Perfectly Faulted

Chapter 5

Now for a picture of Ryan...

_________________________________________________________

This morning, the moment I walk into the brick building of doom called school, the bell rings. I run to math class, which happens to be on the other end of the school, on the third floor. Perfect. I really think that Mrs. Flomer, the math teacher, is sort of bipolar; she can be kind enough, or really mean. I really do not want to get on her bad side by arriving late to class, and for some reason, she seems not to like me very much. Evan is sick today, so she isn't here to help me on my quest to arrive on time. Unfortunately, the mission fails, and when I try to open the door, it is locked. I knock, and the girl sitting closest to the entrance rolls her eyes, giving a significant look to her friend, then opens the door unenthusiastically. Well, I'm sorry, I think to myself. Some people are just naturally impolite and insulting. As if somehow, when they were created, too much rudeness was poured into the batter, too much shallowness, and not enough of the good stuff. Mrs. Flomer's booming voice pops my thought bubble, and I quickly turn my head to look at her.

"Good morning, Skyla," she says in a sweet and sticky way. So you decided to pretend to like me today, I say to myself quietly. However, she is not finished. "We were just looking for a person to tutor this dear student. He just transfered to your class today, and he needs some help in math. Since no one was volunteering, it seems that you came at the perfect moment. You're excellent in math, aren't you? Good. I do hope you two get along."

With that, she turns around to face the board, and starts explaining some geometrical theorem as if I no longer exist. What fun; I get to tutor someone, who will probably pay absolutely no attention to what I tell them or to the advice I give them. This is going to be a very long year. I steal a glance at the new kid in our class, who is sitting in the corner of the room, jotting down notes, or maybe doodling. His long, straight, brown bangs hang down by his face as he lowers his head to write, but then he looks up at me. It's Ryan. He's the guy I have to tutor. His green eyes shine as he directs his gaze towards me, and his lips form a hint of a smile. Hey, maybe this won't be so bad after all.

I sit down at the last empty desk, located next to a window. I look outside at the road, the cars, people taking a walk, strolling down the sidewalks. I wish that I could be out there instead of cooped up in here, where I keep hearing whispers around me.

"Would you look at that? The emo nerd and the freak show are going to work together! How sweet," drawls Andrea. Mrs. Flomer picks up on what she says and spins around to glare at her.

"One more word from you, Miss Banks, and you will be meeting me on Saturday in detention." This is met with an eye roll and a sigh from Andrea, who twists a lock of her blond hair carelessly. Whenever she gets a detention, her parents call the school, insisting that their sweet little daughter is nothing but an angel, and that the detention was all a misunderstanding. Because of their wealth and all of the money that they give the school, they always get away with this.

I shake my head, annoyed by Andrea, and start the math problem that is assigned to us. As I work, I wonder why Ryan suddenly ended up in our class. Then, when I think about it, it seems pretty obvious. Boris and his stupid followers were in his class. Something must have happened between them that had forced the administration to separate them. I quickly look towards Ryan, silently hoping that he is alright.

Class ends and I rush to get to Ryan. "Hey, do you want to meet up later? You know, for your first tutoring session?"

"Okay. Where?" he asks, pushing his bangs to the side.

"Well there's this place, its really close to the school, and I think that it'll be nice to work there. Do you like frozen yogurt?"

His eyes brighten and he grins. "Of course! Who doesn't?"

"Perfect! I'll meet you after last  period in front of the school, okay? We can walk there."

"Sounds good," Ryan replies.

We walk to our next class, English, which is filled with an hour of reading Shakespeare and analysing his writing. Seriously though, I don't think that anyone actually spoke the way Shakespeare did back then, so what was the point of him writing his plays this way? That man was a strange one. His language was weird, but he became a legend. I noticed that I had been drawing as I was thinking, some mess of roses and designs that didn't look too bad, actually. Ryan, who is sitting on my right, leans over and whispers "You draw well." 

I don't know why, but for some reason when he says this, I feel a surge of joy. Possibly because other than my dad and Evan, no one ever compliments me. Ever. It feels nice to be appreciated, so I whisper back a small "Thanks."

The hours pass, and I keep looking at the clock, waiting for the day to end. At 3:30, the bell finally rings, and I head to my locker to get my stuff. I try to hurry, not wanting for him to have to wait for me for a long time. When I head out the front doors, he is already waiting for me, standing alone, leaning against the weeping willow tree with his backpack on the the ground beside him. I walk towards him, and he grabs his bag.

"It's this way," I say, pointing to the left. "The place is called Orange Blossom; it's just down the road."

We head to the fro-yo place, drowning in a silence that neither of us really knows how to break.

"How was your day?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.

"Okay. You?"

"It was alright. Better than most," I reply hesitantly.

"Why?" Ryan asks curiously.

"Not too much teasing today. The Monsters didn't bother me as much as usual."

"Monsters?" Oh right. He's new to the school; he doesn't know much about the way things work here. I explain the cliques to him, but when I am finished, he asks "Why would they make fun of you?"

"I don't know," I say. For now, I don't want to go into the Marilyn story until I can fully trust him. I don't want him to... pity me, I guess. At least, I don't want him to worry about me. Or if he ends up not being that type of guy, I don't want him to think I'm a freak like the others do. "I think that they just have a grudge against me, for some reason. It's been going on for a while."

He decides not to push the matter, and we realize that we are right in front of the entrance to Orange Blossom. He pulls open the door, holding it for me, and we both walk inside, inhaling the sweet smell of fruits, fro-yo and 100% artificial toppings. I love this place. We settle down in a corner, with a window facing the street, and set our bags down on the table. I watch Ryan as he gets a cup and serves himself from the dispensers, his messy hair covering a part of his face in a nice way. What am I thinking? We're going to be friends, and that's probably all. But I can't avoid that even though he is not muscular and hot like a few boys, I like the color of his eyes, the way that he stands, his polite way of speaking. I shake my head. I'm just his tutor, his friend. I need to have complete trust in him before we become any closer.