May 14, 2005
I.
He leaned against the pillar, let the worn canvas fabric of his bag rub against his shirt, and watched her. Watched as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, watched as she absentmindedly spun the baby dino keychain hanging from her bag in circles, watched as she brushed her hair aside and smiled.
He waited.
She walked past him, barely acknowledging the fact of his presence.
He was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't mind that fact coexisting with the other unknown.
That unknown and what it encompassed happened to be the centre of his universe.
Like -
His legs remained rooted to the spot, not sure if they should follow her or move, away in the opposite direction.
II.
Literature. The class had sunk into its usual stupor, except the usual suspects who eagerly scribbled down notes of how Harper Lee had managed to bring out the main themes of the novel To Kill A Mockingbird through the process of growing up. Literature lessons were a rarity indeed, he mused, as he tore out a blank piece of fulscap and prepared to join the exclusive club of note-takers.
The teacher had spotted him diligently taking down the salient points of what she would have termed an "engaging class discussion". And she felt a growing warmth and pride; warmth and joy at the fact that a student she had classified as "lazy" had finally taken initiative to do his work and pride in her own teaching ability.
Or so it seemed. For all he had been doing was writing her name over and over again and whispering it softly and carefully to himself, afraid that anything else he did would spoil the beauty of those two syllables.
The teacher prowled past his desk and smiled self-indulgently as she read the heading on his piece of paper: "How Growing Up Relates to the Main Themes of TKAM".
III.
The bell rang. He stood, about to follow the throng of people filing out of the classroom. The incessant chatter and noise irritated him a little but he had long ago established that this was part of school life. In this jungle, the animals hunted in packs. People who were like him weren't considered threats; he was of the not-quite-understood-but-ever-present type whom everyone knew and always had a kind word or a smile for but if he wasn't there, nothing would change anyway. He wouldn't dare to change the order of things here. Better to leave it as it had been. That would keep him safe, in the shadows, and watching as always.
Every time you don't look at me, I crumble a little bit inside.
stopfalldrop
Hunched over, face set in a serious scowl.
He leaned against the pillar, let the worn canvas fabric of his bag rub against his shirt, and watched her. Watched as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, watched as she absentmindedly spun the baby dino keychain hanging from her bag in circles, watched as she brushed her hair aside and smiled.
He waited.
She walked past him, barely acknowledging the fact of his presence.
He was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't mind that fact coexisting with the other unknown.
That unknown and what it encompassed happened to be the centre of his universe.
Like -
His legs remained rooted to the spot, not sure if they should follow her or move, away in the opposite direction.
II.
Literature. The class had sunk into its usual stupor, except the usual suspects who eagerly scribbled down notes of how Harper Lee had managed to bring out the main themes of the novel To Kill A Mockingbird through the process of growing up. Literature lessons were a rarity indeed, he mused, as he tore out a blank piece of fulscap and prepared to join the exclusive club of note-takers.
The teacher had spotted him diligently taking down the salient points of what she would have termed an "engaging class discussion". And she felt a growing warmth and pride; warmth and joy at the fact that a student she had classified as "lazy" had finally taken initiative to do his work and pride in her own teaching ability.
Or so it seemed. For all he had been doing was writing her name over and over again and whispering it softly and carefully to himself, afraid that anything else he did would spoil the beauty of those two syllables.
The teacher prowled past his desk and smiled self-indulgently as she read the heading on his piece of paper: "How Growing Up Relates to the Main Themes of TKAM".
III.
The bell rang. He stood, about to follow the throng of people filing out of the classroom. The incessant chatter and noise irritated him a little but he had long ago established that this was part of school life. In this jungle, the animals hunted in packs. People who were like him weren't considered threats; he was of the not-quite-understood-but-ever-present type whom everyone knew and always had a kind word or a smile for but if he wasn't there, nothing would change anyway. He wouldn't dare to change the order of things here. Better to leave it as it had been. That would keep him safe, in the shadows, and watching as always.
Every time you don't look at me, I crumble a little bit inside.
stopfalldrop
Hunched over, face set in a serious scowl.