Maybe

Chapter 10: NEED TO EDIT

I dragged Bayla to the hallway where Savannah and Julie sat on the extended window ledges that made excellent seats.

"We ran into a security guard. Sorry we're late."

"It's cool," Julie patted the space next to her,"Sit."

I was nice not to have to explain myself. They just got it. I took Bayla's stuff and set it beside me. We all took out our lunches, and ate quietly today. Not much conversation. It was nice.

I got to read, and so did they. I wanted to talk to Nolan and Bayla, but I had a sinking feeling they'd freak again. Whatever it was, they'd better get over it, because we had the rest of the day to find Bayla a date and go dress shopping.

-Please don't freak! I just wanted to make sure that we're still going to the dance tomorrow?-

I attached a mental string to Nolan, and I could tell he heard me.

I noticed my phone's screen light up. Nolan.

'Of course'

I smiled with relief. Good.

-Bayla? Are you okay now?-

She turned her head, her brown hair swishing on her back, and nodded.

The bell rang, and I walked alongside my friends to choir. I took choir to sing, but most people just don't want to play an instrument. The result being that anyone who has ever caused unnessisary trouble in their lives is in my class. I've adapted, but it's painfully obvious that I was the only 'white' girl in my class. Until Bayla. Its not like I didn't blend in, it's just that my school is big on stereotypes. There's no alto section, no soprano section- its boys and girls.

Walking in, I felt the eyes on Bayla and I. The room was made into four rows, and three sections, all looking right down on whoever was on the normal floor, by the piano. Which would be us. It made me uncomfortable, all of those eyes. I hurried up the steps to my seat, while Bayla took hers.

It was notoriously boring in choir, there were far too many behavior lectures, and not enough singing. When your music is about jubilant song and where the wild geese fly, and just happiness in general, you tend to absolutely hate it.

I loved to sing. I wanted to be in a band on a record label someday. It was that ultimate goal I desperately wanted, but didn't say aloud for fear of being shot down. It irritated me that I didn't learn anything worth applying to my lyrics, let alone my voice.

Shutting up my mind, I tuned into the front and sat through another boring period.

On my way to math, I passed through the crowd of people, tall and intimidating. They were a year older than me, but I had the best chance of seeing Nolan here. Bayla had taken a different math class, so I was on my own. I saw his back, and heard his voice. Pushing through the crowd, I tapped on his shoulder.

"Hey," was all I had time to say before I was sucked back into the hoard of animals dressed as teenagers.

I tried to focus, but all I learned in math was how to be patient. I watched the snowflakes fall, creating a white haze outside. The sky was the same color as the snow, and the world seemed to fold into itself. I could see an outline of the first wing from my desk, it -

"How would you solve number seventeen, Pierce?"

Busted.

"You would arrange the 17 and the 57 so they formed a proportion and then you match it up with x above 100 and multiply," I said calmly. I was immensely glad I'd paid attention yesterday- it was just a review.

Lifting her eyebrows, Mrs. Roth nodded her head, moving on.

The bell rang and I raced to Spanish.

"So. Anything else you'd like to tell me?" panted Bayla, falling in beside me as I lurched my books up into my arms. I could only imagine how I looked. I felt clumsy- the books clutched to my chest as I ran, bobbing up and down as I moved.

"I can fly." I suggested, but Bayla didn't get that I was kidding, and she flashed me an alarmed glare.

"Kidding!" I raised my fingertips in surrender, the closest I could do to raising my hands up.

We rushed into the door as the late bell rang, and flew into our seats, the metal chair legs screaming in protest as we hit them. It earned us a few glares, but we ignored it.

I loved Spanish. I loved doing the homework, and putting together my own sentences with our vocab words. I loved the idea of going to Spain someday, although my dream was to go to Puerto Rico.

Spanish let me think of faraway places, and different words. It let me imagine traveling across the world, meeting new people and serving new causes. I relished participating, and always felt good when I was right.

It felt good because it was something lots of Americans learned, but few really remembered. Forgotten, but far, far, far from dead.