My class is unusually quiet today. Well, maybe unusually isn't the correct word to use, since we are taking a test and typically people are indeed quiet during those. It doesn't really matter how you want to take the utter nonsense that mind just vomited, but it is important to note the silence. Why? Because it used to really bother me. Really, really. Silence makes me think, and as awkward as this sounds, I hate when I have to sit and think. Though life, as a general principle, excites me, it took me a long time before I was able to function this way. Before, I used to act out the way I was feeling, I would shut people out, focus on the negative things in my life. Now, well now I don't. But those negative thoughts, as many of you may know, don't exactly go away. Silence brings them back. I hate silence.
Suddenly there's a small sneeze from across the room, and from memory, I know exactly who's that sneeze that is. My eyes dart over to the source and find her cheeks have turned the slight shade of pink that they tend to get when she unintentionally is made the center of attention.
"Hey! Knock it off, Carlin." My teacher reacts. He's an idiot. Smartest one I know. He knows the ups and downs, inside and out of his subject, and lacks the ability to teach it. He tries to make up for that with wit and charm and humor. They usually work.
I look back over to her just in time for her head to turn and her eyes to lock with mine. I'm not sure the expression she was wearing a second ago, but right now all I can see is the million dollar smile she's flashing me.
One Year Ago.
"Hey, hey, hey, let's make some good ol' days tonight!"
Man, I love this song! Really though, I did before this, but I don't think I've ever liked it this much. Cuz right now, I really, really freaking love this song. I love singing into the silverware at the top of my lungs, I love my back up air guitarist (who's incidentally using a broom), and I love that she's right here next to me, singing at the top of her lungs too.
Who'd of thought it? Really? Spencer Carlin. The Junior Class President. Is here, at Garfield's. Singing weird country songs and oldies, with me, you're resident GDI. (That's what my dad used to call me when I was little and didn't want to play dolls with the other girls; it means "God Damn Individual").
Amazing.
I'm surprised I'm actually able to form coherent sentences, much less remember all the words to this song; she's stand way too close, or maybe not close enough. I can't decide, or maybe I'm not ready to. She's having this kind of effect on me, I've never felt it before, and it's not something I know how to react to.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe she feels it too. It's a magnet, like I always know when she's coming, when she's standing near me. I can feel it. It's like being on a high, like being light-headed and giddy.
Especially right now, because apparently I can't remember all the words to the song, and I've just sincerely screwed one up. From her place, only inches away from my right shoulder, she looks over at me and for a second, we both stop breathing as our gazes lock.
And then our giggles erupt into the air.
See? It's weird because it's so easy. Yes, when she touches me my whole body feels like it's on fire. Yes, when she says my name I feel my heart flutter. Yes, when she's near me I have a problem with motor functions, breathing, and thinking clearly.
That's probably not healthy, but what the hell, I'm young, I'll get better.
One Year Later.
It was like that for the entire time that we worked together. All of five months. Possibly the best of my life. I had a good job, a great best friend, I was doing well in school, and everyday afterschool, I got to hang out with her.
For five months we shared furtive glances, confusing even to ourselves; inside jokes became our specialties', secret non-verbal languages were created, even ones that stumped our co-workers, we stole touches, smiles and, in five months, she managed to do the impossible.
She stole my heart.