HOME | DD

Description
Spare was particularly boring that day. Given the fact that I had an entire hour and a half of doing nothing prior to Social Studies, it was sort of an obligation to take that time and study for my test. I didn’t want to. Who wants to read over their half assed notes in an attempt to understand what not even the teacher can explain? Alas, I found myself at the tables by the chapel anyway, sitting in utter solitude save for the occasional person walking by, reading those very notes over and over again. However, this solitude didn’t last long.

I don’t even remember you walking down the hallway towards me. It was like I looked up all of a sudden and you were there, standing at the other end of the table, pulling up a chair. It was a pleasant surprise- I didn’t want to spend the entire spare with the only thing but my social studies to accompany me- so I didn’t object to you taking a seat. Besides, you were alone too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your search for our mutual friends had turned up in nothing, just like what had happened to me at the beginning of that very spare and ultimately resulted in my reluctant but much needed studying.

I didn’t know you very well at that point. I had only met you a few times prior, but in the security of a group of friends. This time was different. We were alone; with the danger of an awkward silence to fall over us should we run out of things to say to one another. I had an entire unit of notes to turn to should that silence arise, but you had nothing but an old, ripped up Metro in front of you. It’s no wonder you kept talking.

You were quite polite about it. You knew I was studying, and frequently asked me if I wanted you to leave. As I normally do, I said ‘no’, not wanting to hurt your feelings, but ultimately, not wanting to be alone. Although studying for social does require absolute concentration if you want to stand a chance of relearning anything taught in class, deep down I was dead set on doing anything but studying. The notes we were given were too brief, the concepts too elaborate to understand, and the textbook was as much use as an entire ream of blank paper. Yet, I had sat myself down that spare and told myself I was going to study. I needed to. Social studies was my lowest mark, and I felt as though I had to dig myself out of the hole before I sunk deeper. Staring at my notes, reading about constitutional democracy for the fifth time, and checks and balances for the ninth, I felt the stress start to fizz in my chest, and the urge to slam my books shut became more and more pronounced.

Then:
PLOINK!

Something minute whizzed past me and landed on the floor behind me, landing with a delicate sound that was so subtle I wouldn’t have noticed had the object not flown through my peripheral vision.

Again:
PLOINK!

This was went by closer than the last, but again, landed on the floor behind me.

PLOINK!

PLOINK! PLOINK! PLOINK!

I was starting to become quite amused, and a grin crawled its way up my face. Until finally:

PLOINK!!

One of them hit me daintily on the head and tumbled to the page before me. It was a tiny piece of balled up Metro, and I immediately looked up at you.

“You don’t mind, do you?” you asked, your brow rising in an inquisitive manner.

“Oh no.” I replied pleasantly, turning back to the page I was reading before I was disrupted, “I can still study.”

The latter was a flat out lie, for as the clock ticked away, I soon found myself chuckling and smiling at every little piece of paper you threw at me, breaking my concentration from my entirely necessary note reading. I was considering telling you to stop, but I couldn’t do that to you. I felt as though being blunt like that in the early stages of our relationship was harsh, especially to a sweet guy like you. Even where we are now, I still feel that way, even though I know you can take it.

On you went, tossing bits of news stories at me. Some went right over my head, some landed in my hair, and some plopped right down on the paper before me. In my head, I kept reciting the words ‘You’ve got to study... you’ve got to study...’ over and over, with each paper bit serving as a derailment of my thoughts.

‘The will of the electorate is- PLOINK!’
‘Population is divided by- PLOINK!’
‘A government with jurisdiction can- PLOINK!’

Eventually, I gave up reading, and simply anticipated the next paper bit to come flying at me. At that point, it became apparent that studying was out of the question.

“You are going to pick those up right?” I asked, glancing up at you, catching you mid toss.

“Of course.” You said as the piece flew to my right, and you went to rip another piece from the Metro.

“Good.” I said, collecting several pieces off my binder and pushing it towards you, “I feel sorry for the janitors- having to clean up after a bunch of teens.”

The look you gave me was more sympathetic than I expected.

“Yeah, I agree.”

I don’t recall exactly what happened afterwards. I know for a fact that you went around and picked up every tiny piece of paper, only to throw them back at me and have to pick them all up again, but I made no effort to stop you. You found it entertaining, and I sat there looking blankly at my notes, fooling myself into thinking I was still studying. We probably had some pretty great conversations too, but it’s all a blur.

I just remember at the end of the period, just before the bell rang, I closed my books and helped you pick up the countless little pieces of paper that lie asunder. It was comical really, how they were scattered everywhere about the chair I had been in, and I recall running my fingers through my hair to get any straggling pieces of paper out.

When the bell rang, we walked up the hall together, before you broke away down anther path to head to your locker. It was like this for quite a while, until I started tagging along with you down this other path- taking that little detour on my way to class just to accompany you for a few minutes more. As the year progressed even further, we would actually stop at my classroom door to say goodbye rather than just casually bidding farewell and walking our separate ways. Then, it took longer for us to part, not wanting to go to class and feel that horrible emptiness from the other’s absence. Then finally, came the sweet little kiss goodbye, and I would duck into my class and you’d walk to yours.

Things were so different back then. Back when we were testing the grounds of a new friendship. One that neither of us expected would grow into something far stronger. Who knows though. Maybe you knew that our friendship would become something more- a little secret that you saw that I was still blind to. Maybe you knew all along, and maybe that first little piece of paper to hit my head and bring my attention towards you was the first time you ever told me:

“I love you.”

