by Tiffany King
Sam sat in the easy chair next to the daybed where I was perched.
No folding chairs for private school, I thought as I studied the rich hardwood planks that made up the floors throughout the room. I shook my head slightly, thinking that even the flooring in this school was a far cry from the cracked linoleum floors that covered every square foot of flooring in my old high school.
“I’m sorry I walked away from you,” I finally blurted, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“That’s okay. I could tell that those guys embarrassed you. I could see it affecting you, trust me, I can relate. My nerves sometimes become frazzled in embarrassing situations, too.”
“Um yeah, but mine seem to be worse than most people,” I said understated. I knew for a fact that no one had emotions like mine.
“Well, you might be surprised,” Sam said.
I shrugged it off not wanting to alienate myself with my new friend. There was no reason to show what a freak I was.
“Believe me; I’ve felt that way many times over the years.” Sam said so empathetically, that for a brief moment I had the crazy notion that maybe she did know what I was going through.
I shook my head at my stupidity. I had once tried to look it up on the Internet, and many diseases showed similar symptoms to mine, but none of them were a perfect match. The doctors my parents took me to ran countless tests, but everything turned out inconclusive. They had planned on taking me to the Mayo clinic, but I pleaded with them to just give it a rest. I was sick of being poked and probed. After that, my parents tried to make light of my sensitivity issues and told me I was one of a kind. I had come to terms with the fact that I would always be a freak, and as long as I didn’t humiliate myself by throwing-up in front of others I could live with it.
I thought about confiding in her just how out of control my emotions could get, but figured I would wait before I showed my true freakish emotions around her.
Sensing my mixed feelings, Sam changed the subject.
“So have you lived in Santa Cruz your whole life?” She asked.
“Um, no. We moved here a few weeks ago. I like it a lot and the weather is unreal.”
“Yeah it’s definitely easy to get used to. I’ve been here for awhile and have become quite spoiled wearing shorts most of the year. Of course I don’t get much of chance to wear them here at this prep party,” she said with a slight edge.
“You don’t like it here?”
“Well, it’s definitely not my ideal school choice, but my foster mom went here, and she was so excited when I got in, I didn’t want to bust her bubble.”
“Foster mom?’ I asked, not wanting to intrude.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. I’ve been in foster care pretty much my whole life. This new set is pretty cool though, and it looks like they’re going to keep me until I’m legal, which is sweet because it’s a drag to constantly pack up your crap to move to a new location.”
I could tell it wasn’t quite as blasé as she was making it, but I didn’t push the subject.
Briiiiing.
I jumped as the bell above my cot rang.
I glanced at my watch, shocked; we had spent all of our homeroom period talking. I was never one to skip class, so I was surprised that I didn’t feel guilty about skipping. Maybe it was the fact that this seemed to be so much more important than some class. After all, I had just met a girl who I could finally relate to. The mere idea of it was too cool.
We scrambled to our feet, grabbing our book bags off the wood floors. With wide smiles on our faces, we both raced out the door together.
Even though the clinic was hopping with students trying to get out of class, the school nurse noticed our hasty departure and yelled after us.
“You girls better hurry.”
“We will,” Sam yelled back over her shoulder.
“What’s your first class?” Sam asked, trying to catch her breath after we finally slowed down.
“Let me see,” I said, pulling my schedule out of the front pocket of my book bag. I handed it over to her.
“Oh good, we share all the same classes, except fourth period. That works out great; fourth period is just before lunch. We can meet back up and eat lunch together.”
I was relieved to hear that Sam shared most of my classes. Though I was a little disappointed our schedules didn’t match up completely, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I glanced at my schedule and was relieved that I at least had Reading for fourth period. Reading was of course my best subject, and at least I could bury my nose in a book during class. Most reading teachers expected the same thing, read a story and either write a report on it, or answer a series of questions.
Sam glanced over and looked at my schedule.
“At least you have Mrs. Rod for reading. She’s a piece of cake as long as you bring your own book. She assigns an essay every six weeks on the book you're reading, grades it, then averages the grades together, and that’s your grade for the class,” she said confirming my thoughts. “That’s if you like to read.”
“I love to read,” I replied once again, surprised that here was something else we had in common. I could tell by the look on Sam’s face that she was surprised also.
We made it to first period just as the bell rang. Sam slid in her seat in the back of the room, while I waited up at the front for the teacher.
As the room filled up, I could feel the many stares of the other students in the class. I felt my face start to flush as I studied the ground. I hated being the center of attention and would have welcomed it if the ground opened up and swallowed me whole. Then I remembered Sam was in the class, I looked up and met the many stares head on. I scanned the faces; finally settling on Sam’s and felt my panic begin to subside as I realized that for the first time ever that I was not alone in school.
As if she could read my mind, Sam smiled at me and made a crooked face at the back of all the students watching me.
