Exception (Harry Styles)

Chapter 3

I make my way through the crowded halls, squeezing past the kids who like to stand in the middle of the hallway. I can't stand that. As I get closer to the lockers, I see Louis waiting for me. A smile forms across my face when I see him, I am so grateful to have bumped into him freshman year.

            I walk over to him to be greeted with, "Good morning sunshine!" Louis is always making these cheesy comments that make me feel like a somebody rather than nothing. I think he sees that I am different. There is no doubt in my mind that he sees it, and tries to make me feel better about myself. 

However,  there is so much that he doesn't know, so much he is so blind to.

            "Good morning Louis." I say as I get my books out my locker for literature class. Literature class is my favorite class. It's about the only class I look forward to. The only thing that would make it any better is that if Louis was in there with me. Me and Louis only have art together. I wish I had more classes with my best friend, but I guess I am just going to have to be grateful with what I have.

            As the weeks passed, leading up to now, I have learned a lot by just sitting back and watching everything that goes on around me. Zayn for example: I knew about who he was, just today was the first day we have had any communication. I've learned who Louis hangs out with; I would just rather not get involved. I would rather not set myself up to get my feelings hurt, or for the little bit of self-esteem I had left to get snatched away from me.

            I sit in the very back corner of the classroom; it's like this is all my classes except art, where there are tables. Me and Louis sit at the table together, I'm grateful he will sit with me. Sit with the "freak" as people would say.

            I love literature class because I get to write. I love to write, I know it's weird, but it's my way to express myself.

            I started writing when I got my first diary, back before my mom left. When my mom and that man that doesn't deserve to be called my father started fighting, I was given a diary for my birthday. I wrote everything that came to me, it helped me clear my mind. This class helps me do what I love to do for a hour and a half. I can't complain.

            The teacher, Mr. Baldwin, was pretty nice.  A lot of kids don't like his class because we do a lot of journal entries and stories. However, I don't mind at all. I can escape everything and write whatever comes to mind. Of course, some things I leave out, I can't have anyone becoming suspicious. I save that for when I can unlock the small lock of my diary, and get lost in the pages.

            The journal entry today was Bravery. I think about this for a few seconds, and my pencil finds its way to the paper.

            Before I know it I have over a page and a half. I let my pencil talk for me as I spill my mind into the lines on the paper. When I get done I noticed that I pressed harder during one sentence. I wish I had more of it. I stare at it for a second then get up to turn my paper in.

            The rest of the class is spent listening to Mr. Baldwin talk about different techniques and stuff that I really don't listen to. I have my own way of writing, the type that comes from my heart. I have an A+ in this class, it's almost safe to say that I am a over achiever in this class, and I don't even try.

            When it gets close for the bell to ring, everyone gets up and stands by the door. Me? I stay exactly where I am. In all honesty, I don't want to be up there with all those kids. With my luck I would get tripped and trampled on when the bell rings.

            The bell finally rings, and it's like someone hit the fast forward button. Everyone crowds the hallways, and I squeeze my way to my locker. As I am putting my things away in my locker, someone comes up and ruffles my hair. I spin around to find Louis grinning from ear to ear. "Ready to go draw some hideous pictures?" I laugh at him and nod my head yes. We have art class next, I'm not the best drawer in the world, but I'm certainly not the worst. Louis on the other hand, can't even draw a smiley face without it having some kind of flaw.

            The art teacher is super nice, her name is Mrs. Ellie. She's an older woman with so much talent. She is nice to everyone, but at the same time, will not put up with any disrespect from any student.

            Louis and I are the first few people to come inside the art room. Instead of desks, there are tables, and no assigned seats. I am glad there are no assigned seats, mostly because there are jerks in this school that probably would "accidentally" spill crap on me. I once again am very lucky to have Louis as a friend. He sits at the table with me in the corner and keeps me company.

            A strange feeling kind of washed over me as I sat down. Like a feeling something is different, or just...off? I start looking around the class as casually as I could. I don't want to draw attention to myself.

            The art room is starting to fill up rapidly. The warning bell has rang so everyone is coming in, not wanting to be late. As my eyes skim across the room, they finally land on the person who was causing the feeling. Sitting in the opposite corner, minding his own business as he worked on his artwork was Zayn.

            I don't know why its halfway through the year and I am just now noticing he is in this class. Louis and I have sat at this table since day one. The table is away from the others in the room. I never pay much attention to anyone else. I guess now that I have actually talked to him, I noticed him unlike the days in the past.

            I can see why he is so unnoticeable. He is just sitting over there by himself, all quiet, full attention on the paper lying in front of him.

            I look at Louis and go to say something, but he beats me to it, "Do you know him?" I nod yes and reply, "Yes, I met him today on the bus, and helped him. "I watch Louis' face brighten a bit and he stands up. "W...what are you doing Lou?" I start to panic. He probably doesn't even remember me. I can't go over there, Louis sit your ass down! All these negative thoughts come rushing to my mind; I hate them with a passion. All I want is positive thoughts, but in situations like this, there is no such thing.

            I am not attracted to Zayn. I don't feel all fluffy inside, I never had. I don't think I'm able to feel anything like that. I don't think I will allow myself to, no boy will ever think of me as anything other than a friend, that is if I'm lucky.

            "Come on Avery, he's a nice dude, you need to make some more friends," Louis begs leaning over the table at me. He's right, I need more friends, but I am just too nervous on getting told to "get lost" or just getting the look of disgust. "No Louis, I think I am just going to stay here, he probably doesn't even rem_"

            "Shut up Avery and come on!" Louis says in a playful tone. He takes my hand and before I can open my mouth to decline, Louis is dragging me over there. He is determined to get me socializing with new people and make new friends, or he will bust trying.