Author's Note: I don't know junior cour classes. I do not know what you learn in your junior-edition health class. I'm going off my own health knowledge/exercises. I hope you enjoy and love this as much as me:)
Told in third person, but somewhat centered around Blake's thoughts. (Blake-centric?)
(-)
Health Class is wierd.
Blake won't deny that.
It's not that he doesn't like health -but seriously, who in their right mind likes health?- it's more like, the teacher, Mrs. Springs, is wierd.
Mrs. Springs is old, with folding, flabby wrinkles tissuing her fudgy cheeks. Her hair was a grisly, grease yellow that fell to her shoulders, and dull blue-green eyes that were not at all appealing. She was forgetful, haggard, and a waste of time, in most of the kids minds, as they doodled perky hearts in pink ink, or ground thick black letters in the back of their notebooks, or sat really close to the window so their cigarettes could spit ash onto the quad below. Some listened to music, and some did homework. And the very few nerds actually listened.
But Blake, he just sat there.
He would listen sometimes, neatly printing notes for the upcoming test, but most of the time, he just sat there, thinking.
The goth girl to his left was coloring her cuticles with colorful Sharpies. A fellow football jock that sat two seats ahead of him in the next row, was sleeping. A perky brunette with a snuffled nose and a choking cough, actually wrote notes on every-freaking-word Mrs. Springs said in her old, lady-like nasal voice.
But then there she was.
He didn't know her name. She sat two seats up, one seat to the right of him, toward the front. Almost in the spit-range of Mrs. Springs. But it was obvious she didn't mind. She tended to write in a small black composition book, with a purple ink pen -it was always purple- and she twirled it rhythmically through her fingers.
Sometimes, when he went to get his folder or go to the bathroom, he could hear low, almost inaudible humming along with the twirling. Another thing he noticed, she clicked her pen when she was nervous.
Not like the clickclickclickclick that is so irritable that you want to take that pen and throw it out the window, but a rhythmic click.
Blake didn't know if it was to the song in her head that day, or if it was counting numbers -one click, two clicks, three- but it seemed to be a habit she couldn't stop.
And, she bit her nails. Sometimes he notices that her nail varnish was chipped on the oval surface. Her fingertips were always dented with teething marks and dried blood caked one the fragile skin.
She wrote on her arms.
He noticed this one day when he walked in at the beginning of class. She was holding a thick black Sharpie, -like, the tip was bigger than the first section of your finger!- rolling the thick cylinder around in her fingers, before reaching her hand down and pressing it gently into the smooth pale skin.
History text ; Math equation- study! ; English Review Due Next Wed. ; Science Notecards Due!
He tries to be inconspicuous when he detours to pass her desk daily, reading what she writes in her bold Sharpie.
He knows from that her best friends are Abraham Lim, Ali Stroker and Dani Shay.
He knows that she and Aylin Bayramoglu have a love/hate friendship; they sit together every other day, and when they're away, Aylin scowls and snarks. Nellie just laughs along with her friends. But when they're together, they act like old friends that are meeting up again for the first time.
He watches from his view at the jock table -the table of royalty- Shanna Henderson once told him. She's the perky blond head Cheerio, after Kitty Tobin and Brittany S. Pierce graduated, that is.
She may be a Cheerio, but she's pretty and smart. And dating math-whiz Michael Weisman in secret. But that's just a technicality.
Blake sighed, a gentle smile on his lips as he cranked open the Health room's door and entered.
He met a surprising sight. The desks were in a circle, and no one was sitting. They all stood awkwardly on the other half of the room, clutching binders to chests or tossing crumpled paper balls at each other, it was a somewhat-quiet chaos.
Blake goes and stands with them.
"Alright, youngins!" Mrs. Springs yips in her adenoidal voice, a crippled smile lazing on her face as she walks in with a brown box.
She sets it on one of the few uncircled desks in the center of the circle before turning to them.
"Note the white slips of paper on the desks." Mrs. Springs instructs. They all glance around in surprise at the sheaths of white that were suddenly there. It was the first time in the whole year that they were doing something- something... non-lecture-like. A twinge of sadness coursed through Blake. He wouldn't be able to take notes- on her, that is. Her habits, her beauty, her angelic smile. Her voice, which when used, was quiet and rich like velvet.
He glances around, trying to find the slightly-twisted raven hair, or the petite form of her.
"These notes hold your names. Find them." Mrs. Springs demands after a silent moment that felt like hours. Somewhat-excitedly and somewhat-sleepily, the students rushed around to find their names.
Blake followed, keeping his cool, and he found his desk immediately. It near the west wall, the back of the room. He sits down.
He can hear someone sit down next to him, but he's too busy properly arranging his binders to see who it is. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at the name. Nellie Veitenheimer. The name sounded unfamiliar.
He glanced up, and was shocked to meet the wide brown orbs of the raven-haired girl he'd come to recognize so well.
They were so close, and a wave of panic flashed through her eyes. She looked away.
So the girl with the habits- the girl with the gorgeous aura- was named Nellie Veitenheimer. Interesting.
"Now." Mrs. Springs interrupts his reverie, "Shanna will pass you all a slip of paper."
The perky blond Cheerio stands, giving Mrs. Springs an all-too-cheerful smile, taking the hefty stack of papers from her hands and skips around the room, handing out slips of lined paper too happily.
When she gets to Blake, she leans forward a bit to give him the view down her red and white uniform. He stares down at the papers, taking the piece she offers him and waiting for her to move on, but she doesn't.
"Hey, Blake." Her voice is quiet, and she hops up on her- NELLIE'S desk, as if the raven-haired beauty didn't exist, "So, I heard Aylin Bayramoglu and Charlie Lubeck were hosting a party this Friday, and I-"
"Miss Henderson!" Mrs. Springs interrupts, awed, "Abstinence!" The popular kids chuckle, and Shanna continues on, skipping Nellie.