I almost laughed out loud, but managed to stifle it before it could erupt out of me. I couldn’t contain the wide smile that spread across my face.
I noticed that a few of the boys in the class sat up straighter and looked at me appreciatively like my smile was for them. More than a few of them leered at me in a more vulgar way.
I choked back a half-laugh at their looks; I wouldn’t give them the time of day. I was only interested in one guy, and though I knew it was juvenile to carry a torch for some dream guy, I couldn’t help myself.
I was assigned to a seat that was in the back and two rows away from Sam’s. I was relieved that it was in the back of the room. My moment of bravery had faded and I was more than ready for everyone to stop staring at me.
First period dragged. I had taken all the math classes required at my previous school, but St. Briggets expected me to take four years of math to graduate. The math was easy and I could have done the problems in my sleep. I finished the twenty problems with half the period still remaining. I glanced at Sam; she had her nose already buried in a book she had pulled out of her bag.
Usually, I would pretend to continue working so that I would not attract attention to myself, but as I watched Sam reading, I decided to follow suit. I was going to try to turn over a new leaf and stop trying to fade into the background so much.
With Sam’s help, I made it through the next two classes, and by fourth period I was ready to tackle it alone. Sam’s positive attitude was beginning to rub off on me and I felt surprisingly confident. We had sat next to each other in the last two classes and passed the time by sneaking notes back and forth.
We split up outside Mrs. Rod’s class.
“I’ll meet you in front of the cafeteria,” Sam said as she hurried off to her own class.
Mrs. Rod was at her desk when I entered the room. She handed me back my schedule and explained the simple class rules, and then told me to choose a seat anywhere.
In typical fashion, I chose a seat in the back of the room and pulled out my current book. T
humbing it open to the page I left off on, I started to read until I realized I really wasn’t paying attention to it.
My mind was preoccupied by the things Sam and I seemed to share. It was just a little wacky that we had so much in common. Like the fact that she had been in foster care, and I was adopted. It seemed odd that both of us were being raised by people other than our real parents. That, combined with the fact that Sam claimed to have emotional issues also… Were adopted kids just more sensitive, and did I just have a stronger case of it?
“He’s a babe,” a short mousy looking girl all but squealed to her seat mate. “Have you seen him?” she asked.
My thoughts were interrupted by a conversation going on in front of me.
“Yeah, I saw him. He’s totally hot, he looks barely older than us, but he has to be older, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to intern here. I bet he’s no older than twenty though,” replied her seatmate.
“I don’t care how old he is,” piped in a third voice, “I would love to spend some quality detention time with him.”
I couldn’t believe they were talking about an intern like that, he was practically their teacher. I thought it showed bad taste to be panting after some teacher. I was raised to respect my teachers and to treat them like you would treat a parent.
I shot a look of disgust at them and then re-opened my book. This time I was able to lose myself in the pages and before I knew it the bell was ringing.
I gathered up my things and headed out of the room ready to distance myself from the gossiping girls. They had talked through the whole period, and though I had been able to tune out their words, their annoying voices were harder to ignore.
Sam was waiting for me right where she said she would be.
“Do you buy or brown bag it?” she asked.
“Brown bag,” I said, holding up my lunch for her to see.
“Good! Me too, let’s eat outside, it’s a nice day.”
Everyone had the same idea and many of the seats were taken up outside. We headed for a big oak tree and settled under it.
“We could never do this at my old school.”
“Where was your old school?” Sam asked.
“A pinpoint town on a map, called Bozeman.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s way up north in Monta….”
“Oh my God, he is so gorgeous…” squealed a nearby voice.
I barely controlled my groan. Great. The gossip hounds were back and they were obviously still talking about the new intern.
Sam laughed at the look on my face. “I see you’ve met our Lush Trio,” she said in a low voice.
I let out a loud unexpected snort of laughter. My burst momentarily snagged the attention of the trio. They turned and glared at me for a moment, like I was unworthy to interrupt their conversation.
“Lush Trio, that’s perfect,” I told Sam in a quieter voice.
“It fits them to a tee. They are always discussing some guy or texting each other pictures of some guy that grabs their attention.”
I looked over and sure enough, they were huddled around one of their phones, obviously looking at the picture of the Hot Intern. I was surprised they had their cell phones out. In my old school, cell phones had to stay in your book bag all day with the ringer off. If a teacher saw your phone out, or heard it ringing, they would confiscate it.
I commented on this to Sam. “Oh they tried to set the same rules here, but after a few angry calls from some of the parents, the Dean changed his mind. You’re still supposed to have them off during class time, but nobody listens, they just turn the volume down.”
“My mom would have a stroke if she caught me ogling a teacher or an intern,” I said a little louder than intended.
My remark gained the attention of the trio once again.
