The Stranger

4

The classroom is still empty and I am enjoying the peace of this moment, sipping my cappuccino and looking at the dirty window. The sky seems white this morning, and the wind shuffles the branches around, making a melancholy sound.

In no time, a wave of excited human bodies will break the silence of this stained white walls, and laughs and yells will pack the classroom.

I sigh looking at my phone, disappointed of the blank screen. I curse myself because I am still waiting for a sign of Josh. I am a deluded idiot, but I can't help it. I miss him. I miss a person to call in the morning before work, at night before sleep and I miss making plans with him. I miss the Saturday night on the couch, watching some horror movie and the Sunday breakfast that Josh cooked for me.

Footsteps and a faint voice break my silent thoughts. "Buenos días".

"Buenos días, Andrew," I greet him with a smile.

He is always the first to arrive in the morning, with his curly blonde hair, his black backpack, his earphones and his big glass.

Andrew is tall and shy, and not very good with Spanish. Well, he is not very good with studies in general. But he is a good kid, and in this school is rare to find good kids. The majority is grown up in a bad environment, with no role models. They learn from the street how to survive. The neighborhood is their home, and the school is only their playground: a place to relax and make fun of us.

Sometimes their lack of interest in my subject frustrates me, especially with the smart ones. They could do a lot, with their brains and a slice of dedication, and maybe they could escape from the bitterness and the pain of their lives. But they were born already defeated.

I look at my phone one last time before the bell rings.

"Buenos días," I say when everybody is in their seats. They reply loudly with a giggle painted in their sleepy faces.

"So, can we start with the class?" I ask, clapping my hands.

"Tomorrow. Today is Monday," Jasmin yells with her big mouth, and I can see she is chewing a gum.

I know where her logic goes. "So?" I ask, sitting on the desk.

"We need time to recover from the weekend".

She is so predictable.

"Well then, talk to us about your weekend".

"What? I am not here to listen to her babble about her night with her boyfriend," Mark shouts annoyed, and a few guys follow him.

"So, let's start with the imperfect". I take the grammar book from the desk, and start to look for the right chapter.

Mark's face moves from Jasmin to the book in my hand and then says resigned, "Okay, let's hear about her night".

I shake my head. So predictable!

Jasmin began to narrate about her weekend, and a few minutes later the door is wide open.

I raise my gaze and I look at the blonde guy enter the classroom. He walks slowly trough the noisy room. His head up and his gaze roaming like a bee in search of a free spot.

"Welcome back, Mr. Garrison," I say with a faint smile.

He nods slightly and throws his backpack on the floor, near to his chair. The other students welcome him back with smiles and high-five. He isn't a very open kid, but very popular among the girls. So everyone wants to stick with him.

I look at him, how he leans his shoulders on the back of the wooden chair, how he stretches out his long legs and how the girls' eyes eat for breakfast his beautiful body.