A sudden spur of the moment.
-
I had to be out of my mind. In fact, I must be pretty damn audacious to be in this situation that I am in right now. But my pigheadedness remained steadfast; I wasn’t one to backpedal on my decisions. A nagging thought tugged at the corner of my mind; I shrugged it off internally.
“Anne, what are you doing?” My friend’s irritable voice shattered my reverie. I was standing in the middle of the cafeteria, my food tray held up, and stoning away like an idiot-which was what people normally take me for anyway.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, breaking into quick strides. We walked over to our table that was nearest to the restrooms. Not that we wanted to be in a position that was uncomfortably near the toilet-of all places-but this was the way it was in my school. The hierarchy is unseen and unspoken, but it was always there-the popular cliques, the wannabes, and the normal nobodies. Needless to say, we fit into the “third world category”, as everyone puts it. And the nobodies can’t get the best tables in the canteen. But today this was the least of my problems.
He hung out with a group of people, not far away from our table. I don’t know if he was one of the popular people or just someone in the “middle class”. Students and their stupid analogies. I have never seen him before-and that was partially why was I staring at him. Even though I know it’s rude. His hair was dark-black I suppose, and it was carelessly styled in a messy manner, or he simply couldn’t be bothered to do anything with it when he got out of bed. He was eating in silence while his group jabbered away continuously. His head was bent low, so catching a glimpse of his face was completely impossible. The girls at his table looked like wannabes.
For the first time, I dropped my gaze to my food tray. Lunch here was hopelessly drab, even though for an elite school. I guess there were some limitations for a school that wasn’t in the city. I picked up my fork. There was a small clump of salad, a very sad looking mash potato pile, and four small sandwiches. The bread was whole meal. Not bad, I thought to myself, flipping my salad and popping some into my mouth. They tasted soggy. I picked up my napkin.
Sarah was trading gossips with her fellow girlfriends. Apparently she paid no attention to me, let alone paid a single glance in my direction. I couldn’t help but notice the food on their trays-salad, nothing else. Was I the only person who thrived off normal food?
“And like, he was so ignorant of me, despite the signs I was totally giving him,” Brigitte gushed, batting her heavily mascara-ed lashes at her fellow peers. “I mean, is he like, blind or something?” She reminded me of those heavily made up women of the old Hollywood era.
School isn’t school unless rules are broken.
“I know,” Emily, her BFF, leaned forward. I could pick up her perfume, and it was horrible, at least to my nose. Her hair was immaculately styled to that perky, preppy bob that was all the rage. “I wonder if he pays attention to anyone at all.”
I pulled out a novel from my book bag and flipped to the page that I have carefully marked with a bookmark. I believe that books should be treated with absolute dignity. Sarah then switched the topic to the upcoming spring dance, and everyone but me talked enthusiastically about it. Sure, it was coming soon-and it was part of my many worries apart from homework. If you can’t find a partner, you’re literally labeled as a loser. Same for the guys. Either that or you don’t turn up, which will make you a loser anyway. Not that I wasn’t one of them already.
My family wasn’t really extremely wealthy, but they were determined to uphold the family status. So yes, you can say that I am rich… but you haven’t seen anything yet. I don’t put a lot of stock in accessories; I could count them on my fingers. Today I had on a necklace with many charms: two dices, a four-leaf clover and a diamond studded horseshoe. Modest enough-for someone like me. I couldn’t be bothered with earrings-unless I had to go for a formal event. Like prom.
I was still reading when a hand snapped its fingers in front of my face. One thing I could not tolerate was an interruption during reading. I shut the book with a loud thud and glared at the person who did it. Rachel, a strawberry blonde who was gaining some popularity among the other cliques, somehow chose to sit with us-well not with me for sure. But today she was snapping her perfectly manicured fingers in my face for my attention.
“I do not appreciate that while I’m reading,” I said frostily. I never spoke to her, not that I need to.
“Whatever,” she said. That word was becoming so infuriatingly overused that I strongly considered stuffing my napkin into her mouth. Why can’t I just go to a school that wasn’t…elite? “I want to know if you have gotten a partner for the dance yet.”
I stared at her. Of course I haven’t. She should know. Me, the nobody, with nothing special, who is a member of the Book Club, couldn’t have done better than a girl with thick glasses and braces.
“No, why?” Being artless only aggravates her.
“We are going out this weekend to get dresses. Sarah says that she knows a tailor who does the best sewing ever.”
What does having a partner and getting a dress have in common? Sometimes my own race was so difficult to understand, let alone boys.
“I’ll let you know when I got a partner, okay?” I said hastily, just as the bell rang audibly around the hall. Saved by the bell. I immediately took off towards my next class. Being my habit, I was reading while walking, my eyes having only enough room to make out the road ahead of me above my book. It was sufficient for me to navigate my way to all my classes-but today was just too unusually unlucky for me.
I felt my shoe snagged something heavy and immobile. Oh no. I didn’t have a moment to think as the floor rushed up to meet me with as less grace possible. My arm shot out and held the wall for support, and I felt the abrupt pang of pain that tore through it due to the sudden movement. I felt the color surge to my face, flushing more effectively than ink seeping through water. My first thought was whether anyone caught a glimpse under my skirt. As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough. I straightened up with as much dignity I could muster. My book was lying next to a shoulder bag-the cause of my downfall, literally. I reached down to pick up my book, and was debating if I should pick up the bag and ask whom it belongs to when a hand beat me towards it. It was that guy I was shamelessly staring at during lunch. Now that he was holding my book in his outstretched hand, with his face in my area of vision, I saw him for the first time.
He had the vibe of the silent movie, Victorian era, yet there was a different quality to him. I didn’t quite know how to place him, but I’d say he was caught between the past and the present. His hair covered his eyes slightly, a method that only adds to his mysteriousness. His eyes were brown, and they seem to appraise me as I stood there. He wasn’t pale, nor was he tanned or olive skinned. He said nothing.
I reached out to take my book. Unintentionally, my hand brushed against his as I took it from him. A tinge of nervousness coursed through me as if I was electrocuted.
“Thank you,” I said, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I could.
I expected him to remain silent; which he did, but not before he nodded, by way of saying, “you’re welcome”, I suppose.
I should be going for class now. I didn’t know if I should wave at him. Maybe I would appear as an idiot, so I smiled tentatively in his direction and strode off down the corridor.
