Part 4: The Phone Call

Part 3: The Mix Up

She stood in front of the mirror smiling to herself as she practiced sculpting her face into a perfect expression: eyes expanded, cheeks elongated, and neck straight. She thought of what to wear to school the next day and what to say when they found themselves with time to spare between lectures. She walked herself through the conversation she would start with him and how he would respond. Her imagination ran wild with the possibilities that they had in store for their future. There wasn't a moment where she didn't catch herself smiling to herself. Although her jaws were starting to lock in place, she couldn't admit that it didn't feel amazingly good. She pictured them walking through the halls hand in hand smiling to each other as they talked about silly things that happened through out the day. How he would kiss her on the cheek just because he wanted to and she imagined the warm embrace of his arms when they would part between classes. Reality forced itself upon her when she jumped at the interrupting vibrations of her cell phone against the wooden counter. Her smile sank when she saw that Wilson was calling her. It literally became a custom for him to call her every Thursday before the History packets were due the next day. Every week she went through the uniform routine of flipping through every page to read him the answers to the countless problems that he "couldn't figure out." She sighed briefly before picking up the phone to answer him.
"Hey.. Wilson."
"I think you're going to love me after this."

The bell finally rang to dismiss him to 4th period. He had been resting his head on top of his bulky backpack for about 15 minutes staring at the clock hand's strides move slowly around the center. The mornings at school felt so long as he dreadfully waited for the moment that he would be in her presence. As he walked in he could hear her talking from a distance, her voice tickling the drums of his ears and reverberating down his spine. He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as she continued with her story.
"He's the cutest thing in the world. If only he knew that I liked him! I'd give anything to have guts like Andrea and just tell him straight up how in love with him I am."
"Girl, if you really feel that way, just go for it."
"Noooo.." she blushed, "I could never." She glanced behind her and saw him staring absent-mindedly at her with an awkward grimace on his face. "Oh," she smiled and immediately pivoted to look to the front. Kendall, her friend, chuckled and went on to complete her packet.
He didn't know what to think at that point. He felt his chances with her slip away along with the sanity he previously possessed before coming to 4th period. The shock of the revelation numbed his fingers and he couldn't even force himself to look at the packet that was due at the end of the period. The thoughts of her showering her affection towards anyone but himself pierced his soul and left him an empty corpse. He couldn't stand to look at her anymore and the muscles on his neck tightened as he kept his head lowered staring at the hearts engraved into the corners of his desk. All he could see were incomplete lines that never touched and created the illusion of a heart half filled. He felt as if the shape of his heart somehow inscribed itself onto the desk to remind him of the desires he would never be able to grasp, to hug, to comfort. The bell never rung that day, not that he could remember at least.

Part 2: People in the Hallway

       The bell rung and she got up to leave the classroom. She turned and met his face as he tried to untangle himself from his seated position. She looked down immediately briskly walking to her next class. He turned around to watch her go and felt a part of his spirit leave with her. A smirk drew over his lips and he pushed his feet off the ground to start off to the next class period. A hand made their way to his shoulders, "Don't think I didn't see that."
"What? I'm not sure what you're try'na say," he muttered discreetly trying to cover up the trembles from the pit of his stomach.
"You'll learn not to hide it soon enough," laughed Wilson, "one day you'll thank me." With that he pranced off to aimlessly chatter with someone else in the hallway. It was too crowded to make out who it was, but he could've sworn he saw the fragments of a ponytail a bit too familiar to his eyes. Still confuded by what Wilson meant by "One day you'll thank me," he shrugged off the person he was talking to and blindly walked through the halls. Something inside of him, however, couldn't feel at ease.
       "Hey girl!" shrieked Wilson as he made his way through the cramped halls to walk next to her, although she could hardly consider him next to her as their arms were awkwardly brushing against one another. He put his arms over her shoulders and started, "How about I hook you up on a little information I've dug up from countless weeks of intense research?"
"Okay? Shoot."
"Let's just say I know about a certain someone, scientifically proven that is, who is totally interested in you. I am 99.9999% sure of it, if my calculations aren't wrong that is, which they never are." With that Wilson nodded confidently and pulled her a bit closer so that her head was pressing against his chest.
"You're such a liar Wilson, who in the world is crazy enough to like me?" The images of her previous fantasies reemerged into her mind as she imagined his fingers within her own gripping tightly with no intentions of ever letting go. The progression of her thoughts blurred from her mind as Wilson continued with his bootless antics, "WHAT? When have I ever lied to you girl, we go back to the first grade and I can swear that I've never left out the truth in anything I've said to you." His words would've been more convincing had he not have an eminent reputation as a prominent flirt. "Well then who is it?" She sighed. "You know that guy that sits behind you in Chem?...." The rest of his words never made it to her brain. Her heart performed cartwheels in the cages of her ribs and she lost consciousness of where she was headed to. And surprisingly enough, she didn't really care.

Part 1: The Girl and The Boy

She sat nervously in front of him biting on the tip of her pencil. The hairs on her neck stood straight up and her heart pumped at a speed fast enough to put out a fire had her heart been detached from her expanding chest. The pressures of wind circulation hit the sides of her face as he moved in his seat removing his textbook from his backpack. As much as she wanted to turn around and whip up an amazing conversation with him and laugh her heart away at his witty jokes, she couldn’t push herself to turn around. The best she ever did was let him borrow a pencil when he broke his sketching random doodles around his notes. She had branded his words in the back of her head and repeated it to herself every day until she found herself unconsciously whispering it to herself, “Can you lend me a pencil? I broke mine.” She smiled to herself as she vividly recalled that moment. She had turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. His lips were pressed against one another and his eyebrows awkwardly rose so that one was higher than the other. He pointed to pencil sketches of random letters and shapes along the left margin of his paper to indicate the reason for his broken pencil. “Can you lend me a pencil? I broke mine.” At that instant, she could remember the movement of his lips and the gestures of his hands. Strands of hair were draped over the center of his forehead and his eyes seemed to glisten in the light of the classroom. Her stomach tightened as it did the day he talked to her. She sighed a breath of relief and smiled softly to herself.

He found himself drifting off into another prolonged sleep as the words of the lecture hovered besides his ears, but refused to make entrance. He didn’t realize it, but his eyes were tracing the outlines of her shoulders, as it had been for the last 5 months that she moved into his class. The ends of her ponytail danced lightly in the air as she moved her head up and down to look at the notes increasingly filling up the overhead. He remembered the day that he worked up enough courage to force his pencil against his table to break the tip. Hesitating for a good 5 minutes, he tapped her on the shoulder that he had outlined so many times with his eyes. A chill ran through his fingers as the nerves on his fingers touched the surface of her sweater. He felt a slight jolt, and instantly regretted his actions. He started to see the side of her face—the hints of a smile, high-defined cheekbones, and the side of her intense hazel eyes. She looked at him for a second until he remembered to ask, “Can you lend me a pencil? I broke mine.” He pointed to the initials of his name and hers scrambled into a collage of shapes and lines and quickly covered it with his eraser. Without speaking, she took out a pencil from her backpack and put it on his desk. She turned around to resume concentration on the lesson. He put his hand over his forehead and pushed the stray hairs out of his face. His first attempt was a failure. He slid lower into his seat and blankly stared at the green pen working it’s way across the white screen.

The rest will be added later when I think of it (: