The strangest thing occurred after that day, the dreariness of the weather seemed to have vanished and the sun, which had been on the cusp of rearing itself for the past week finally did so. Warm rays cascaded off of the blanket of snow that covered the town and by the end of the week, the horrible weather that shook Lima became a distant memory.
Anya, whenever something happy or unexpected occurred in her life; usually pertaining to a boy, reverts and loses herself in thought without realizing it. It was Friday afternoon, and she currently wasn't paying attention to Mr. Gray, her English teacher. They were assigned a book the class before and they had been told to read the first three chapters to discuss. The girl had her head down, casually drawing out zig zags and swirly symbols with the random childlike heart shapes, unaware that her teacher stood behind lost in observation.
"I see we have an artist in our classroom." her teacher said, his tone humorous and annoyed at the same time.
Anya, as if her pencil became a red hot poker or a wild, poisonous snake, dropped out of her loose grasp and it rolled into the center of her opened notebook. Eyes looked straight again and pretended that he didn't just single her out in the classroom as her hand nervously tugged on the edge of her book, bending the corner of the paperback to the beat of her racing heart.
"You can relax, Miss MacPherson. I will not do the typical thing and show your peers whatever it was you were doodling. Try to pay attention to the discussion, ok?" He advanced past her desk and she felt a few eyes on her as she sunk a bit in her chair not really certain why she felt such embarrassment over something as trivial as this.
Mr. Gray, a copy of their assigned book rolled up in his hands, worked his way to the front of the classroom. "Are there any thoughts about the main character? Humbert Humbert. What a name, huh?" He asked the class with a chuckle. "Opinions?" The class sat in silence as he tapped the book a couple of times in his open palm. "Gripings?" He practically fished for any sort of response from the room full of students who made themselves seem busy with taking notes from the book or the occasional note passing.
Anya, who finally straightened back up in her chair opened the paperback book with the now bent edges as if she were trying to bookmark the entire novel with the amount of pressure she used on it before, and looked at a few places she had highlighted in pink the night prior. The entire concept from what she managed to pick up from the story made her feel a little uneasy and she didn't quite understand how this could be assigned reading. It made her question her teacher's taste in reading material and she didn't know if it was cool of him to pick such a story that most parents would be against if they realized what they were assigned to review.
Mr. Gray, a rather rugged looking man that seemed like he must have been no more than five years out of college, sat on the corner of his desk and shook his head. This action brought the hair that he had gelled back earlier in the day, to fall forward and a curl draped over his right eyebrow as he tried to excite his students about the reading assignment. If he wasn't a teacher, Anya would actually find the man rather attractive. Actually, it wasn't that he was a teacher that kept her from being able to take in his good looking features, there was something off about him. It seemed laughable and if she were to attempt to explain that to anybody, they'd say she was nuts because he came across as a nice teacher, always ready to assist whenever needed. But. There was something that, deep inside, not feel like she could truly feel comfortable with him.
"I know. This is a pretty heavy reading and there will be a lot that might go over year head. I am available to help explain any parts of it that you all don't understand. Now. At least one of you must have a question. Or did any of you read the chapters?"
Crickets again and he thumped the book on his knee, his easy going smile never leaving his thin lips. "How about you?" He pointed at a random person in the front of the classroom. "What do you think about Humbert Humbert?"
The teacher picked on one of the hockey players who was speaking to a girl behind him in hushed whispers. The muscular boy with the broad shoulders and rather hideous haircut that some would call a mullet, came across as annoyed while the teacher looked on with a patient smirk. The jock shrugged and muttered, "The guy is a creep."
"Why do you say that? What does he do to give you that impression?" The tap, tap, tap of the book against his knee served as a tempo and the classroom watched the hockey guy think, the thought process actually working out on his face as if they could see the gears do their magic in his mind.
"He says he is a murder or whatever at the beginning of the story. After that he kept talking about things. About his family and some chick he banged. I didn't finish reading because this story is boring as hell." There was a chorus of agreement and nods, Anya included. She fallen asleep a few times while reading this and not even certain if she fully understood what any of it meant.
