Anyway, back to the gay shit

Chapter 2

After a lengthy period of indecisiveness, analysis of pros and cons, and just generally having no fucking idea what to do, Elise and I finally settle on the First Battle of El Alamein for our presentation. We start with some simple background research, like who was involved, where it was fought, et cetera, which brings us to the end of the period. We head off to lunch our separate ways and part with a friendly wave. It's progress, considering Elise was a complete stranger to me two hours ago.

I walk down the hallway, stop at my locker and keep going to the little courtyard in the middle of our school, where Mira and I sit for lunch. I've never really understood the whole cafeteria-hierarchy thing in all the American movies, where the table you sit at dictates your level of "coolness". It must be a) just a movie thing or b) a weird American psychological mutation. Either way, I've never seen it happen at any school here. I see Mira at a table and sit down on the least bird-poo-splattered seat, as we complain about being back at school.
"And, we've got a bloody group oral assignment and I was put with Elise." I finish telling her about my history lesson, but she looks at me with an eyebrow raised.
"Who's that again?"
"Elise Ashford. She came last year?"
"Oh, yeah, I know her. She's the one with really frizzy ginger hair, right?"
"Yeah, that's her. Interacting with her was actually less awkward than I anticipated,"
"Nice." Says Mira, nodding her head.
"Nice indeed." I reply, before tucking into my tuna sushi. We talk about various random shit, as is our custom, until the bell rings for fifth period and we walk together to our English classroom.
I grab a desk towards the back of the class and Mira quickly sits down next to me as our ancient English teacher, Mr Reeves, begins droning on about Shakespeare. Within five minutes of the lesson starting, the whole class completely loses interest, doodling on books, taking Buzzfeed quizzes, some of us reduced to just staring at him and his questionable outfit choices. Of course, this doesn't faze the man, he just keeps spewing words out of his geriatric mouth.

After the end of English I head off to maths, back in my comfort zone at last. Our teacher Mrs Halloway, a tall woman with hair badly dyed black to hide the advance of greying, stands at the front of the room as we get out our books.
"Okay, class - today we're going to start some more trigonometry, so you'll need your textbooks at page 103. Anyone need a quick refresher on Pythagoras?" She asks, genuinely inquisitive - not as if we've been doing the same stuff on the Pythagorean Theorem for the last two years. Unsurprisingly, no hands appear in the air. "Fantastic! Let's start with question 3a." We all open our books and start the exercise.
As I work out an equation, my eyes wander over to Elise in the row in front of me. She's just so... not exactly hot, more like cute. The kind of person I'd just like to cuddle and play with her hair. Or walk along a beach at sunset, holding each other's hands. Or lie down beside her in a field of sunflowers...
Wait, wait. What was that? It feels like I was drunk with love. See, I've never really had a crush before - is this what it feels like? Wow. It feels nice, like my heart getting wrapped up in a warm blanket. But also kind of sad, like I'm just going to have to keep waiting with this feeling... this feeling that's so good but ultimately won't have any results.
Anyway, gotta focus. Maths. Pythagoras. What's 27 squared? 625? No, that's 25 squared. I grab my calculator and punch in the numbers. 729. Okay. Well a-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared, aaaaaand... it comes out with 10 decimal places. Of course it does. This is going to be one long maths lesson, especially with Elise's fluffy, orange hair less than two feet in front of me. She's so adorable, I can't even.

The bell finally rings at 3 o'clock to mark the end of our first day back at school. I walk to my locker, exhausted, and see Mira at her locker a couple down from mine. We say goodbye to each other, and hug one last time before I head off to find Michael.

I walk down to the bus stop with Michael, pointing out all the major things along the way. ("This road's light changes quickly - make sure to run. There's a shortcut through there, but it's a bit dodgy. Down that street there's a good cafe") We hop on the bus and take seats near the front, but the second the bus starts moving, a group of boys cluster in the aisle. They're all enormous - over 6 foot - and could probably bench press me easily, except for one. I notice him last, what with his gorilla friends surrounding him, but he looks like just as much of a twat. He's around five foot five with a slight build, his dark brown hair looking in desperate need of a wash. Grey eyes narrowed, he stands peering down his nose at us with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He growls at Michael. We both look at him blankly - neither of us have any idea what's going on. "Get your arse off my seat, little shit!" Michael shifts his weight and stammers incoherently, stunned with fright. The huge guys on either side of  him crack their knuckles. "What, don't you speak English? GET OFF MY SEAT, YOU ORIENTAL-" he doesn't finish the sentence. I spring up and jump in front of Michael, fuming, and spit in his face, wet drops flying everywhere. One of the knuckle-crackers rounds on me and raises his fist, as if about to sock me in the face, but the shorter guy holds him back. "Let her go, you wouldn't want to hit a girl. She could sue you for harassment or some shit when you're 40," this draws a hearty laugh from the group. At this, I snap. Grabbing Michael by the hand, I pull him away from the guys.
"Come on," I say, "Let's go sit far away from these racist, sexist pricks." I turn back around, looking the leader directly in the eyes. "Oh, and also - you'll never get a date if you carry on like that." I walk away, my heart pounding in my ears.