Buzzing Hearts

According to All Known Laws of Aviation

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. It's wings are too small to get it's fat little body of the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway," Mr.Hughes, the biology teacher, droned on.

Why should I care about whether or not a bee can fly. I'm a human. Just a human teenager who wants to pass class, go do fun stuff, listen to jazz, not deal with my teacher drone on about bees for the 5th time this week.

We're on the earth sciences part of the bio course and he won't shut up about pollination and how without bees all the flowers in the world would die. I mean, yeah, I know bees are important, I'm not saying they aren't. What I'm saying is that I really should've gotten more sleep last night or Mr.Hughes should really spruce up his material as I feel my eyelids start to get heavier, fighting the urge to close leaving me unconscious in class.

After what feels like an eternal fight with myself to stay awake, I hear the bell go off signifying to everyone they need to start making their way to their next class or, if you're like me, c lunch. All I have left today is lunch then my last class of the day, band. Then I can just go home and mentally prepare for having to deal with all the annoying people in the stands who don't know how to shut up when the band performs.

We get it, you came here to see a bunch of sweaty hunks of muscle tackle other sweaty hunks of muscle in different colored shirts, but we worked just as hard as they did to be here. We too are here, on a Friday night, working our asses off on the field. I'm sick of people thinking otherwise.

There's nothing I can do though. I'm some 5'7 scrawny kid who can barely even lift a medium sized dog let alone throw a punch.

I walk out of the class, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, heading to the cafeteria making a beeline for me and Adam's table. If there's one good thing about high school, it's him. He might be on the debate team, which kind of limits our time together, but it's nice to have lunch with your best friend. Especially after dealing with jocks pushing you around the rest of the day.

Of course Junior year of all years me and him only get put in 2 classes together, Pre-Calc and English. As I arrive at the table I curse my ability to read him like a book.

"Oh no, you're making that face again. You only make that face when they look at me and I know they have lunch with us. No way they're looking at me again." Silence, just the same look on his face.

"Please say they're not looking at me again." Still, nothing.

"They're looking at me again aren't they?" He nodded.

"Yep. And they're whispering something too. I'm not sure what though. Normally they just stare and pretend they aren't. The whispering is new. You think it has anything to do with the game tonight?" I dropped onto the metal cafeteria table bench, reaching into my yellow backpack to grab the bag that held my lunch.

Plopping the brown lunch bag on the table, I proceeded to drop my head and plead that they'd look away soon.

"I hope not. If those stupid jocks do anything to mess with the half time performance I swear I'll find a way to get them off that team. I don't care how. The last time they messed with us the instruments smelt like tomatoes for weeks and I'm pretty sure seeds still come out of Betsy's trombone if she blows too hard," I huffed.

I was the only one not targeted, but we all knew it was the jocks. They make us use the same locker rooms before every game as them and every time we leave them alone with our instruments for even a second they get messed up. All but mine thank god. I assume it's because they're saving something big for me. And if the way Adam's been saying they've been looking at me is any indication, they've got something big planned.