The Makings: Chapter 3

          The rush of warm air inside the lobby was a welcome escape from the wrath of the winter wind outside. Freshly waxed floors reflected the fluorescent light coming from the ceiling above along with a decorated with a sign declaring, “Welcome Back Panthers!” Trophy cases dotted the walls showcasing the athletic and scholastic achievements of years past. One thing I could be proud of was the fact that along with the fifty other students whose names were posted in the one tiny section allotted for academic merit; my name was engraved on a tiny golden plaque for making a perfect score on the SAT.

        After my brother’s death my main goal in life became getting out of Mobile and I saw college as the perfect opportunity. So, I began immersing myself into my studies almost obsessively – a welcome distraction from the thoughts I knew would immediately bombard me the moment I wasn’t focusing on some type of problem or story. Luckily, my hard work paid off on the SAT. A week after getting my results, I also began receiving mail and phone calls from colleges all over the country. To my chagrin, I didn’t start applying for any colleges or scholarships until December of last semester and I still had a long list of Universities I wanted to apply to before I made any final decisions.

        The more immediate impedance in my plan was the fact that I still had one last semester to go and with my schedule in hand, I mentally kicked myself as I noted my first class of the day was Honors English 12.  I quickened my pace slightly at this realization and rounded the corner that would take me to the building that housed Mrs. James classroom. In my nostalgic mood that morning I completely forgot to grab my copy of Hamlet from off my desk. In any other class that wouldn’t have mattered, but in Mrs. James class, I was sure to catch a lecture not just for being late, but for also forgetting to bring in my book.

         The one time I forgot to do an assignment in her class last semester, she actually made me leave class until I came back with it. Mrs. James was by far the toughest teacher I’d ever had but she was good and she was only tough because she expected so much out of her students – especially those who chose to take her honors classes.

         Walking out the door to the breezeway that adjoined the English department to the lobby, I was greeted by a gust of cool air that nearly took the hood right off my head. Apparently two of my fellow seniors didn’t mind the cold one bit. Sitting behind the schools largest spruce pine, in a sad attempt at hiding, they were doing what any other couple would be doing there – making out. I wouldn’t have even noticed them in my peripheral if it weren’t for the fact that they were making noises like an animal was killing them.

         It was ridiculous how many times someone would get caught behind that tree with their boyfriend/girlfriend of the moment. Even more ridiculous was the fact that many would carve their initials into its trunk followed quickly by a “LUVZ 4EVER” when most of these relationships wouldn’t outlast the month.  Of course, the misspelling of the word “love” is probably a good indicator that these so called “relationships” aren’t in fact based on love. Granted, I’d never been in a relationship before, let alone in love, but I still had a hard time believing that love involved secretly pining over someone other than the person you’re dating while eagerly awaiting the first excuse to dump them so you could be with that other certain someone. It was moments like these that make me realize how happy I am at times to be separated from the whole of “normal” high school life. With any luck they’d get caught before they could do something they’d both regret by the time lunch rolled around. With even more luck, Mrs. James would be late or absent.

         “Doubtful,” I muttered under my breath as I walked through the door of the English Department. The woman had never missed a day in her entire thirty year career. Still, as I rounded the corner to her classroom, I couldn’t help but hold my breath in hope – a breath I exhaled just as quickly into a frustrated sigh when I saw her standing in front of a sleepy group of students reading an excerpt from the very book I forgot to bring with me. 

         Steeling myself, I lowered my hood from my head, shook a few loose beads of water from my hair, and with a muttered “Only one more semester,” opened the door to the stares of the class – suddenly wide awake.

         “Miss Anstice. How nice of you to join us. We were just discussing the first scene in act one of Hamlet – which I’m sure you have committed to heart since I see you failed to bring your book with you today. Would you care to share your views on the significance of this particular scene while you’re up, dear?” Mrs. James asked while removing her glasses from her rather pointy nose to let them hang from the chain attached around her neck. Nearly piercing me with her brown eyed stare, I looked out the window to avoid the eyes of anyone in the classroom while the blood rushed to my cheeks. I knew this was coming but nothing really prepares you for that moment when all eyes are on you waiting to see if you’ll fall. After spending so much time making myself invisible I felt like I had a blinding hot spotlight focused on me after years of being in the dark.

         “Umm . . . “ I started wracking my brain for anything I could remember from reading the play over the break. I vaguely remembered the walls of a castle and a ghost but the heat rushing to my cheeks seemed to be spreading over my entire body now paralyzing me from forming clear thought. I felt like I was slowly being cooked under the stares of the students but I didn’t dare chance a glance in their direction.

         “Shakespeare, he uh . . .” but before I could begin really forming a clear idea of where I was even thinking of taking that sentence, the door to the classroom opened and I could literally feel every eye belonging to a seat in the classroom leave me to see who the new entrant was. Unfortunately, the respite from knowing the class was distracted from me was short-lived because as soon as the door opened I could feel a new, more intense sensation of being watched from the person now standing directly behind me. The heat of my embarrassment was immediately gone. The only thing I could feel now was an icy chill that resonated through every vertebrae in my spine.