05

CHAPTERS 05

This cannot be happening to me. What did I do to deserve this ? Oh right, nothing. Life just loved knocking at my door and handing me a basket filled with struggle and no remorse.

He starts to walk towards me, down the small space that separates other black desks from the others. He licks his lips, eyes shining with the torment that he’s just awaiting to unleash onto me all year. He’s closer now, only one desk away from the desk I’m sitting at.

There’s a smug look on his face and I watch in horror as he pulls the chair out that’s beside my chair. He’s preparing to sit down when someone else bumps into him, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground.

I instantly look up at the guy who knocked Weston off his feet and my eyes widen when I see that it’s Gnashton. He plops down onto the chair and scoots up, he spares me a single glance then drops his head into his arms and closes his eyes.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Gnashton is in an AP class and is sitting next to me when Weston leaps up from where he fell and realizes the class is snickering while the teacher waited for the students to get seated with irritation on her face.

« Sir behind the last desk, take a seat. You’re interrupting the start of class, » she says in her nasal voice.

I’m thankful for the teacher’s command because of the sheer amount of anger Weston displays as he glares at me as if he had something planned for me after class. He begrudgingly walks all the way to the front of the class and to another row beside the row I’m at. His desk is parallel to the teachers and far from where I’m sitting so, I’m completely and utterly grateful for Gnashton though I would never tell him that.

I look down at Gnashton whose eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted as he releases and intakes soft breaths. Looking at him this closely I realize how long his eyelashes are, like holy cow his eyelashes are long and they’re so separated. Hazel would kill for that, she always gushes gently about how eyelashes like that are so delicate, and well, I turn my head a bit, she’s right.

Piercings aren’t that attractive but the silver ring piercing that pierces his right nostril is really something. Besides his nose piercing, he also has both his ears pierced with silver rings that were tiny.

Unconsciously, I lean over to look closer at him and I see a tattoo that crawls up his neck. It’s black and I can’t make out what it is but I’m curious, as a reflex I reach towards his neck then jolt and shake my head as I swallow and feel the heat on my cheeks.

What the hell, Nik ?

Never have I ever wanted to touch someone, ever. The thought of touching anyone or anyone touching me had my heart going into an overwhelming frenzy and my anxiety flaring up to monumental proportions.

So why ? Why am I like this ?

It’s September tenth, time is ticking and my birthday is coming up. This must be birthday jitters.

« Your first warmup of the year is for you each to stand up and introduce yourself and tell us something interesting about yourself. « The teacher starts to talk and I turn to look at her. « For example, I am Mindy Fidel but you will address me as Ms. Fidel. An interesting fact is that I enjoy kayaking and hiking in the mountains. »

Students shift in their seats, many with disinterested looks on their faces.

« We will start from the row near the door and work down and repeat row by row for your introductions. Make sure you stand and speak loudly, I have hearing problems. » Ms. Fidel announces and looks at the first person sat at the desk of two.

The person begins then the second person at the desk goes and it continues like that until the person sat at the desk in front of me stands to give their introductions.

My hands are sweaty, my nerves pricking my skin, and creating goosebumps along the skin of my arms. Time ticks and I wish for the class to end but my wishes are not answered as the second person sitting at the desk in front of me stands and quickly gives their introductions. When they’re done they sit. I watch everyone’s eyes shift to look at me and my heart begins to beat quickly.

I shake as I stand up with my fingers on my left hand playing nervously with the dead skin that’s flaking off the thumb of my right hand. I peel it off as a nervous tick and hiss quietly as I draw blood and begin to bleed but I wasn’t fazed because I did this often which was horrible but it was better than my old habit of chewing off my fingernails until I bled. The sight of my own blood made me so lightheaded that I was unable to look at the blood the dripped down my thumb even now.

People begin to whisper as I stand but I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to do except pull out my notebook with shaking hands but I saw some of the blood from my finger drip onto the pages I flipped over and I inhaled a sharp breath as I stumbled back into my steel blue chair. I couldn’t look at my journal, I—

« Just skip him, he’s just a mute freak, Ms. Fidel. »