I watched him, silently, as he took his brand new pencil eraser, and took the round edge and drew circles on the wooden desk. The circle traced the pattern of the wood precisely. Nick's face was set in intense concentration; I knew to not go over and interrupt him. It would shatter my little brother.
The clock's hand turned, clicking simultaneously with the thumps of my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I resisted the strong urge to sigh and instead stole a glance over at my brother, Nick. In between his thumb and index finger, a curly lock of hair was being twisted. After his index finger had circled within the curl five times, Nick would tug hard on his tress and then scrunch his face up before he would repeat the process.
The clock read 1:32 p.m. The middle of our high school day. We sat in etymology together because, as a junior who failed the sophomore opportunity to take the class, I failed it. Nick, on the other hand, was able to follow what the teacher said, and he had the advantage of having this perfect mind where he was always able to absorb anything set in front of him.
The screech of the white chalk against the blackboards drew our attention over to the teacher. "The root word aur. What does it mean?" His wide, dark eyes scanned the room. My head swiveled around, watching to see if any of the other students would raise his or her hand. "No takers, I presume?"
"Gold," I hear someone mutter. Their voice is small, yet loud enough for us to hear it without being able to identify it. My eyes wandered around the class in an attempt to find the source of the voice.
"Whoever said it," the teacher replied, "would you mind saying it so that the entire class could hear it?"
"The root word, aur. It means gold." I watched the words utter from Nick's mouth as he continued to twirl his hair. Something's off with him, I thought. I scrutinized his entire demeanor. I couldn't exactly pinpoint what was going on with him, but I knew that he didn't feel good about whatever it was.
"Mr. Bargs," I said as I raised my hand, "could I take Nick to the nurse? He looks like his blood sugar isn't cooperating with him." At this comment, Nick's head rises up, and his eyes meet mine. I silently tell him to not argue with me. Nick obediently gets up and gathers his things, as I do the same with mine. I make it to the door before him, holding it out as he approaches quickly.
"Necro, anybody?" The teacher questioned.
"Death." I hear Nick mumble the word before the door closes on us. My spine receives a tingle at his monotonous tone.
Once we make it into the hallway, I turn to position my body right in front of his. Nick's fingers rapidly drum against the side of his thigh as his eyes dart between me and the rest of the high school. "Calm down," I tell him gently. My palm rests itself on his arm, and I feel his body slightly tense up. Not the reaction I was anticipating.
"Something's gonna happen, Joe," Nick blurted out. I took a step away from him and blinked my eyes several times. He looks as if he contemplated on saying something else, but decided against it.
"…What?" I say, perplexed.
"Joe, I can tell. It's…" he bit his bottom lip and stared at the scuffed, tiled floor, "I don't know what it is, but it isn't good." He stared at me pleadingly, begging me to listen to him.
"Let's just go back into the classroom," I said as I retrieved our bags. I dropped the strap of Nick's Puma drawstring backpack into his outstretched hand and watched as his fingers slowly closed around it. I turn around to start retreating back inside, but I can sense that Nick isn't following me. I slowly turn back around and see that both of his hands are clenching his hair, and that his eyes are tightly squeezed shut.
I drop my bag once again and stare at him. Lightly tapping his cheek gently, I ask him if he's okay. He doesn't answer me until I've asked the same question about six times. "Joe! I need…I need to go home. Please?" His eyes shone with defeat and tiredness.
"Nick," I groaned not too loudly. "Why must everything be so difficult for you?"
He timidly shrugged his shoulders in response and pulled his backpack up to wear it should be: his back. I ruffled his head with the palm of my hand before I headed back towards the door. "Hey," I called to him, "just hang here for a sec', okay? I'm just going to tell him that I'm taking you home. Good?"
Nick nodded his head swiftly, and began to quickly pat his abdomen in a steady rhythm. Before I was able to reach the door to the etymology room, the fire alarm began blaring, filling the silent hallway with a loud, repetitious noise. Kids immediately began to flow from the classrooms in a panic.
Before a teacher could come out and organize my peers, a gun shot went off. Screams erupted from mouths, and I watched, heart wrenched, as Nick slid to the floor, covering his ears.