Chapter 9

Don't Close Your Eyes

"Happy Valentine's Day, class."

"Happy Valentine's Day," we wearily chorused in return.

Ms. Duke wore her usual warm smile. "Please take out last night's homework and we'll go over it."

Ms. Duke was a very... unique teacher. She wasn't mean or anything. On the contrary, she was quite possibly my nicest. However, if you had to take a guess on which grade she taught judging solely by the tone of her voice, you would guess that she was a preschool teacher. She always talked in a very cheerful voice; perhaps a little too cheerful for the class not to get the impression that Ms. Duke thought we were just little kids. I didn't really mind, but that didn't put that bouncy tone to rest. In physical terms, she was average in height and weight, with glasses and short, curly, grey hair. She almost never stopped smiling.

I fetched last night's homework out of my orange Science folder. In my opinion, it had been too much for one night, especially the night before a holiday. The homework was composed of four worksheets (front and back) stapled together to form a packet. So, altogether, that was eight sheets in one night.

Once everyone had their work out, Ms. Duke started calling on people to read what answers they got. I honestly tried to focus on what was going on, but the effort was wasted. The two sides of my mind were arguing like they were married. How could anyone possibly think of science when their love life was in jeopardy?

Maybe Lilly was right. Maybe this was a matter of destiny. Consider into the equation all of the relationships that both Miley and I had been in. The longest (me and Becca, in case you were wondering) had lasted what, two weeks? And Jake flies off two thousand miles away right after he first kisses Miley. I had earlier dismissed that as coincidence, but now that I thought about it...

"...divided by time equals power, then how many Watts did it take to..."

But why would Miley like me? What could she possibly see in me? I for sure couldn't tell, granted that she saw something in the first place. She was so... perfect, and I wasn't. I simply didn't measure up to someone like her.

"Seven Joules? Are you sure? Good, because it's correct."

Wait a second. Why wouldn't Miley like me? I was good looking. I've been to the beach with her plenty of times, so she's seen my rock-hard abs. The ones I built up just for her. Not to mention my fabulous hair. Wasn't I the one who always called myself Smokin' Oken? Smokin' Oken... Smokin' Oken...

"Smokin' Oken?"

I jolted upwards and the classroom instantly came back into view. Not exactly to my surprise, I discovered that my eyes were pointed at the back of Miley's head, her beautiful brown curls shining in the light from the ceiling.

Noticing that I was zoning out within half a second of being woken up, I wrenched my gaze from Miley to Ms. Duke.

Ms. Duke was the one who had said my name, I was positive of that much. She liked using nicknames, sometimes even coming up with one for a student based on a one-time incident. For example, one time she had asked a kid named David a question, to which he automatically replied, "Defrost." He'd been reading the information on a pack of gum and just mistakenly blurted it out. From that day forward, she called him Defroster, and the name, strangely, stuck. As a result, she was the only one besides myself who referred to me as Smokin' Oken.

But that didn't give me any idea what question she had just asked for.

"What number are we on?" I hesitantly overcame my pride.

Ms. Duke, thankfully, didn't rub it in. "The last one on the page," she provided generously.

I looked at the bottom of the page and read the question aloud.

"You and a friend are hired to move a large pile of wood to another location. You agree that one of you will move the wood halfway while the other person eats lunch, then the other one will do it the rest of the way while the first person eats their lunch. You move the wood halfway then go out to lunch. When you get back, you discover that your friend has accidentally moved the wood back to its original position. Your employer refuses to pay you because he says that no work was done. Is he justified in his actions?"

That was an easy one. Work, scientifically, is when force is applied to an object to make it move a distance. If you push against a wall and it doesn't budge, then you technically haven't done any work. If you pick up a pencil, though, than you have done work.

"No."

Ms. Duke continued to stare at me for a second, then said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I replied.

Ms. Duke turned her head to a hand that was in the air. "What do you think, Dandruff Danny?"

He winced slightly at the sound of his nickname, but answered, "No."

"And why not?" she asked curiously.

"Because the wood didn't move."

Yes it did! my mind screamed. Sure, it ended up at the same place where it started, but it still moved.

"Correct."

No it's not! It's wrong!

"Number eight. Rocky?"

My head sunk down to my desk in defeat. I knew it would be pointless to argue. When a teacher said something, it was true. That's just the way it was, no debating. There the answer is, set in stone. That's all there is to it. Teachers can't be wrong, they get paid not to. The list goes on and on. Even with Ms. Duke, that was how things were.

I felt my consciousness slipping away again. I watched it go as if it was a ship setting sail, though I was made sure not to start staring at Miley without meaning to.

We've gotta tell her.

We? What do you mean, "we?" We're the same person.

Okayyyy. I've gotta tell her.

Oh no I don't.

Yes I do. What's the point of living if you're half dead inside?

It's better than being completely dead inside.

But I might not die inside. Suppose she likes me.

Suppose she doesn't. Am I willing to take that risk?

...I don't know.

Neither do I. Which makes sense, 'cause we're the same person.

This is so hard. I don't even know what to think anymore. Why me?

Because I'm a sucker for Miley.

Yeah, but why am I a sucker for Miley? It all causes me nothing but pain.

That's love for ya.

I smiled.

But I still haven't answered the question. Should I do it?

I honestly have no clue. On one hand, my existence might become worthwhile, which, admittedly, it currently isn't. On the other hand, my life might become unbearable.

Should I go for it and hope for the best?

Hope doesn't mean anything.

Miley is perfect. She's smart, funny, and her body's not bad either.

I'm smart.

I'm funny.

I spent four freaking months getting my abs this toned.

So what does Miley have that I don't?

Nothing.

Okay, so there's not really any reason for her not to like me.

But then again, there's not really any reason for math once we've learned how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide, either. The question isn't "should she." It's "does she."

So does she?

There's only one way to find out.

I was right, I knew that much, but I was... scared. Which was not a common emotion for me.

Even if I decide to tell her, will I be able to go through with it? I don't know if I have enough courage to do something that major.

Besides, I couldn't just pull her out to the side in the middle of the hallways and do it in between classes. It would take too long. Where could I possibly do it?

Because of fate or sheer coincidence, I don't know, but even though I hadn't paid attention to anything that had been said in class, I heard Ms. Duke say something at that exact moment:

"Okay, class. Because it's Valentine's Day, I'm not gonna give you any extra work. We'll spend the rest of the period outside."

... that could work, I thought as the rest of the class cheered.

But that doesn't mean I've made up my mind.

I rose from my desk and walked to the door.

"Take a Sweet Heart as you leave," said Ms. Duke.

I was right next to the open bag when she said that, so I automatically took one. I strode out to about the middle of the space outside before looking down at it.

Ask me.

I was gripped by some alien emotion I had never felt before. It felt somewhat like fear, but mixed with panic and... denial?

Whatever it was, my eyes snapped shut like those of a child who had just seen a scaly green hand reach out of their closet.

Then, I heard Miley herself sing two lines from one of my favorite songs as clearly as if she was singing it with her microphone and blonde wig right next to me.

Don't close your eyes

'Cause it's a chance worth taking.

I obeyed. As my eyes slowly opened, a fuzzy picture directly ahead of me became more and more visible.

Of course, my head was conveniently pointed right at (who else?) Miley.

I dropped the Sweet Heart into a sewer vent and started to walk toward her.