Art
Adam and I were sitting together at one of the 2 person tables. The teacher, whose name I've already forgot, was pretty hands-off. She just gave us the day's assignment, which was making clay pitchers in pairs, and walked around in case anyone needed help. I was pouring water into a pot to moisten our clay, while Adam pried the plastic wrapper off the sticky, dry clay.
Standing there, next to each other, I realized how much taller I am than him. It didn't bother me; I just hate being 5'10. It was cool in 8th grade, when I got to be the last person to walk at graduation. But now it sucks because no boy wants to date a girl taller than him. He was also very short, for a boy. Maybe we're soul mates, I think fleetingly.
"So, I get to keep the pitcher because I'm the girl, right?" I asked, half-teasing. Adam smiled. He had a nice smile, perfectly straight with white teeth. I wondered if it was the "I had braces for 5 years smile" or the natural kind that only a lucky few had. My teeth were white and straight enough that I didn't need braces, but his were perfect.
"Are you enforcing sexism in art class, Miss Embry?" he joked. "That's highly inappropriate."
"No, not at all. I just want a pitcher to serve you lemonade when I'm barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Is that okay?" I replied. He laughed, kind of uneasily. Not every one likes my sense of humor. I changed the subject. "What grade are you in?"
"10th. My stepbrother, Drew, is in 11th. And you're a-?"
"Sophomore, too. Did you know that the word 'sophomore' is a huge oxymoron? It comes from the Greek 'sophos', meaning wise, and 'moros' meaning foolish." I ramble.
" Wow, that's actually kinda cool. Do you have 5th lunch?" I nodded. "Oh, well you should sit with us. 'Us' being me, Clare and Eli. Save me from being the 3rd wheel, for once."
"Sure. So there is something going on with Eli and Clare! I knew they were too awkward to just be friends."
Adam snickered. "Not exactly. They barely know they're more than friends. It's really annoying. They need to take the next step already."
"Oh give them time! Why rush? Besides, it's like they're TV characters or something this way."
"Yes, because we should all live our lives like a TV show." he sing-songed.
I laughed at his tone; he sounded like my hysterical grandmother. I watched as he plunged the clay slab into the water. Before I even thought about it, I grabbed his sleeve and pulled it up so it wouldn't get wet. Then I caught a look at his arm. Long, shiny burn marks spanned from his wrist to his elbow. Adam slowly looked up, making me realize I was still holding his arm.
I gently let go and he whipped it away. "Er, sorry." I stammered, barely intelligibly. I bit my lip when I saw Adam's face. He looked terrified. I started to open my mouth, but the bell rang. Everyone grabbed their things and left, with the teacher calling, "We'll finish tomorrow."
Adam grabbed his bag and ran away, pausing at the door to look at me. I should've followed, but I didn't. I guess Old Harper is still alive and well. Old, selfish, mean, and petty Harper.