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Song: Sun Models, ODESZA
We are sitting in class. A small fan shifts the stale, dusty air around. A thin, light yellow paint peals off the concrete walls. The window is slightly open, a little breeze chilling the necks of the kids who sit closest to them. A soft humming of the wasp flying around is the only sound heard as the dust dances and plays with the dim sunlight.
"Here is a notebook. I expect you to write everything down that happens this school year (and I mean everything). Start at the beginning. Describe who you are to start, if you can't think of anything else. No basics, like favorite colours or animals. Play with your words and let them flow onto the paper. I also absolutely ban the word say, says, or said," Miss Leah told us not even three minutes ago, while throwing large, black and white notebooks onto our unsteady desks. Her lace white dress flows behind her, and you can see the heavy mascara applied on her eyelashes. Her warm brown eyes greet everyone as she passes by, and she seems to be that hipster kind of teacher, which makes a few kids snicker.
To start at the beginning. What does that even mean? Start when you woke up? When you started school? When you were born? I look over to the boy next to me. He sits with his pencil on his lip, his brown eyes watching me, his too familiar face show-casing a grin that makes a smile play on my lips. He writes something down on paper, crumples it and then throws it at me.
Are you writing about me again, Claire?
(Yes) (No)
(Why would I wanna do that)
I stare for a second at the messy handwriting of mine before throwing it back to him. I guess that can be a part of describing who I am. The blonde girl with messy handwriting. I don't mean to sound all deep and stuff, but I guess I really don't know how to describe myself without basics.
Most of the class has been staring at the teacher for a while, kinda in a 'are-you-kidding-me?' way. Dakota looks at me, the note uncrumpled and in his left hand. I smirk at him, while he pretends to act hurt.
A small conversation is starting in the corner, a few boys and a girl that you really couldn't not know. Max and Kai are there, being the life of the conversation. Rialyn rolls his dark brown eyes at something they said, while Aaron sits slouched down, his hood covering half of his face. Rosella's eyes light up beneath sunglasses that are so big they almost fall off her face, while she laughs along with the guys.
I can't help but stare. And, before I know what in the world just happened, I drag Dakota by the hand and walk over to them. It's not as if time or my heart stops or my breath is knocked out of me, but it feels weird.
"Hey," I greet, sitting down.
All I get are stares, and I'm not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.
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