hear me sit down?" he questioned, watching Emma purse her lips in thought. 

"Um, yes" Emma replied with a tight smile. "I was honestly just looking for something to do and this was what I came up with. Plus it doesn't hurt to make sure I understand the material."

"You turned to physics for entertainment?" Dean chuckled, shaking his head softly. Emma stared at the dimples on his cheeks and wondered if he was labeling her as a huge nerd. But honestly, she didn't care.