Hours

20- Thursday, May 17th

9:16 AM

I run into class late. Really late, 15 minutes late. That never happens.

That dream really got to me. I spent far too long in the bathroom after I woke up, staring at myself in the mirror. This isn't normal. This doesn't happen. I like to be in control, I like to know what's happening. Falling through the air at the speed of sound should terrify me, but I was so calm. Like everything was normal.

Well, that's the exact opposite of the truth, isn't it? Nothing is normal. Normal would be movie night with Ashley and Lindsay, normal would be partnering with Amelia, ignoring Micheal in the halls, walking at the lookout alone. Normal is not these dreams. Normal is not a lack of control.

As I walk into homeroom, Micheal looks up at me and smiles.

I don't think I like normal.

"Hey." I say as I slide into my seat beside him, dropping my bag on the ground by the feet of my chair.

"Hey. You're late?" He phrases it like a question, like he's just as confused about it as I am. Three days, and he already knows me better than Amelia ever did. She wouldn't say anything if I was late, just assume I was making out with some jock in the hallway.

That's what Lindsay and Ashley would be doing. That's what Amelia would be doing. Hell, they'd likely skip class, not even bothering to show up late.

To tell the truth, I've never skipped a class. I always knew I wanted to do something with my life, though I never knew what it was. All I knew is that skipping was not going to get me there. So, I didn't. Looking at Micheal, I know he's only ever skipped class when he had an... important reason. And that's only for as long as I've known him. I doubt he's ever skipped. Has he?

For some reason, I want to know.

And I realize in an instant that I want to know everything about him. I want to know his plans in life, his aspirations. I want to know the 'boring' things, like his favourite song, colour, memory. I want to help him. And I don't want to do it because I should, or because I was told I have to by some angel in my car.

I want to help him.

I want to know him.

"Yeah," I manage to say eventually, breathing in shakily. "I, uh... lost track of time." Lame excuse. But what am I supposed to tell him? I had a bad dream? That's even more laughable. "Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah. Mr Reynolds gave us our due date." Micheal says, passing me the rubric that we had received Monday. I see, scrawled across the top in Micheals surprisingly neat handwriting, the day 'Tues. 22'.

"Tuesday? That's not so bad." I say, rereading the rubric for something to do. "What do we have done?" I ask.

"Well... we've both read the book." Micheal jokes awkwardly.

"And..." I start, hoping for him to finish my sentence with something a bit more hopeful.

"And that's about it."

Well then.

"I see." I pull out my binder, hoping to find a sheet with some work we've done on it. I do find one, but it's basically blank, although I'm relieved to see we'd already selected a theme. "Well, no, we did choose our theme, so that's something! All that's left is-"

"Write the report and make the presentation." Micheal finishes, looking, for his part, not entirely hopeless.

"We can do that. I have time to work on it tonight, and if we work through this period..."

"We won't have to work on the weekend and can practice tomorrow and Monday!" Micheal nods, a smile growing on his face. I have to look away to keep myself from fully grinning at the look on his face. It's not foolish, or overly joyful, but seeing Micheal smile...

I stop that thought right there. "Okay" I say, probably too brightly, "Let's go!"

~

The bell rings as Micheal and I are wrapping up, deciding who should work on what tonight. Considering how little we had, I'm amazed at how far we got this period.

As I'm walking out of class with Micheal, I hear Mr Reynolds call my name. I turn back, and see him beckoning me towards his desk.

"Just a minute, please." He says, and I turn to Micheal, shrugging.

"See you at lunch!" I call as he walks out of the classroom. I ignore his hesitation after I say that, knowing it's because of what happened yesterday. I go and stand by Mr Reynolds desk.

"I just wanted to ask you about the project." Mr Reynolds starts, looking up at me from his desk. "You and Micheal... how is that going?"

"Uh... great," I answer hesitantly, wondering if there's some other answer he's looking for. "We got a lot done today. Why?"

"Well... I know that your decision to work with him wasn't exactly..." He pauses, searching for the word. "Well it wasn't exactly unanimous, was it?"

"Not really..." I say slowly, worried about where he's taking this.

"But you two are working fine now? There's no...
Backlash?"

"Backlash?"

"I know Amelia wasn't too keen on your collaboration with Micheal." Mr Reynolds says monotonously, adding, "She told me herself."

"She did," My voice falls flat, making the question sound like a statement. I'm not surprised, everything always has to go her way, and judging by the string of texts she sent me, she wasn't overly pleased with my decision. God, why does she feel like it's her business?

"Yes. I was hoping that this partnership isn't making relations with your other friends strained," He says, speaking slowly as if trying to find the least offensive sentence.

I should say it isn't.

I should let it go.

I should just go to my next class and forget about this.

Aw, what the hell?

"You know, Mr Reynolds," I say, taking a chance and adding some criticism into my voice. "It is."

Mr Reynolds looks shocked, likely from my honestly but also probably due to my tone. "Well..." He stutters, and I can see how much I've shaken him. "I'm sorry to hear that-" I cut him off.

"Don't be. I don't care." I shrug, and it's true; I don't care. "Yeah, there's been a backlash. Yeah, it's messed with my 'other relationships'. And guess what? I don't care. I really don't. Because in the four days I've known Micheal, I've been more interested in anything he has to say than whatever dumb crap Amelia and everyone else throws around. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class." I walk towards the classroom door, feeling weirdly triumphant.

"Kayla." I stop as Mr Reynolds calls my name again. I turn around, expecting a lecture. Instead he just smiles. "I'm glad to hear that."

I smile back at him shyly before hurrying out the door to my next class.