Description
Spare was particularly boring that day. Given the fact that I had an entire hour and a half of doing nothing prior to Social Studies, it was sort of an obligation to take that time and study for my test. I didn’t want to. Who wants to read over their half assed notes in an attempt to understand what not even the teacher can explain? Alas, I found myself at the tables by the chapel anyway, sitting in utter solitude save for the occasional person walking by, reading those very notes over and over again. However, this solitude didn’t last long.

I don’t even remember you walking down the hallway towards me. It was like I looked up all of a sudden and you were there, standing at the other end of the table, pulling up a chair. It was a pleasant surprise- I didn’t want to spend the entire spare with the only thing but my social studies to accompany me- so I didn’t object to you taking a seat. Besides, you were alone too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your search for our mutual friends had turned up in nothing, just like what had happened to me at the beginning of that very spare and ultimately resulted in my reluctant but much needed studying.

I didn’t know you very well at that point. I had only met you a few times prior, but in the security of a group of friends. This time was different. We were alone; with the danger of an awkward silence to fall over us should we run out of things to say to one another. I had an entire unit of notes to turn to should that silence arise, but you had nothing but an old, ripped up Metro in front of you. It’s no wonder you kept talking.

You were quite polite about it. You knew I was studying, and frequently asked me if I wanted you to leave. As I normally do, I said ‘no’, not wanting to hurt your feelings, but ultimately, not wanting to be alone. Although studying for social does require absolute concentration if you want to stand a chance of relearning anything taught in class, deep down I was dead set on doing anything but studying. The notes we were given were too brief, the concepts too elaborate to understand, and the textbook was as much use as an entire ream of blank paper. Yet, I had sat myself down that spare and told myself I was going to study. I needed to. Social studies was my lowest mark, and I felt as though I had to dig myself out of the hole before I sunk deeper. Staring at my notes, reading about constitutional democracy for the fifth time, and checks and balances for the ninth, I felt the stress start to fizz in my chest, and the urge to slam my books shut became more and more pronounced.

Then:
PLOINK!

Something minute whizzed past me and landed on the floor behind me, landing with a delicate sound that was so subtle I wouldn’t have noticed had the object not flown through my peripheral vision.

Again:
PLOINK!

This was went by closer than the last, but again, landed on the floor behind me.

PLOINK!

PLOINK! PLOINK! PLOINK!

I was starting to become quite amused, and a grin crawled its way up my face. Until finally:

PLOINK!!

One of them hit me daintily on the head and tumbled to the page before me. It was a tiny piece of balled up Metro, and I immediately looked up at you.

“You don’t mind, do you?” you asked, your brow rising in an inquisitive manner.

“Oh no.” I replied pleasantly, turning back to the page I was reading before I was disrupted, “I can still study.”

The latter was a flat out lie, for as the clock ticked away, I soon found myself chuckling and smiling at every little piece of paper you threw at me, breaking my concentration from my entirely necessary note reading. I was considering telling you to stop, but I couldn’t do that to you. I felt as though being blunt like that in the early stages of our relationship was harsh, especially to a sweet guy like you. Even where we are now, I still feel that way, even though I know you can take it.

On you went, tossing bits of news stories at me. Some went right over my head, some landed in my hair, and some plopped right down on the paper before me. In my head, I kept reciting the words ‘You’ve got to study... you’ve got to study...’ over and over, with each paper bit serving as a derailment of my thoughts.

‘The will of the electorate is- PLOINK!’
‘Population is divided by- PLOINK!’
‘A government with jurisdiction can- PLOINK!’

Eventually, I gave up reading, and simply anticipated the next paper bit to come flying at me. At that point, it became apparent that studying was out of the question.

“You are going to pick those up right?” I asked, glancing up at you, catching you mid toss.

“Of course.” You said as the piece flew to my right, and you went to rip another piece from the Metro.

“Good.” I said, collecting several pieces off my binder and pushing it towards you, “I feel sorry for the janitors- having to clean up after a bunch of teens.”

The look you gave me was more sympathetic than I expected.

“Yeah, I agree.”

I don’t recall exactly what happened afterwards. I know for a fact that you went around and picked up every tiny piece of paper, only to throw them back at me and have to pick them all up again, but I made no effort to stop you. You found it entertaining, and I sat there looking blankly at my notes, fooling myself into thinking I was still studying. We probably had some pretty great conversations too, but it’s all a blur.

I just remember at the end of the period, just before the bell rang, I closed my books and helped you pick up the countless little pieces of paper that lie asunder. It was comical really, how they were scattered everywhere about the chair I had been in, and I recall running my fingers through my hair to get any straggling pieces of paper out.

When the bell rang, we walked up the hall together, before you broke away down anther path to head to your locker. It was like this for quite a while, until I started tagging along with you down this other path- taking that little detour on my way to class just to accompany you for a few minutes more. As the year progressed even further, we would actually stop at my classroom door to say goodbye rather than just casually bidding farewell and walking our separate ways. Then, it took longer for us to part, not wanting to go to class and feel that horrible emptiness from the other’s absence. Then finally, came the sweet little kiss goodbye, and I would duck into my class and you’d walk to yours.

Things were so different back then. Back when we were testing the grounds of a new friendship. One that neither of us expected would grow into something far stronger. Who knows though. Maybe you knew that our friendship would become something more- a little secret that you saw that I was still blind to. Maybe you knew all along, and maybe that first little piece of paper to hit my head and bring my attention towards you was the first time you ever told me:

“I love you.”