The Choices We Made [Hiatus]

Monday 11:37am

         I lightly chewed on my pen, writer's block. We were in Health-Ed and I needed to finish this worksheet on sexual protection, believe me, I don't want to do this. So I don't, I look out the window to see the Altos soccer team practicing. The coach is yelling at some guy about how he needs to work on his aim or he's off the team. The coach had been uptight about practice and perfection since they won the championship last year I think Moore Wright scored the winning goal. I see the team huddle around for a water break and they're all spraying themselves with it like it's hot, I wore shorts for a reason today it's actually not as hot as it usually is near summer.

"Daia..what's so interesting outside?" Ms. Randall's looked up from her papers with a raised eyebrow

"Nothing! Just flowers, summer ya know?" I awkwardly chuckle because I know I've said too much. Ms. Randall nods and hides back behind her papers and there are scattered chuckles and a slight cat screech. Abby Laine has the weirdest laugh but nobody says anything since her dad is assistant to the assistant of the mayor. I look back outside and look at jersey number 9. He sat back and drank water while the others practiced. I studied his black hair and his "concentrated- but-confused" face, it was cute yet concerning how his facial muscles moved. He sets his water bottle down and gets up, he does a couple of stretches and turns around. He's hot like I could just float in his calm gray eyes and cuddle into his lightly tanned arms. As if he heard everything I just said he looks at me and takes his shirt off and makes a "keep looking" kind of calm hand movement. I drop my pen.

"Shit" I mumble grabbing my pen. "Language, Ms. Zander" Ms. Randall scowls at me not looking at me. I sigh and sit back up smiling. I look down at the little I did on the worksheet and then at the time on my Apple Watch and quickly start on it before the teacher collects them all.

                                                                                       .      .     .

"Alright, class! Now time for your year-long assignment!" Says Ms. Randall in that faux enthusiastic tone they use when they think of all the papers they have to grade. The class gives a low collective groan as small conversations break out and Ms. Randall tries to get their attention and silence back. "Now I've decided to switch up the project from the last two years and I've decided on a family simulation!" The class goes dead silent, I'm sitting frantically trying to recall all the boys in my class, Xavier Briggs, the stoner, Anderson Emanuel, quiet kid, and some other boys I don't try to remember their names since I've never let it cross my mind that I may have to be their wife for the whole year! "The enthusiasm is astronomical" mumbles Ms. Randall sarcastically as the class looks around frantically but tries to act nonchalant about it.

"I have the list right here!" she grabs a clipboard off her desk and flips through and I see her expression go from "I-wish-I-could-be-anywhere-but-here-but-I'm-smiling" face to "Ah-time-to torture-my-students-but-I-wont-show-them-i'm-excited-about-this" face. "first family, Abby Laine and Greg Pearson" I see Abby's face twitch and look down as the class chuckles. "Next, Anderson Emanuel and.." She pauses squinting at the clipboard, please not me, please not me. "Adya Smith!" I exhale a silent breath "Xavier Briggs and Genesis Mathers" I zone out waiting for my name to be called I wish I hadn't been so judgy of most of the boys in my class because now I was going to have to buy a house and have kids with them! Figuratively of course but my self-esteem is becoming threatening low. "Daiana Zander and.." Wow, my first name? It's like nobody hears me when I say just call me Daia! Everything in the room slows and the next words Ms. Randall utters make my butterflies turn into rampaging elephants and I can still hear the voice echo in my head. "Remi Hayes!" I now know how Abby felt a few moments ago, my eye twitches and I cross my feet under the table, anybody would've sufficed, but him.