Sam and I snorted at the trio’s obvious disgust as they stalked away. I was definitely not winning any brownie points with them.
After the trio’s departure, Sam and I talked about trivial things. Favorite books, movies, and other likes and dislikes. We were amazed at the many ways we were alike, and joked that we could be long lost twins, separated at birth.
“I’d buy it if we looked even remotely alike,” Sam quipped.
She had a point. I was nearly 5’ 8”, almost 7” taller than her. Not to mention the fact that she was cute and petite and looked like she belonged on some football field, cheering her team on. Plus, she had movie star brown hair that swung from her shoulder like an advertisement for a shampoo commercial. Her skin glowed from a natural tan, which helped to accentuate her warm brown eyes. If she was taller, she would have made a great model. I felt extremely plain, just standing next to her.
The bell rang as we finished our lunch. Tossing our trash in a wooden trash barrel, we headed toward our fifth period class. We would finally meet the much talked about young male intern that had all the girls buzzing throughout the school.
Sam and I choose seats together. Sam pulled out her book while I took out a notebook.
This was my first world history class, and I was looking forward to it. I was a secret history buff and enjoyed learning about other countries. My mom and I often watched the History channel together at night.
I looked over at Sam to ask her a question, but she was already engrossed in her book. Deciding not to interrupt her, I pulled out a pen and started doodling in the margin of my paper.
I knew the instant the new intern walked in the door. Every girl except for Sam and I seemed to sigh. “Oh brother,” I muttered without looking up.
Sam stifled a snigger as she continued to read, she had also heard the sigh of adoration from all the girls.
“All right, no books needed today. Instead, we’re going to do a warm up exercise to get to know each other,” said a warm masculine voice.
Chapter 3
I looked up in surprise; the voice seemed so familiar. I raised my eyes and found them locked on the warmest brown eyes I had ever seen. They were like pools of hot melted chocolate. I felt like I was swimming in them. Finally pulling my eyes away from his, I scanned the rest of his face. All the girls were right; he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His lips were full and inviting with cheekbones just high enough for his perfectly chiseled face to give him a gentle ruggedness. I wondered if his golden honey colored skin was as soft and warm as it looked. His light auburn hair was just long enough to run my fingers through.
Wait a minute. This is a teacher, well, almost a teacher but still, to be sitting here daydreaming about touching his skin and running my fingers through his hair? What was wrong with me? I have never looked at another guy like this, and here I was fantasizing about my teacher. Except that, he didn’t look like a typical teacher. He looked only slightly older than the students sitting in his class. I knew that was no excuse, but I was desperately trying to justify my strange reaction to him.
I looked down at my desk to regain my dignity, and then glanced over at Sam, who gave me a puzzled look. She seemed to sense that something was going on. I looked away so Sam could not read my face.
I heard the scratching of chalk and looked up as he wrote his name on the board. Mark Russo. A regular name for a regular guy, I thought. “Just a regular guy, regular guy, regular guy,” I chanted to myself. If he’s a regular guy, why is my heart racing like I ran a marathon? It was true; my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. My mom had encouraged me to give others a chance, but this was ridiculous and surely not what she had in mind.
“I’m going to write a few things about myself on the board and while I do that, I want you to answer the questions I’ve written down on the worksheet. This will help us get to know each other while I am here,” he told the class.
I was still staring at his name on the board when he turned around. I meant to look down, but it was too late. The moment his eyes met mine, it was worse than the first time. I felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of me, and had to fight to
catch my breath. The strange thing was that it seemed to affect him the same way. I could see that his knuckles had turned white where he gripped the desk. Fortunately, no one but Sam seemed to be aware that anything was going on.
He finally broke eye contact with me and began to pass out the papers. He passed them out individually instead of just handing a stack to each row to pass back.
My heart raced faster when I realized that in a moment he would be standing right beside me.
My palms began to sweat as he approached, and my breath came out in shallow gasps. I had no idea what was happening to me. I felt like a star struck celebrity watcher who was drunk off his presence.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was standing beside me. I willed myself not to look up, but I had no control. It was like some invisible force was governing my every action.
Our hands touched as he handed me the paper, and suddenly I was assaulted by a flood of unexplainable feelings of familiarity, almost as if we had already met before.
I felt myself fading away to where nothing else mattered except holding his hand and never letting go. The draw of his touch was magnetic. I didn’t know who he was, but I no longer cared.
Someone snickered behind me. “Guess she’s not the goody two-shoes she was trying to portray earlier,” said a snide voice that I recognized as one of the trio’s.
He stepped back, breaking our connection. I had to bite back a cry of distress as I felt his hand pull away. My hand suddenly felt incomplete away from his and I could see by the look on his face that he felt it also.
He walked down the rest of the aisles and made quick work of passing out the rest of the papers. I watched his retreating back, wondering what all of this could mean.
