On Monday, Nolan was late.
I stared at the unoccupied desk next to mine.
Miss Wheeler had started her lesson five minutes ago, but he still wasn't here.
Nolan was never late to first period. He was always among the earliest, and he was always already asleep at his desk whenever I saw him.
Had something happened? Was he still sick? But when Miss Wheeler had carried out roll call earlier, she hadn't seemed to have anticipated Nolan's absence and had looked annoyed that he wasn't here.
"Now, by the 19th century—"
"Sorry I'm late."
Everyone's head turned in the direction of the interrupting voice. Nolan stepped through the doorway, looking more bored than apologetic.
Without skipping a beat, Miss Wheeler said, "Please stay behind after class, Nolan. I'd like a word with you. In the meantime, take your seat."
Out of all the teachers in school, Miss Wheeler was the one who disliked Nolan the most. She took her classes seriously, and if you didn't, she'd have it out for you. It probably didn't help that aside from Mr. Jameson, she was one of the youngest teachers in school. At the start, students tried to challenge her authority because she looked young and inexperienced. All of those who talked back or attempted to even joke around in her classes immediately got slapped with a detention, and if she was in a foul enough mood, a visit to the headmaster's office.
When Nolan got to his desk, his dark eyebags became much more visible. He had the whole weekend to rest, and he still hadn't slept well? As he was sitting down, he caught me looking at him and gave me a small nod.
I glanced to the front of the classroom to make sure Miss Wheeler wasn't looking. She'd already returned her attention to the whiteboard and was resuming her droning.
"Hi," I whispered.
He paused for a second.
"Hi," he whispered back.
I had to fight the urge to gawk at him—I really wasn't expecting him to reply to me. It felt like something miraculous had just happened. "Are you okay?"
There was another pause. "Yeah."
Before I could say anything else, he had put his head down on the desk, using his arms as a pillow—as usual.
Some things never change.
I resumed my blank stare at Miss Wheeler as she continued with her lesson.
The bell for the end of first period rang just as I was certain that I was about to die of boredom. After informing us of our assignment, Miss Wheeler swiftly dismissed the class. That was one thing I liked about her—she was a no-nonsense teacher with a no-frills teaching style that ended her lessons either a little early or on time.
Beside me, Nolan's head slowly rose.
As students started leaving the classroom, some girls from the other end of the classroom made their way towards our desks. Having finished tossing all my stationery into my bag, I got up and started for the door.
As I walked on, one of the girls said, "Hey, Nolan. I was surprised to see you late for class today."
"Yeah," another girl said. "Are you okay?"
What gives? I couldn't help wondering what gave them the courage to walk up to him. Normally, they wouldn't even dare to step within a three-foot radius of him.
"Hey, Nolan?" the first voice I heard said.
"Where are you going?"
I couldn't help it; I was too curious for my own good. I had to know what was going on! I casually tilted my head back halfway to see Nolan walking past them, eyes focused on the front of the room as if the other girls weren't even standing right before him.
YOU ARE READING
You Are the Shell to My Tortoise | ✓
Novela JuvenilNolan, an unapproachable guy who ignores the existence of all his schoolmates, sleeps in all of his classes. Normally, this wouldn't be Chelsea Arnold's problem--she does her best to pay attention in class and attends gym like a good, normal student...