"Um, excuse me." comes Nellie's small voice as Mrs. Springs is about to put the paper away. The woman turns, giving Nellie a rare small smile, "I didn't get a p-piece of p-p-paper." She stutters when all eyes turn her way.
Mrs. Springs gives Shanna a dirty look before crossing the room, the varicose veins in her legs bulging as she crossed the room. Blake looks away, a tortured look on his face.
Nellie thanks her quietly, avoiding attention, obviously.
"Now that we all have paper, I would like you to write your name at the top in big letters."
Someone makes a joke with the word big, and a bunch of footballers burst out laughing, but Blake just rolls his eyes and scribbles his name at the top.
BLAKE JENNER.
He doesn't look over at her handwriting, because then he'd just start ogling like he usually does, at how perfect she is.
"Now, we're going to pass these around, and I want you all to write a note describing what you think of the person, or what you think this person is seen as in your perspective. The sole purpose of this is to see what other people think of you. It tells of your self-esteem and who your real friends are."
They all wait, bored, for her to allow them to start passing.
"You may start.. now!" Mrs. Springs glows, an excited twinge in her voice.
The first person Blake gets is Abraham Lim.
The musician with the red hair streak.
Then Aylin: O. M. G. She's such a slut :D Naw, just kidding. She's cool.
Shanna: Blond Cheerio who is sweet.
He lies about Shanna being sweet. She's as sweet as the devil. He passes the sheet on to Nellie without another word.
Another list of names courses along his desk before, finally, he gets
Nellie Veitenheimer.
The i's are dotted with stars and there's a heart after the r. Cute, Blake thinks, before skimming through others' responses. Most say who? or why does she sound familiar? or she's in my shop class! or:
she's an amazing singer! #GleeClub4Lyfe -Abraham ;)
Blake smiles, twirling his pen like she does, before writing a neat, sweet response.
A girl who's habits are cute. A girl who is quiet, sweet and mute. A girl I want to know more. A girl who deserves more that she is given credit for. A girl who I should smile because she looks beautiful doing it. A girl I like. A girl who I hope likes me back -Blake.
Blake inks a small Sharpie heart -he purchased a rainbow of Sharpies after he'd discovered that she loved them- in thick red ink, with a black arrow bludgeoning through it diagonally.
"By now, you should've gotten yours back. I'll give you a minute to read the responses." Mrs. Springs declares, before heading for her desk. Blake hands Nellie hers, and she looks down, flushing pink.
He can hear the high-pitched giggles of Ali Stroker, Dani Shay and Abraham from across the room, which he ignores. He lifts his close to his face.
Cool guy -Dani
A nice jock ;D -Ali
My best friend -Math-Whiz Michael ;)
Someone who seems cool. -Tyler
Cutie. -Shanna
Ew, slut. -Aylin ;)
Perfect :) -Lily
And last but not least, a response that made him gasp for air. He felt like he was lightheaded in a good way, as if he was dorking it up while sucking down helium, and making funny noises. Or like when you're on a roller coaster, and the anticipation is so riveting, so energising, that you feel like life is floating under you aimlessly.
He feels so high, like a kite.
Higher than a kite.
Because he can't stop reading that rather large paragraph, in purple ink, with a smudgeon of fresh nail varnish that she had obviously done when Mrs. Springs wasn't looking, and the repetitive little dots from her pen flicking the lines as she twirled it. And the tint of champage lipstick pressed in a small, subtle kiss next to her name:
Dear Blake,,
Well, you see, I had no clue who you were until I noticed you walk in the first day of Health, in your Titans jersey - #19 ;) - and blue shorts and I was like "Oh, damn" because I saw you so attractively standing there confused and puzzled. Then, a few weeks, months maybe, into Health, I realized that you were staring at me. Or maybe I was just being self-centered. If you think this, stop reading, because this'll just be embarrassing.
He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, only to see that she, too, is looking at him from the corner of her eye. Her eyes dart away. He continues reading.
So, you're sticking around. That's cool. Well, I realized that you found my 'ticks' charming. It was wierd, seeing your dark eyes watch every flick of my pen. Watching me write with Sharpies on my arms. My friends said I'm crazy. Clearly, I agree.
What do you think? :)
-Love, Nellie
(Love.)
He smiles, turning in his seat to find her staring at him, her cheek pressed into her fist, her right hand doodling. She looks up and the pen bounces off the desk and onto the floor. They both go to pick it up, and grab it at the same time. They look up into eachother's eyes: bright chocolate on dark hazel.
"I don't think you're crazy." He whispers, and their foreheads are almost pressed together.
"Are you sure?" She asks, a nervous smile oozing off her lips.
"Of course. I think I'm the crazy one. I'm crazy for you." he corrects.
She giggles, "That was too cheesy."
"I do like cheese." He marvels and she laughs, her quiet voice like tingling bells. Blake grins, leaning forward and closing the distance between their faces.
She smiles against his lips and he grins back, deepening their kiss.
Whoops and whistles escalate in the room, causing Nellie to pull away, blushing.
He grins, reaching forward and framing her small face with his rather-large hands. He reaches down and kisses her chastely again.
"I feel like I've known you forever." he whispers under the pandemonium.
She smiles gently, her fingers gently enclosing around his wrists.
"Is it wierd that we've only talked for what, two minutes, and we're already kissing?"
"Talked." Blake enunciates, "That doesn't mean we didn't feel this way beforehand."
"True." She marvels.
And with that, he reaches down and presses his lips to hers.
Yeah, Health class was wierd. But who knew it could bring two lovebirds together?
~fin.~
It is complete. I hope you enjoyed.