Hold on and Hope

the one and only

Harrison

I've had this thought replaying over and over for a while, as if it were a broken record player spinning round and round. It was as if the music coming out was deafening, and I couldn't even hear my own thoughts anymore.

I know her.

Well, I don't exactly know her. I know who she is, I know what classes she has, and I know she usually locks herself in a toilet stall during her free periods. But I don't know her how only someone who deserves to know her would. And that's what worries me, no one deserves her.

Unlike many people who I seem to be friends with, she's reserved, almost too reserved. She doesn't speak in class, although I know she's extremely clever.

I sound like such a creep.

I'm not a creep, but I'd like to say I'm quite an observant person. I notice things that other people generally wouldn't, and that's why I notice her. And that there's something wrong.

She hasn't showed up yet, which isn't strange as she's usually later than everyone else to class.

I take my pen out my bag and lightly chew the end of it, a habit I know I should stop.

The bell rings loudly, echoing around the room. The teacher rushes in, holding a laptop and some neat files placed on top. A couple of students follow him in, making their way to their chosen seats.

But still, she doesn't walk in.

The teacher starts talking about something quite irrelevant in my opinion, and I instantly lose focus in the class. Even if I wanted to pay attention, I wouldn't be able to.

"Your essays on power and conflict will be due in on-". The teacher continues, when suddenly the door opens and the class falls completely silent.

There she is, standing with a face from a magazine.

I hadn't noticed my foot rapidly beating against the floor in an anxious manner until now.

The girl with the pretty brown eyes walks towards me, and then turns slightly, sitting down at the desk in front of mine. She looks at everyone, but doesn't make eye contact with anyone.

She places her ruined backpack on the floor, and shakes slightly, allowing her old jacket to fall down her arms and onto the back of her chair. Every movement she makes is full of grace.

The class is still deadly silent, and she lets out a small cough, filling the empty void.

"As I was saying..." the teacher continues, shaken out of his annoyed trance. The atmosphere begins to settle back to its norm, and I let out the breath I was holding.

I quietly lean forward, and gently tap her back, making contact with her soft dark hair. "Maisie." I whisper.

She turns around and looks at me, disconnecting to the lesson and handing me her full attention.

"Have you got a spare pen, mines run out?"

No it hasn't.

"Let me check." She whispers back, her soft smooth voice causing a relaxing feeling in the air.

She pulls her bag up and I notice how many rips it's got on it. It's dirty and there's... burn marks? Why would she have burn marks on her bag? The only possible reason I could think of is if she smokes or has a lighter for some reason.

"Here you go." She holds the pen out towards me and I take it, lightly making contact with her hand as I do.

"Thank you." I whisper, giving her a warm smile.