Page 37 of This I Know
“Go to class, Brendan. See what the teacher says. If you still need help, meet me again tomorrow at the same time. If I have some free time I’ll see what I can do to help you out.”
“Perfect.” He gives his glasses one more push and then leaves, heading the same direction we were just traveling, and he disappears around a turn.
I pull the door open and avoid walking past Ethan. I meant what I said about the whole refusal to acknowledge him thing. He’d got a girlfriend; I have no business with him.
But that doesn’t stop him from looking at me again.
I know because I can feel his prying eyes. That, and I can just barely see his gaze from the edge of my vision.
“Hola,” Hannah says when I take my seat.
I like her. Hannah’s what I like to call an Instant Friend – someone you like immediately, who likes you immediately, and together you skip over that awkward phase of introduction. Insta-Friends like Hannah are a rare find.
“Greetings,” I say just as the bell rings over me.
I sit in my usual way lately; exasperated, and with a big sigh. The weather is getting warmer and I still haven’t yet summoned the courage to wear a pair of shorts in public, what with my scar and all, so I’ve been stuck with my usual cool-weather skinny jeans or leggings. Today it just so happens to be the jeans, a bad choice in the heat, and now I’m paying the price. I’m warm. Hot, even. I pretend to fan my face with my hand until I see Hannah still watching me, giving me a look like I’m crazy to be acting so dramatic.
“You got some hot flashes?” she asks.
I put my hand down. “I should have dressed for the weather, that’s all.”
“Okay, everyone,” says Mr. Miller, his deep voice booming over us. “We’ve got something a little different going on today.” He stands with one hand on his hip, one resting against his desk. “I’m going to go around the room and assign everyone a number. When I finish – and not until I finish – you need to find everyone else who has that number. Form a group. Those will be your lab partners.”
Oh, no. I hate it when teachers do this.
He starts in the left hand corner. Ethan is the second to be assigned, so he gets the number two. My heart is racing. He keeps counting, and I never know which path his finger is going to take with each new row, so I can’t predict my number. Finally, he approaches the back row – my row. It looks like he’s going to start from the other side, which means I’ll be in the clear of landing a number two.
He shoots his finger around, pointing it at Hannah. “One,” he says firmly.
No. Please, God, no.
He points at me. “Two.”
I cringe.
I keep my head down. The whole class is probably examining one another already, trying to determine who has their matching numbers, who they’ll have to spend the rest of God knows how long working with. And that probably includes Ethan. He’s most likely scanning the room right now, trying to find his fellow twos. He has to be. Damn it.
Everyone gets up, and I do, too. I gather my things and push off the desk to support myself. My leg is acting up today. A rush of students clambers around, and I stop to collect myself. I’m disoriented in all the commotion. I stand at the front of the room, and when I re-open my eyes, I stop searching when I see a group of three gathered at a table in the back corner. One of them is Ethan.
He’s a two, so that’s my group.
Ethan is sitting with a few of our classmates, somewhat aloof, looking down at his papers and holding the back of his neck.
I approach them, working to keep my leg from quivering or showing a limp. I clear my throat and say, “Are you guys twos?”
A boy answers, “Yep.”
When I take a seat across from Ethan, the only other girl sitting with us begins to direct the group.
“I’m so excited,” she chirps to no one in particular. “Knowing Mr. Miller, this could be a good chance to lift our grades before the end of the year. I’ve got lots of open time between Color Guard, so I’ll take the biggest portion.”
I think,You know Mr. Miller?
Anyway, thank goodness that leadership role appears to be taken. I wasn’t about to step up to that like I used to in math class. There was no Ethan Harrington in math class.
No one answers her.
“Okay…” she continues, her bubbly nature shining.