Most teachers would have responded with a negative reply or assigned an outrageous amount of work, but not Mr. Gray. He let it slide off his shoulders and reviewed the class that seemed to agree with the student.
"Do you all agree with Mr. Nelson? You think the story is boring?" He waited for anybody else to speak up, which they were suddenly bashful. "This is a classic. Dare I say a masterpiece. How about we turn to the next chapter and go over it together." The desk creaked under his weight as he leaned forward. "This is where our main character actually tries to understand where he is comes from and why he developed such an attraction to our Lolita. We will also read more about Annabel and how he handled her abrupt death from typhus."
The classroom opened their books and the ruffling of pages and students shifting in their seats overpowered the previous stillness in the room. Mr. Gray resumed his standing position in front of the classroom. "I'm amazed that you find this story to be such a bore. Even if the writing of his love scenes with Annabel were far from graphic, it was as clear as the nose on your faces that they had intense chemistry. The type that many TV shows and movies try to convey and I know that a good portion of you desire."
During the rest of the class, their English teacher picked students at random to read the text out loud and would stop to explain any parts that felt needed further thought on, which turned out to be most of the class time and they managed to make it halfway through the short chapter before the bell rang. "Good class today, guys. Go ahead and read Chapters five and six for next class. Remember you can E-mail me or come by after school to talk or ask questions. My door is always open."
The headache from reading made Anya's vision double and she couldn't wait to get home to lie down. Reading for extended periods of time did that to her, even after all of the sessions that her parents paid for to help with her dreaded dyslexia. With her lack of sleep and inability to really focus on anything made a bad combination for her. Her therapist back home said that she should always take the time to read things out loud and to sound them out, but with what she was able to read last night in the story that Mr. Gray assigned, there is no way she would feel comfortable speaking the insane ramblings of Humbert Humbert for the Jones to hear.
She shuffled her pink sneaker covered feet out the emptying classroom and headed to her last class of the day when she spotted Imogen looking her way as she spoke to somebody she didn't recognize. Things didn't seem right upon first glance and Anya's impression that there was a serious discussion in play and it might be best not to approach it made her falter in moving forward. They stood next to a row of lockers, people walking past them and casually taking interest in their heatedly murmured discussion. Imogen, sadness written all over her features walked around to either hide her face from Anya or to block out the boy who happened to be speaking to her with a flair of annoyance.
The clean cut boy, with a short brown haircut, it slightly spiked in random angles tilted his head to the side and she watched his brows come together in a concentrated sneer. He wore a gray wool jacket, the buttons tightly buttoned up his slender frame and a brilliantly red scarf casually wrapped around his neck, part of it loosened as he spoke to her friend.
She only could see the back of Imo, her head bent forward and the pigtails she wore that day drooped down as if it taken on the current state she was in. The tension crackled between the pair just by the way she rubbed her forearms, the thin material of her black sweater bunching up, and stared at the ground while the boy delivered an icy glare at the top of her head. His cheeks tinged pink with what? Anger? Frustration? Embarrassment? Those were the only things that Anya could think that would cause that sort of shade on somebody's face especially with a skin tone as fair as his.
There was no getting around the conversation as the direction of the gym, her final class, lead past the pair. Anya speedily walked down the hallway, her shoes squeaking against the waxed floor as she tried her damndest to move over as far away to not make it appear as if she was eavesdropping.
A group of kids decided that it would be a wonderful idea to congregate along the wall across from the boy and Imogen and they didn't appear to be in any rush, even with the impending bell minutes away from ringing. There wasn't time for this and had to get into the locker room before that infernal bell were to go off or she'd be considered late. Her tummy clenched with vexation and worry when she forcibly took the route in the middle of the hallway.
