The Things One Doesn't Expect

Part Two

Owen always sits in the back of the classroom. Not once has he ever sat up past the third row of desks.

You see, he hates drawing attention to himself by raising his hand, so he figures if he sits in the back, no one will notice he's there. Of course, the teachers do, and they ask him to answer a question occasionally; he gets them all right.

The teachers then always ask him why, if he's so smart, he doesn't pass their classes with flying colors. He always says it's because he has a horrible memory and can never remember to do homework, but that is far from the truth.

The reason he only gets by in classes is because of homework, yes, but he always remembers what it is. But he can never do it.

His nights usually go such as the previous one did. School gets out, he gets beat on or picked on, he gets home about a half hour later (for he does have to walk a good mile to get home), then the usual troubles ensue once he arrives.

So his reasons for not doing homework vary: he could be caring for is once-again-high- mother and then taking care of himself, or he could just go straight to bed after a particularly hard beating that follows school. Of course he sometimes can slip in a few assignments, but he typically gets close to nothing done.

And now he sits there, tapping his pencil lightly on his chin and contemplating the universe. It may not seem it, but Owen can be quite deep when he wants to be. In fact, on the rare occasion that he speaks, it's commonly something very profound, almost arcane (though there are the sparse times when one can strike up a casual conversation with him).

Anyway, this brunette is now very deep in thought about what the world would be like without trees. He's been at it for nearly the whole class period. He also doesn't seem to care very much about what the teacher is saying, a glazed over look taking over his eyes.

Now little Owen here hardly pays attention in class. He feels he doesn't need to, for he reads a lot on his own time.

On the weekends when his mother is off gambling and he doesn't feel like doing his homework, he takes a short trip down to the public library; he checks out about four books, and spends the weekend reading them, absorbing their information like a sponge (though his favorite genre is science fiction).

And it is at this time that Owen now finds his thoughts drifting more towards that area, and he is even more immersed in his own contemplations. He really does enjoy this, however, because he feels more secure in his own head than anywhere else.

So right now, he is on a pirate ship drifting through the stars, like some space adventurer. His crew is running about, securing ropes and all that, as he stares out across the vast, dark horizon. He stands up at the crow's nest, which is his favorite spot on the entire ship. It is here that he gets time alone to watch over his crew and make sure all goes according to plan. But then, suddenly, his boat is thrown to the side and he can smell smoke. People are running about and shouting, enemy pirates are climbing aboard, and Owen is just standing there, watching the madness. And then he can hear something; something small and quiet. It rises out of the chaos below on deck until it's the only thing the brunette can hear.

It's his name.

It's being whispered over and over again, and then it slowly gets louder.

Owen is then snapped out of his wonderful day dream, only to find the teacher staring down at him with a glare.

"Class was over five minutes ago," she snaps. "But when the bell rang, you didn't budge."

"Sorry…" he mumbles, gathering his things. "Must've dozed off…"

The teacher then sighs and her gaze softens. "Look, Owen, you're a smart kid, I know that. But why do I keep catching you zoning out in class? Do you even care that you're only getting a C-minus? It would do you some good to actually pay attention once in a while."

"I'm sorry…" the boy mumbles again, and is sure not to make eye contact; he doesn't want to see the sympathy there. "But, um, I should get to my next class… I don't wanna be late."

At this, the teacher backs off. She walks back to her desk and takes a seat with another sigh. "Okay, okay, go. But this conversation isn't over, I hope you realize that."

Owen just nods and quickly shuffles out of the room.

*.*.*

I have never been so bored in my entire life.

Someone get me out of here.

I can't take his droning anymore.

So here I sit, in the middle of science class, the teach going on and on about the anatomy of an earthworm, and I'm bored out of my ever-living mind. I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if the teacher was actually good looking or fun; but I don't think he'd know the meaning of those words.

And yes, I said "he". I'm gay. Got a problem with that? No? Good (Yeah, you'll hear me mention it quite often, get used to it).

Anyway, so I'm sitting here in class when something peculiar catches my eye.

