A New Normal

Spitballs? Really?

'Towers' by Bon Iver

'One of the most heart braking things in the world is hearing someone say, "I'm used to it." And not being able to do anything about it.'

•••

I was so uncomfortable in that moment.

You know that look predators have when they hunt? The way they stare down their prey before they pounce?

That's how he had been staring at me since he had walked into the class room, and, unfortunately, it didn't seem as though he was planing to to stop anytime soon.

"So as I said, my name is Mr. Peters and I'll be teaching you mathematics this year. I hope to give you all a pleasurable experience and that I'll be able to teach you something new." He said, his voice is squeaky and high pitched, giving me a headache, yet soft, but not in the good way. In the way that gave you a false sense of security.

He had short, brown hair with white streaks running through it, brown eyes, crooked, yellow teeth, and he was one of the shortest men I'd seen, probably not even standing at 4'9 (not that I'm saying that that's a bad thing, just pointing it out).

If there was any chance that he might have been attractive in his younger days, those days were long gone now as his beer gut hung dangerously over his belt, making me feel sorry for the buttons that held his slightly stained shirt together.

He definitely didn't look like a well educated man, let alone a teacher.

Sam must have noticed that I was practically frozen in place, because he turned to me and asked, "Are you okay Abby?" As he reached out for my arm.

I'm sure it had been meant as an act of kindness or consideration, but I still flinched away from his touch. It was a reflex, and even though I had toned them down over the years, they never went away completely.

He frowned as he pulled his hand back, looking at me worriedly.

I gave him a tight smile and nodded my head. "Yeah. Just a little tired." I told him, trying my best to play it off as if he had been imagining things.

I had gotten good at lying over the years, but then again, I didn't have to lie to many. No one cared about me enough to check in, and those who did weren't very difficult to convince that I was fine.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his gaze calculating and suspicious. He continued to watch me closely me and I met his gaze for a long while, not wanting to give in, but I couldn't keep it up and eventually shied away from his watchful eye, turning all my attention to the front of class.

He had always been attentive and I knew that. He used to play detective with me when I first moved to America, but he most likely didn't remember that anymore.

I decided that trying to ignore both him and Mr. Peters, focusing on the work we had been assigned shortly after the new teacher introduced himself, was the best option just then.

It was pretty simple stuff, algebra and solving for X, so I finished it within about half an hour.

I quickly become bored and looked for something to do, wanting to busy myself so I didn't get caught up in my own thoughts.

A few ideas raced through my mind, but there were faults with them all.

For example, first thing I could do was hum a melody.

On the other hand, I could jump out of my chair, shout, 'fuck school!' And race out of the room.

Needless to say, I couldn't do the first as there were too many songs to choose from, and the other seemed boring quite frankly.