Out of all the days in the week, Wednesday had to be the worst for me. Right in the middle. That’s where I was now, in the middle of class distracted by the fly buzzing around the ceiling and coming dangerously close to the fan. Secretly I wanted it to hit the fan, desperate for something to happen.
Towards the front of the class was our teacher, Mr. Gregory, weakly pacing back and forth.
Mr. Gregory should’ve retired many, many years ago. His throat sounded like it was on the brink of collapsing and most of his hair had fallen away with the years. He’d taught faithfully for so long that the school board didn’t have the heart to let him go, even though his memory had a few semesters before I came. He was talking about chapter fifteen when we started twenty two days ago.
I slid my sandy ponytail back, my hair had started sticking to my neck, the small beads of sweat forming a type of glue between them. I eyed the clock again, it’d been three minutes since the last time I glanced at those black hands. I glared at them; they weren’t on my side.
Mr. Gregory stumbled over to his seat, out of breath and hopefully done with his speech. I looked at the other students to my right. Every body was slumped, heads dangerously close to their desk and on the brink of sleep. The left side was a mirror image, except for Dylan.
Dylan was always attentive. Not bright and happy, but you could tell he was aware and listening. Nothing got by him.
When he first arrived at Milwaukee High, everyone was interested. New students to us are like diamonds. Immediately rumors started from our school’s miniature clique. Claire started the one about him being in jail, with his bad-boy looks and dark hair, everyone believed it, even me.
He always avoided the clique and eventually they lost interest. He proved all their rumors wrong, but in subtle ways. There was no possibility such an excellent student could ever have gone to jail. I used to think he was cold, but he helped me when I dropped all my papers by picking up my binder upside-down.
“Thank you.” I told him in awe of being so close to him. He was so quite it felt like he wasn’t real.
“You’re welcome.” He mumbled bluntly.
He never seemed to look at anyone, not even the teachers when he was called on. I felt like the only survivor of being intrigued by him. People lost interest after two years and no show. I still had faith in him; I knew he was special.
My eyes were still on Dylan when I noticed his black ones slide over to me then jump away at the contact.
I sighed and returned to watching my fly. I traced patterns on the ceiling following it’s flight. The students were silent, even though we had permission to talk, no one had the energy. Too hot.
Forty five ticks after meeting Dylan’s dark eyes, my fly braved the fan. I gasped as the fan won, loosing sight of the poor insect. My gasp was loud in the hot silence and a few heads turned, two even raised up. I felt my bottom lip stick out farther than usual and I looked down at my thumbs.
I jumped at the near deafening screech of Dylan’s chair being pushed back. His body was tense, his hands balled into fists. Lazy heads turned from me to his direction watching as he stalked over to the back of the classroom. Despite Mr. Gregory’s protests, Dylan continued.
My eyebrows knotted in confusion. Where was he going? I thought. There’s nothing, but extra microscopes and empty cabinets back there.
Judging by his posture, Dylan knew what he was doing. He impatiently threw open one of the cabinet doors and stepped inside. My eyebrows raised.
“Out! Get out of there right now, Mr. Turner!” Mr. Gregory was trying to yell, but barely got over a whisper. I doubt Dylan even heard him.
He turned around in the close space, the cabinet perfectly fitting his height. For the first time in my life I saw the corner of his lips pull up at one side. He waved slightly in my direction, then closed the squeaking door.
The class seemed unfazed, probably thinking this was all a dream. Anthony even laid his head back on the desk, as if nothing happened. The loose skin on Mr. Gregory’s red neck jiggled as he stormed to the back of the class.
“What on Earth?” He wheezed, trying to open the door, but his crippled fingers failed him. “Luke, come open this.”
Luke dragged his feet over to Mr. Gregory and opened the thin metal door with a click. He let it swing open and I craned my neck trying to see around them, to see Dylan.
Our ancient teacher started to sway and Luke caught Mr. Gregory before he could reached the floor. My eyes ignored them, too busy staring at the empty metal cabinet.
All my edits, comments and suggestions will be in bold.
