With a roll of my eyes, I walk beside Andy until we reach Block B. Andy walks ahead to Block D while I make my way towards English. When I enter my classroom, Samantha is already seated, and the space beside her is empty.
She beams a grin when I sit next to her.
Samantha and I grew closer in year eight. Year seven wasn’t a good year for me, so I hung out with Andy and a few older students behind the school building, becoming invisible.
Then, in year eight, Samantha found our spot and was so energetic. Despite her popularity and kindness, she joined us at the back of the building, bumming smokes from older kids. Since then, we have been inseparable. Samantha would sit beside me in class, and we would chill at the bus stop before I went home.
But we aren’t close.
She doesn’t know about my home situation. No one knows besides Andy, and that’s because he witnessed it. Everyone else believes I don’t want friends over because of my strict parents. And since Andy supports this, they don’t invite me out either.
4
CREATIVE ARTS
After English finishes,Samantha heads to the culinary block, while I head to Block A art classes. Andy isn’t here yet.
Our cubicles, labelled with our names and years, are at the back of the class. I drag out my tub and go to grab my art book when a looming shadow hovers over me. Glancing in that direction, the school captain’s badge comes into focus, his fingers poking at it while his other arm rests against the top of the shelves. “Morning, Noya,” Conner says in a low voice.
“Morning…” I murmur.
I lift my pencil case when another sharp pang shudders down my arm, and my hold on the pencil case slackens. My art book and pencil hit the ground, creating a thudding sound in the already quiet classroom.
Mr Rogers turns in our direction before looking back at the blackboard.
I crouch to grab my art book and pencil case when Conner already has them.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands them to me.
Once I have them, I make my way to my desk, only to learn Conner is following me. As I sit, he collapses in the seat beside me and where Andy usually sits.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sitting down. Is something wrong?”
“You usually sit on the other side of the room,” I try to justify. Then, to make it more straightforward, I say, “My friend sits there.”
“Andy, right?”
I nod once, firmly.
“Do you smoke?”
I flutter my eyelashes, surprised by the sudden question. “No…Why?”
“No reason.” He leans back comfortably, his elbows resting on the back of the chair. Hazel eyes observe the blackboard as Mr Roger writes what creative piece we will design today. “I’m trying to figure you out,” Conner admits.
“Why?” There’s more hostility in the tone of my voice than I expected.
“Because there’s more to you than what meets the eye.”
Narrowing my vision, I glare at Conner.
The issue is that I have done nothing to make him notice me. Yet, here he is, the suspicious look on his face making my stomach sink. I know the reason he is here, and it’s because I’m a lousy liar.
It’s hard to hide my feelings, as well as what I’m thinking. It’s one of the many reasons Dad raises his hand at me.
The disgust. Fright—all of it shows when I look at him. And like throwing gasoline on fire, I seem to make it worse.