A Drop in the Ocean [On Hold]

Part 1

Tania continued doodling.

Occasionally, she glanced up at the teacher, and recommenced with the light scratching of pencil across paper.

"Real busy, aren't ya?" 

Ryan Porter sat in the row next to Tania, and was a busybody. Tania used to welcome it, back when they were friends, before she learned of his nickname, Racist Ryan. 

Now, she just ignored him and instead concentrated on the lilting voice of the instructor. Undeterred, Ryan leaned in to peek at her notes, and came away giggling. From the front, Ms. Lopez frowned, but went on discussing the difference between APA and MLA citations.

"Dude, the hell? You wanna be one of them or somethin'?"

Though she tried to resist, his needling tone got to her, and Tania flipped her braids with one hand before answering, "Maybe."

Ryan tittered amid other students shushing him. Then his eyes glazed over as though he'd realized something.

"But wouldn't that, like," he paused and fiddled with his blond locks, "mess with your weave?"

Here, Tania laughed, and louder than she'd intended. She wanted to remind Ryan of her ten years on the board, her latest championship, her mentoring sessions with Caleb, and her latest sponsorship.

However, she knew he knew. So she just laughed, because that's how her mother had taught her to handle idiots.

"And what's so funny, Ms. Sanchez?"

An entire classroom full of eyes had settled on Tania, along with Ms. Lopez, who patiently waited for an answer.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Tania gestured to her row-buddy and shrugged. "Ryan's a funny guy."

He tsked and slumped in his hard, plastic-backed chair, cheeks burning.

Tania bit her lips and shook her head.

"Next time, exchange jokes outside of class, not during," Ms. Lopez said, resuming the lesson a moment later.

Tania nodded and mouthed the words, Yes, ma'am, before going back to her picture. The one that had made Racist Ryan question her viability in the water.

She put the finishing touches on the scales and then whispered a greeting to her friend on the right. Helia's brown hair tumbled down in waves, her olive skin tanned perfectly from the Florida sun. On their many beach-excursions, Tania envied her, but only a little. When they suited up and waxed up their boards, she guessed Helia envied her a bit, too. 

When Ms. Lopez's back was turned, Tania held the picture to her face, a winning smile completing the look.

Helia covered her mouth to hold back a chuckle. Then, she quickly scribbled a note and passed it. Tania unfurled the paper and treasured the words inscribed in pink gel pen: Ms. Sanchez, I think you'd make a beautiful mermaid.