She must have been about three steps away from the two people she had tried to avoid all of this time when her ears picked up a rather hurtful sentence that was cooly delivered to Imogen, who hadn't picked her gaze up from the floor and appeared to be staring down at her black Converse shoes with the zebra print design that she had filled in with colorful markers.
"You seemed like the type of person that would not hurt somebody. It appears that I thought wrong." Anya, close enough to pick up the cold as ice words that brought a horrid chill down her spine even when they weren't intended for her, slowed the walk as she now didn't know what to do. This person that she didn't know just insulted her friend. Imogen, from the brief time that she has known her, did not come across as somebody that would hurt another person. Like. At all. That happened to be insane talk and her compulsion to stick her nose in business that wasn't hers caused her body to tremble. Fingers tightened around the binder and book that she held in her right hand, it bouncing with uneasiness against her thigh as she contemplated on whether or not to step in or let it be.
The decision came swiftly as the stranger only stood a few seconds longer, his posture as stiff as a board, his glance unwavering as he adjusted the strap of the gray leather bag he carried. He didn't even wait for her to look at him a final time before he spun around and left her without a second glance.
Imogen, who hugged her binder suffocatingly close to her chest, looked up after he left and Anya gingerly stepped over to her, ducking her face downwards to greet her softly. "Hey..."
Her friend's eyes gleamed with tears, that had yet to fall, behind her black rimmed glasses that were halfway down her nose; close enough to slip off if she were to make any sudden movements. With a shaky hand she pushed it up her nose and tried to give a reassuring smile that didn't convince Anya that she was alright. "Hi Anya." her voice filled with a false cheeriness to it
"What? Who was that?" She asked, looking over her shoulder to see if the boy was gone.
"Can we pretend that didn't happen?" The same cheeriness drifted to her face, a faltering smile pulled the edges of her lips up, and Anya didn't know how or what to say and she attempted to do just that. But, she really wanted to know why that guy talked to her in that way or at least learn a name.
"Are you sure? I mean. I can respect you don't want to talk about it and everything. It's just. That was. Wow." She dragged out the 'ow' slowly breathing it out as she didn't now how else to react.
Imogen's features didn't change and she squinted her eyes a little. "I'm sure." Her foot stepped forward, then it went back. "You know what. I think I need to go over there." Imogen pointed at an imaginary point behind her, not even looking back. "We will speak later, Anya MacPherson."
"Oh. Ok. I need to get to Gym anyway. Coach Beiste will more than likely chew my butt out for being late anyway."
Anya felt like she fucked up in some way because she just had to press for Imogen to talk, even after she told her to pretend nothing had taken place. One of her hands touched the cool locker next to her as she watched Imogen walk away and towards the girl's washroom. Her palm turned into a fist and she lightly knocked on the hallow door, scolding herself. "Way to go, you nosey idiot. Why do you do things like that?" The bell rang, bringing her to the present and she jumped. "Shit." her voice low and panicked. "Looks like I'm running laps today."
While she power walked to the gym, Anya tried to figure out what in the world took place in front of her with Imogen and that sharply dressed guy. Also, even though he was a complete mystery to her and she positively had zero idea what his name could be, she couldn't help but feel a pull at her memory bank as if she should know him.
But where?
She mulled it over as she pushed the swinging door open to the girl's locker room but wasn't given much of a chance to continue with her inner search because the coach was in the middle of the front of the room talking to the girls in her class and she gave the tardy girl a stern look. "You know the drill. After you get dressed run three laps around the track. Tardiness is not acceptable in my gym." Her big frame towered over her and she didn't argue. Nobody ever argued with the coach. She was built like a tower and had the capability to bark at you like a rabid dog. There were rumours that she was a total softy inside, but Anya had not seen this and didn't feel like testing it out, especially when she already had three laps looming over her head.
"Yes, Coach." With that she spent the first part of her gym period running in the cold and cursing her curious nature for possibly angering Imogen and now making her current state miserable as the front of her face numbed out from the cold, the chill entering her lungs and stitching her side while the Coach watched from the inside of the gym window.