To my right and up one row, there sits a small kid, a brunette. He's staring at the black board with a faraway look, and every so often, his eyebrow twitches like he's thinking really hard. The odd thing is, I've never noticed him before…

You see, I think of myself as a pretty observant person, or at least with my classmates. So for me not to notice someone, it's kind of weird. Either they're new, or just really, really quiet. But this kid is most certainly not new. So who is he…?

And now I find myself staring at the back of his head. Oops… He'll think I'm some kind of stalker…

I tear my gaze away and shift some of my long, strawberry blonde bangs in front of my eye (though it's a bit difficult due to my glasses). But I can't keep my eyes off of him, as creepy as that may sound. My sight keeps shifting back towards him, as if some kind of magnet is pulling me there. And it's now that I realize I need to chat with this kid, at least find out his name.

So, just to make things less awkward, I pull all of my long bangs down in front of my eyes so it covers them, and part of my nose too. I've noticed that if I style my bangs in just the right way, then no one can see my eyes or even part of my expression. And it's now that I can finally stare at this kid (please don't think of me as some kind of creeper rapist thing, I swear I'm not), and try to remember him.

Strange thing is... I can't remember this kid for my life. I'm pretty sure he's only in my science class, and that he's never raised his hand, gotten up to leave, or answered a question the entire year. Now, it is only the beginning of November, but you'd think I'd at least remember him from the first day when we all had to introduce ourselves or something. But no. I have nothing here. God damn it, kid, who are you...?

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts and contemplations that I don't notice the bell has rung until the girl who sits behind me taps me on the shoulder. I turn to her with an intelligent, "Huh?"

She giggles at my stupidity and bats her eyelashes. "U-um..." She stammers nervously. "P-pretty boring lecture, eh? He didn't seem like he'd shut up even if the room next door exploded." She looks at me with big eyes, expecting me to laugh or something.

I offer her a smile as I clear the bangs from my face and stand up. "Yeah, you're right, he was pretty monotonous." Yeah, that's right, I know big words, too. "But hey, gotta stay awake lest he slap you with a ruler again." At this, her cheeks go pink.

"Y-you remember that...?" She asks nervously, and I nod.

A couple weeks ago, she'd fallen asleep and the entire class could hear her snoring. So our teacher had taken a meter stick from against the wall, stalked to the back of the class, and proceeded to slam the stick on the desk as hard as he could, making everyone jump. Of course, including this poor girl. Now she didn't just start awake, no, she yelped and literally fell out of her chair out of shock. Laughter of course ensued which thoroughly embarrassed the chick, and I was the only one who talked to her for the next two days.

Hey, I only asked her if she was okay. But she somehow took this as "Even though I'm gay and everybody in the school knows it, I'm interested in you. A female."

Anyway, I shrug and say, "It's no big deal, I'm sure no one remembers it."

This seems to brighten her mood, and I'm happy for a moment that I could lessen her nervousness. But then, everything backfires and she says, "Y'know, you're really sweet. I was thinking, um... Maybe we could, uh... Hang out sometime...?"

Now one must understand that this isn't the first time a girl has asked me out. I mean, I am nice, funny, sweet, and pretty hot, not to toot my own horn or anything. So I know how to turn down a chick and make sure they don't crash and burn.

Though I do wonder... Did this girl not get the memo? I figured that, at least by stereotypes, everyone would've figured it out when I came into school the other day with neon purple skinny jeans (that I looked awesome in, just saying).

"Um, well, y'see, my door doesn't exactly swing in the direction of girls, if you know what I mean," I state. Okay, I'll admit I'm not that smooth.

At this, her face falls and she looks let down. "Oh... S-sorry for asking then..."

I nearly wince at her words. "No, no, you don't need to apologize. It usually takes people a while to figure it out." Not. "But, uh, being friends is still cool, right?"

She just nods, then bolts for the door, completely embarrassed, and kind of looks like she's about to cry. Dammit, Scott, learn to use words better, I scold myself.

I shake my head and head out of class, my backpack casually slung over one shoulder. It's now that I realize I totally forgot my goal: to find that kid and talk with him.

So I pick up my speed in hopes of catching up with him; I mean, class just ended, so he can't be too far away, can he?

But I realize all is lost.

He's gone.

Dammit...

Maybe tomorrow.

Little did I know that I'd be saying that for a good... Long... While... Damn.