On the Edge of Comfort

On the Edge of Comfort - Chapter One

Meeting new people had always been one of my biggest fears. That strange moment of "do I talk first" or "am I supposed to be smiling here" always confused me. I just never knew how to act around people I didn't know, or people I did know even.

So when Mr. Burns said that we would be having pen pals, my heart fell into the dark ocean of my stomach. Meeting people was one thing, but writing to someone was just as bad. At least in person you can make assumptions by what someone is wearing or how they carry themselves. We were halfway through the first semester and so far I had thought that Mr. Burns' class was cool. The way he went on about his college days was fun and every week we had to read a short story that was entertaining, not something that was four hundred years old. But pen pals? That was so 1940's. Couldn't we at least do email? I mean, this was the last year of high school for all of us.

"Now, come on," Mr. Burns said brushing his mop of gray hair out of his eyes, "It's not that bad. A fellow colleague of mine at Williams and I came up with the idea. Both of our classes have the same number of students. Plus this will also help when I ask for a short story at the end of the year."

"You just want to be lazy and not have to grade us," a girl near the front said.

Mr. Burns let out a small laugh, "Sadly, that's not true," he said, "I will be reading all of the letters to make sure they are school appropriate. Remember this is an assignment. Keep it clean, guys. Actually, the point of this assignment is to make you feel uncomfortable. To have to speak with someone you've never met before. Think of it as a life lesson."

The class seemed to mull over this as Mr. Burns reached behind his desk and pulled out a cowboy hat.

"Is that your thinking cap?" someone blurted out a few rows over from me.

Mr. Burns smiled then replied, "No, my thinking cap is a colorful cap and bells, this is just something I found at the dollar store. Inside though are all the names of the class you all will be writing to."

With that, Mr. Burns began walking down the rows with each student picking a name. My palms were getting sweaty and I wiped them on my pants. This was not going to end well. Our class had around thirty students all jam packed in a tiny room. It would take a moment for Mr. Burns to get to me, but that small relief didn't help much.

"Hey," someone with frizzy hair said, "I know this guy. We played little league together."

A thought ran through my mind when I heard that. Maybe I'd draw Gerald's name. Gerald had been my friend for years. We had grown up together. He went to the sister school up the road with all the other advanced kids. But then I remembered that Mr. Burns said his colleague teaches at Williams which was halfway across town. Not Gerald's school.

By the time Mr. Burns reached my desk, I was having a mini heart attack. Please, please let me get someone I have something in common with, I silently prayed. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but I wanted something to grab onto as to not make me vomit. All the slips of paper felt the same and I could feel myself taking longer than the other students had. Pulling a slip of paper out, I took a breath and looked at the name.

Celia Mancaster.

A girl? That was even worse! Not only was I having to write a letter to someone I didn't know, but it had to be a girl. Could this day have gotten any worse?

"Okay then," Mr. Burns said, "Now that everyone has a name, you can begin your letters. I see a few of you already have. That's good. But remember keep it simple for now. Just write your name and introduce yourself. When you get done, hand your letters to me and you may leave."

People all around me seemed excited and not a few moments later some of the class was already turning in their letters while I sat looking at a blank sheet of paper and a name. My pen tapped the paper, but I couldn't get any words out. What was I supposed to say, "Hi, you don't know me, but girls scare me..." I rested my elbows on the desk and ran my fingers through my hair. I was acting so much like a middle schooler, but seriously there was just something about girls that freaked me out. With their flirty talking and the way they moved their hands when they talked.