Stars In Her I's

one

Christopher stared at the wall, bored out of his mind. He tried to like chemistry, he really did. It wasn't his fault that Mr. Matthews's voice was so droning. Right now he seemed to be going on about cellular respiration for the fourth time this week.

He could see that other people were bored out of their minds. He counted at least eight people diddling on their phones. Christopher suddenly wished he had actually bothered to charge his own that morning. Now he had to make up his own entertainment instead of looking at Netflix or literally anything other than fucking cellular respiration.

He picked boredly at the bottom of his desk, looking at anything but the board when he felt something papery. He felt the edges of it and slowly peeled it off.

A note.

A note taped to the bottom of the desk. Addressed to him. Written on drawing paper he'd seen some of the art geeks using.

Chris glanced around, checking for anyone who might be waiting eagerly for him to open it. All he saw were twenty more expressionless faces. Well, it must be from some other class, he guessed.

The note, written in a curly, feminine font, read as follows:

"Hello, Christopher! You don't know me, but I know you- but then again, who doesn't know you?

I've got to say, I've fallen for your eyes. The little flecks of blue and hazel in the green make them really sparkle. The curls in your hair are even better than the ones I can write! They are simply outstanding.

I've always wanted to talk to you, but I never found a way to do it. So, hello, Christopher Raven! I like your name!"

The first thing he felt was confusion. Why would anyone leave him a note? Who left it? Why would they tape it to the bottom of his desk where he had little to no chance of discovering it?

Next, he felt something resembling admiration. This person- a woman, most likely, based on the handwriting- was obviously afraid of talking to him and here she was, complimenting his eyes and his hair.

Then he felt slightly upset. He wanted to talk to this person, but he didn't know a name. He didn't have a single clue to help find this person. Chris sat there, racking his brain to figure out a solution. He decided he would probably start by asking other people who this handwriting belonged to. Hopefully, by next week he would have a name.

But he didn't want to wait till next week. He wanted something instant.

Chris furrowed his brow, making Liam, the guy next to him, think he was actually concentrating on the lesson. How can I talk to her now?

Well, this person obviously knew where he sat. Perhaps she sat there, too. It was a long shot, but he didn't have much other choice.

Chris grabbed a piece of loose leaf and began his own note:

"Hey there! My name is Christopher, as you know, but you can call me Chris. What's your name?

Thanks for the compliments on my eyes and my hair. Most other chicks like to focus on the rest of me. It's nice for someone to notice whatever the fuck seems to be going on with my eyes. I'm surprised you've gotten close enough to notice. Have we met?

Anywho, I'd really like to know your name. You seem pretty cool, and I wanna get to know you. Maybe your hair and your eyes are even better than mine. Who knows!"

"P.S.", he made the next words extra neat. "I really like the stars you do above your I's."

He ripped off the tape from the note he had gotten and used it to stick his own to the bottom of the desk.

The lesson droned on, making the hour pass slower than ever before. All he wanted was for the day to be over, excited to see if his mystery woman would write back. He could almost smell the scent of the ink on the page already.

After the class finally did end, he tossed the duffel bag he carried over his shoulder and walked out the door, sighing heavily. Why did he care so much? It was probably just some asshat playing a prank on him, and who would he even ask about this handwriting anyway? Chris thought for a few moments before the answer nearly ran into him.

"Francis!" He grabbed his friend by the shoulder and spun him around. Francis was popular with the girls, mostly due to him transferring from America. Perhaps he would know who wrote such a pretty letter. "Have you seen anyone with this handwriting?"

"What? Dude, chill-" Francis took the note and glanced over it with a mischievous sniff. "Oh. Guess you've got a secret admirer."

"Shut up and tell me if you know who wrote it."

"Dude, seriously, chill. Don't get worked up over some broad." Francis chuckled and handed the note back, smirking. "No, I haven't seen it before. Pretty, but haven't seen it." Well, there goes that trail. Even the most well-informed man for the job didn't have a clue. Francis walked off, probably to go and try to seduce some bird- maybe his newest fancy, Sasha. Whatever, he didn't need his help anyway.

Chris decided that his next step should probably be the art geeks. They all used that kind of paper, why not narrow the scope a bit.

Since the bell was just about to ring, he figured his best guess would be the art room. From what he had heard, they hung out there for hours after school, drawing and painting. Chris wandered around for a lengthy amount of time before actually finding the damned room, since he never had a need to get there before. He opened the door and took in a big breath.

He at once regretted it.

His lungs were filled with the scent of paint-tainted air. Chris could see colourful canvases around the room, half of them with people standing in front of them. A blonde girl was painting little white flowers to finish of the lilypads of her pond scene. A black-haired boy was just finishing up the dark shading on the underside of an angel's wings. A red-headed boy near the back was just beginning to colour in a great big eye he had outlined. He was just about to continue his observations when a woman with brown hair cleared her throat.

"Can I help you with anything?" She wore glasses that made her eyes look a bit buggy. Some brown hair was curled into her face. Her hair was quite long, going to about her elbow, and her glasses had a gold trim. After he made his observations, he realized that she looked quite impatient. It was then clear that he was intruding on something.

"Oh, uh, yes, actually." Chris stumbled for words while attempting to get the letter out of his jean pocket. "I, um..." He unfolded the note, handing it to the stern-looking woman. She was like steel with those eyes. "I got this note, and I remembered seeing paper like this come from the art room. I decided to come down here and ask if any of you had written it." He rocked back and forth on his heels, noticing how the red-headed boy had stopped painting and was instead staring at the floor. Weird. "So, does that handwriting look familiar to you?"