Senioritis 2

Mary Parker

Mrs Bowen's classroom always smelt of freshly baked cookies at the beginning of each week. It was the same routine every Monday - you walked in, made eye contact with a few other half-asleep middle schoolers, walked over to Mrs Bowen's desk to grab your cookie, smiled at her and made your way back to your seat.

Peter couldn't stand Geography, but he could stand that hour on a Monday morning where he got to forget about all his troubles while coloring states on a map of the USA. A dull, but time fulfilling task for a bunch of thirteen year olds.

Peter never really wanted to make conversation with his Geography teacher. He always just wanted to take his cookie and go. But this time, she smiled at him eagerly, pushing her thick circular glasses up her nose.

"How are you today, Peter?" Mrs Bowen chirped, her grey-ish hair bobbing near her shoulders.

"Fine." Peter said meekly, adjusting the grip of his backpack on his shoulder.

If fine means crying for an hour in my room before school, while Uncle Ben and Aunt May scream at each other in the kitchen.

He was pretty sure May had threatened to hit Uncle Ben with a saucepan - he couldn't remember. But she'd wiped hot tears from her face while ordering Peter to put on his shoes and get all his stuff ready, before dropping him off at school on her way to work.

And Peter never really said much. Or asked May why she and Uncle Ben were always fighting. Because what would be the point? He'd likely to be told not to worry his mind about them.

So he never did.

"You can take an extra cookie, Peter." Mrs Bowen whispered, reaching over to squeeze his arm.

Peter couldn't figure out why she thought it was necessary to touch him, but he appreciated her sympathy anyway. He sighed before taking another cookie and a napkin, hesitantly making his way over to a two-person desk near the corner of the classroom.

Michelle was always there early. Drawing something other-worldly in her notebook and never looking up at Peter. That's what all the girls in his class often did - pretend that the boys didn't exist, as if they had some kind of disease, or something.

Peter disliked the sound his chair made whenever he dragged it out, but he persevered and took his seat next to her, taking a bite from his cookie.

He'd liked sitting next to Greg much better. He actually said things that we're interesting, and made him laugh. Michelle just sat there, staring aimlessly at the board or laughing obnoxiously at the occasional funny thing that Mrs Bowen said.

Peter got out his own notebook and a couple pens from his pocket, before looking into his bag and sighing.

He'd forgotten his colored pencils. Essential for surviving a whole sixty minutes of being lectured non-stop about active volcanoes and plate boundaries.

Before he could feel sorry for himself, Michelle had already poured out her own set of Prismacolor pencils in between them both.

"You can use them." She finally said, nonchalantly. "Just don't press too hard like you always do and ruin them. Break one of them, and we'll have a problem."

Peter swallowed.

"Thanks." He said, feeling himself turn a little red because not only had a girl talked to him, but she'd made a kind gesture...even though it was a little passive aggressive.

And then he thought about how she'd probably been watching how he colored this whole time, and suddenly felt even more uncomfortable.

He picked up a light blue pencil and opened to his map of the British Isles before beginning to shade in Scotland, trying to be as careful as he could with the pencil.