All This Time, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Daniel

I watch the amused expression on Annabelle’s face as she lays eyes on Mr. White who is, in fact, a black man. He is in the front of the classroom going over the curriculum for history this year. Everyone looks up as I knock on the door. It’s locked because school rules require teachers to keep their doors locked at all times. So, we have to knock every five minutes. It’s annoying.

A student gets up and opens the door. As we enter the classroom, Mr. White turns his body to face us. All eyes are on us, and I self consciously slide my right foot in front of the boot on my left.

“Why were you late?” He asks. Annabelle tells him about our respective injuries before she hands him our excuse notes. He gestures for us to have a seat. The only seats left are to the side of the room, by the window and towards the back of the class. One right in front of the other. We each sit down. I set my bag on the floor, that’s when Annabelle realizes hers is missing.

“Daniel,” She whispers as she turns slightly around, “My bag. I have no idea where it is.” She just looks at me and we start to laugh. We’re quiet, but still Mr. White hears us.

“Is there something funny about the second World War?” He asks. We shake our heads and slide down into our seats a bit. Mr. White is as nice as any other guy out there. However, not to be racist, he’s black. It doesn’t matter how nice a black man is, if he tells you to be quiet, you be quiet. Especially if the man is as built as Mr. White is. Seriously, that dude’s biceps are bigger than my head.

I quickly manage to tune out the deep tones of Mr. White’s voice. I just begin to think. I’m thinking about marching band. They moved me to percussion because of my tendonitis it's lucky I’m something of a musical genius so I can pretty much pick up simple percussion. I can’t walk and play my trombone at the same time because of my leg and It sucks. I miss performing with my instrument. While I think about the new trombone case I got over the summer, I’m quickly distracted by Annabelle.

She reaches her hands back to her short, chestnut hair. It falls just to the nape of her neck. She runs her fingers through her hair, and pulls a black rubber band from her wrist. With two quick turns of her wrist, her hair tie has her hair in a secure ponytail. Annabelle made the ponytail just above the center of her head, so some of her hair falls back down to her neck. I never understood how girls could tie up their hair just like that. Lucky them, I guess. Although I can’t say I’ve ever had the desire to put my hair up like that.

“Starting today, you will be doing a research project on a Middle Eastern country. You may work in a group as big as three people, or you may work alone. I don’t suggest you do this project without a partner. It’s worth 25% of your final grade, and it’s due in four weeks.” Mr. White goes on and on about this project. We basically have to do a powerpoint on the country’s culture, their language, religious beliefs, etc. This should be absolutely torturous.

“Pick your partners, and then I’ll assign your countries,” Mr. White says as he hands out a list of countries we can choose. Annabelle twists in her seat.

“So listen, I don’t know you at all and this is kind of awkward but I don’t want to work alone, so…” Her speech comes out in a blur I let her trail off. She raises her eyebrows as if expecting me to say something.

“So…? What?” I ask. I almost snap at her. I understand what she’s asking, but my foot hurts and I feel like giving her a hard time.

“So, will you work with me?” I shrug and give a nod. Everybody else in the classroom either hates me or doesn’t know me. I don’t have any friends in this class. She’s the best chance I have.

The bell rings then, and I am relieved. The first day of school is always a drag. Except for my band class, today sucks. I liked band because Mr. Balone handed out music the very first day, so I get to go home and learn it before everybody else.

After all of my classes are done and the final bell rings, I calmly walk to my car. It’s a Buick Lacrosse, I paid for it myself by giving music lessons to people. I think the fact that I paid for it myself makes every drive just a little more satisfying, but then again, that’s just me.

As I pull out of the school parking lot, I think I spot Annabelle with her mom in a Honda. I definitely prefer Buick, but to each his own. Annabelle sits in the front seat, her head leaned on her hand. She looks like she’s talking to her Mom, her lips are moving. Whatever she’s saying, it can’t be that good. I pull up next to their car and she brightens a little. Her lips form into a small smile, and she gives a little wave. Then she turns to her Mom and points at me. Her Mom nods as if she knows who I am based on what Annabelle said about her day. I wonder if she talked about me much. But then I think that it doesn’t matter because we aren’t even friends. I know nothing about her except that her name is Annabelle Anderson, and she moved from Florida to Charlotte to here.. Oh yeah, and she isn’t in band.

The stoplight in front of the school turns green, and we both turn left. That’s kinda funny. I speed up slightly because I don’t want to be awkwardly left driving alongside someone I don’t even know. Thankfully, in a few miles my neighborhood comes into view, and Annabelle and her mother just keep on driving. It’s time to face my parents and they’ll be asking all about my first day. This should be fun.

As I pull into my driveway, I spot my mom at the mailbox. She smiles and waves at me as she scootches from the driveway. I get out of the car, and her smile only grows brighter. I do my best to turn the corners up my lips up into something that vaguely resembles a smile. I know I fail miserably based on the look my mother gives me. Great, now she’s worried about me. That never ends well.

“So your first day of school wasn’t great, huh?” She asks me. I shrug. It’s a very neutral gesture but it doesn't quite satisfy her. So we go into the house. My younger sister is sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and it makes me jealous. Allie gets home two hours before me because she is in fifth grade. She jumps up off of the sofa and gives me a quick, awkward hug.

"Hey Daniel! How was school? Did you meet a girl? Did you make any new friends? Is high school fun? Do you like it this year?" She hits me with tons of questions all at the same time and I just do my best to return the hug and set my stuff down.

"School was okay," I say to her, "Yes I met a girl but not in the way you are thinking. We're working on a project together. I don't remember the rest of your questions, and I'm sure you don't either." She grins at me and grabs her Hello Kitty book bag. I watch her run up the stairs in sock covered feet, and my mother waits until Allie is gone before she turns to me.

"So what's this about a girl?" She asks. I groan and give my eyes a slight roll. Honestly, is it so difficult to believe that I'd be stuck working on a project with some girl I don't know? Then I realize that it's not their fault. They don't know the situation. Yet.

"It's just this girl Annabelle. She's the only Sophomore transfer, and we are working on a project together. We got paired up by the teacher." I lied. Of course I lied. I wasn't going to tell my mother that I'd chosen her as a partner so I didn't have to shoulder the whole workload myself.

"Okay. Well I've got to get dinner ready, we'll eat in a few hours." I grab my book bag and carry it up the stairs, thankful that I'll finally get some peace.