Figuring You Out

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Three days. It had been three awful, torturous, slow days since I'd lost all courage and sped out of that cupboard all with the dulling ache of not even a playful glance during maths. A silence had ensued and it was hell on Earth. I amused a dead football under my foot whilst picking at the split packet of crisps in the middle of the table when a hand claps on my back.

"Pope wanted us to coach the year ten rugby team remember?" Liam asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," I say, shaking my tone back to natural and sliding down off the table to join him. We walk in a comfortable silence for awhile until the constant foot scuffing was threatening to drown me, "So, how's your mum?"

"Yeah, she's fine, still mad as ever," he chuckles, "How's Emily? Still going out with the slimeball?" he asks, referring to my sisters greasy haired boyfriend who thinks that combining Danny from Grease and a quadratics degree is a good idea.

"Unfortunately, so," I reply, "Why seeing is she's available?" I tease, knowing he had a thing for my sister a few years ago when puberty decided to break out.

"No," he cuts off, I chuckle and elbow him as we reach the field where a group of teens are huddled in shorts and unbuttoned shirts with loosened ties all half listening to the ramblings of their middle aged PE teacher.

"Ahh, and here are the star players, you will show them the same level of respect and attention as you show to me,"

"That's about fuck all then," Liam mutters beside me, I stifle a laugh and move towards the front with our slightly less respected Head of Year.

"Right, quick warm up and we'll move straight into a game," he instructs, the boys jog round the pitch at a moderate pace as me and Liam stretch and each grab a whistle from Pope, "How are we doing, lads?"

"Good, and yourself sir?" Liam responds all whilst we keep a watchful eye on the lagging late teens.

"All good, all good," he replies. The fuzz of his radio strapped to his side buzzes with the call of a fight and he turns to us with a pitiful yet frustrated glance, "Will you boys be alright if I go deal with this?"

"Sure," I shrug, just as he leaves and the group start returning back to us, "Split into two teams quickly no fuss,"

"Make it quick, boys," Liam adds, sternly, eyeing a couple of boys squabbling at the back. They roll their eyes but move away from each other into separate teams. They brace themselves and Liam blows his whistle, starting a game that by even my standards was good.

The game finishes with me and Liam trying to remember which team had scored which try's and eventually called it a draw before either team could kick up a fuss and start getting into scraps with each other. We send them back to the changing rooms with the keys and Pope's spare whistles as we make our way to the sixth form block for our Woodwork lesson. Whilst cutting through the cafeteria I eye a familiar setup in the form of linear books and a notepad left ownerless with just a fountain pen for company.

"I'll catch you up, I'm just getting a coffee," he nods and I pause until he is out of sight before turning and scanning the crowd for him, my eye lands on him in conversation with the head of English. I turn with my lip bitten between my teeth in a cluster of nerves and approach the seat that guards his notepad.

Can't stand the silence. Talk to me, please.

I admire my scrawled handwriting for a moment then decide its too much. I turn behind me and see that he is still talking to Mrs Green. I rip the page out briskly and pick up the pen again.

I fucked up. I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

I sit back and groan again- too pitiful. I tear it out and write once more.

I'm sorry. Text me?- O

I figured the sign off was discreet enough but I shut the leather bound book closed anyway- you can never be too careful I suppose. I turn once more and see Green stepping away as Red wanders back head still stuck in a book, I don't take another second and prance off towards our workshop.

"Did you get the coffee?" Liam asks, moving past me to get a file from the disorganised cupboard. Fuck.

"The machine broke, typical," I reply, lifting an apron around my neck to hide my reddening cheeks, he sends me a questioning look but thankfully nothing more.

"Right, on with your projects we only have a few weeks left," Mr Chaudunda lectures, we all nod and move to our individual work stations and begin filling down out chairs again.

"I haven't seen you with the nerd recently," Liam comments, keeping his eyes firmly on his work as I fly a nonchalant glance his way, "Finally got bored of Einstein's distant relative?"

"Something like that,"