Rain was ticking on the window, my pen softly doing the same thing on my desk.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic.
In the front of the class, the teacher was writing down notes for the civil-war, the chalk clicking on the chalkboard whenever he put it down. Joe, his head on his desk, impatiently tapping his left foot, waited for the bell to ring so he could leave the boredom that this classroom was to him.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic.
A girl in the back chewed on gum, almost just as bored as my older brother, it popped in her mouth and outside when she blew it. The clock on the wall the most relaxed of all of us, with slow seconds within slow minutes.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic.
It was a rhythm. Like a drum, like a beat. A rhythm of boredom, of slowness and beauty.
Macy, next to me, clacked with her tongue. Her eyes unfocussed, staring through the window. Mourning over the wet fields.
Stella, next to Joe, followed suit. Her manicured nails, in an impatient rap, coming in contact with the cover of her still closed book.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic.
Van Dyke sighed, Mr. Laritate sniffed and someone, by accident or not, dropped his books. Kevin hummed a song that only his strange but brilliant mind could hear.
Hands went through hair and papers were ruffled. From the music room on the other side of the hallway we could hear the bass.
Someone knocked on the door. A phone with an unrecognizable ringtone went off.
Macy started to hum a JONAS song I hadn't heard in very long. Joe's head was now thumping on his desk, Stella's heels ticking.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic.
Somewhere outside in the parking lot, a senior raised the volume of his car-radio. A group of giggling and singing girls passed the classroom. Amy started a beat on her desk, as Mr. Laritate started digging into the apartheid and slavery. Her new boyfriend immediately falling in with beat-box sounds. They were lucky Mr. Laritate had quite the bad ears and they were in the back. Van Dyke rocked his chair back and forth. The legs hitting the floor again and again. Abby mimicked her new cello song, the melody automatically flowing from her lips too.
"This is boring." Macy whispered.
"Life is boring, unless you make it exciting yourself." Kevin said back, equally soft and winking.
Whispers as a breeze, more ticking pencils, writing hands, humming throats. Beats and tunes, Melodies as the rain intensified. Boredom rose as sounds increased. Voices blending, music from all sides. Words and sentences, soundless notes.
Ticking, tapping, humming, clicking, dabbing, flicking, patting, rattling.
Tic tic, tac-tic-tic. Tac-tac tic. Riiiing!
The bell rang, everything stopped. Everyone left.
I smiled a rare glimpse of teeth.
People asked where I got my inspiration…
The answer?
Here and there.