Outside In

Outside In - Chapter 3

I looked up at the clock just above the door and was shocked to see that only 30 minutes had passed since the Math test began. All the other students were still hunched over their desks, scratching their papers frantically with their pencils. I looked over my own test again to make sure I hadn't missed a page. Then I reread the questions to make sure I had answered them thoroughly. Everything was complete. This wasn't the first time I had finished a test before everyone else; it happened often in my Math and Science classes, so I wasn't too worried but I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my time. I knew the teacher would let me go once I handed in my test but that would require me to stand up which would surely draw the attention of the rest of the class, something I normally avoided at all costs. There was something about being watched that stopped my brain and the rest of my body working together. Knowing my luck, my kilt would be tucked up into my underwear or some other equally embarrassing fashion faux pas would occur if I stood up now. Since I wasn't really in a hurry to get to Sociology, my last period class, I decided to sit and wait for someone else to stand and draw the attention of the "I can't believe they're done already" looks from the other students.

Mrs. Harshong, my Math teacher, stood up from her desk and began to pace up and down the aisles of desks, her heels making a hollow clap on the floor with each step. I hunched over my desk and began to erase and re-write numbers, hoping she would assume I was still writing. As she passed by, her long floral skirt brushed the side of my desk, causing my extra pencil to fall to the floor. The soft slap of the pencil making contact with the linoleum floor echoed through the quiet room. In my peripheral vision, I could see heads pop up and faces turn toward me. My cheeks filled with heat and I knew they must be bright red. I reached down quickly to pick the pencil up and, as I leaned back into my seat, I scanned the room. Everyone had gone back to their tests, everyone except one pair of dark eyes that were looking straight at me. He wore the same smirk he had that Friday afternoon when he had apologized for leaving his bag on the ground. Our eyes locked for a split second and then I looked away quickly, my mouth suddenly dry. I swear I could hear him chuckling softly but I didn't dare look over at him again. I clenched my hands into tight fists in an effort to stop their shaking and tried to breath evenly to slow my racing heart. What was it about Nick English that caused me to react this way? I looked over at him from the corner of my eye, being careful to prevent my head from turning, and found him working on his test.

"20 minutes left, everyone." Mrs. Harshong's shrill voice pierced through the silence and suddenly everyone's hands began to write a little faster. I looked back at the clock and silently willed SOMEONE to finish their test so I could get out of there. I was suddenly regretting chugging down that bottle of water right before the test started. I pressed my thighs together tightly as my bladder threatened to burst; I couldn't wait much longer or I really would embarrass myself.

As if answering my silent plea, Andrew Michelson slid his chair back and stood up with his test. As predicted, everyone looked up to see who the first person to finish would be. As he passed by my desk on the way to the front of the room, I scurried to my feet and followed. I placed my test on Mrs. Harshong's desk and walked briskly to the door, glancing quickly at Melanie whose face bore a "this is hopeless" expression as she looked up. I sent her what I hope was a reassuring smile, jerked the door open and walked to the washroom as quickly as I could without breaking out into an all-out run.

There was another 10 minutes before the period was over and I knew Melanie would be writing her test until the end. Math was definitely not her strongest subject. We had spent the entire Sunday afternoon that weekend cramming for this test. Actually, I spent the entire afternoon trying to shift her focus from Greg, Nick and the party I still wasn't going to. When I managed to get her to concentrate on the Math material, she seemed to pick it up fairly quickly but something always happened to her when it came time to write the tests. Math seems so straight forward to me; there are rules and steps to follow and once you've memorized those, you can't really go wrong. When I tried to explain this to Mel, she would roll her eyes and say, "I prefer tests where there really is no wrong answer, less pressure." SO, of course, her favourite subject was English. Nobody could weave an entire essay out of thin air like Melanie; I swear she could convince a person that the sky was red in 500 words or less. We complimented each other very well in this respect because where I excelled in Math, I was terrible in English class. I would complete all the reading, take excellent notes and still have no clue when it came to writing essays. Luckily Mel would always help me find my thesis and then proof read and edit (or re-write) my work so I always had a decent finished product to turn in. But I couldn't write her Math tests for her.

From the look on her face when I left the room, I could tell she was going to be very upset with herself when the test was over. I decided against going to my locker so I could be there for her, even briefly, when the period was over. I sat on the floor outside our classroom and started on the reading that had been assigned earlier that day in English class. Our new reading assignment was Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. I was happy that I had at least seen My Fair Lady several times and hoped that this was a case where the movie mirrored the book.

The bell rang just as Henry Higgins ushered Eliza Doolittle into his home. The sharp ring echoed through the empty hallways and they quickly began to fill as students poured from the now opened doors to each classroom. I stood up quickly, just in time to avoid being trampled. I looked for Melanie through the faces of the oncoming crowd and felt strangely like a fish swimming upstream. Finally I caught a glimpse of her yellow hair band and pushed my way toward her. As I suspected, she bore a look of defeat on her face. Her forehead creased as she drew her eyebrows in; I could tell she was suppressing tears of frustration. I smiled at her and put my arm around her shoulder.

"It can't have been THAT bad," I said lightly, although I knew just how low a mark she was capable of getting.

She just shook her head and said, "I can't stomach Home Economics. Do you want to skip last period with me?"

Skipping classes was never something I liked to do. It wasn't really that I was afraid to get in trouble or that I particularly enjoyed going to class but it always seemed to cause more trouble than it was worth. A call home from a teacher questioning my absence would fall on deaf ears, as they would be forced to leave a message on our voice mail. Inevitably I would be the only one home to get the message and then I would have to make some excuse as to why I had no parent available for them to speak with. I had become quite proficient at this and, as teachers would quickly lose patience and be satisfied with my normally high marks and participation, the issue would resolve itself and I would, in effect, get away with it. I would, however, receive punishment in the form of once again having my attention drawn to the fact that, at the moment, my family was extremely dysfunctional. The concerned questions from the teaching staff about why my parents were never home, the half-truths I had to tell them in order to prevent them from insisting on a parent-teacher meeting, all forced me to see my family for what it was - broken.

Looking at Melanie's face right now, though, made it almost seem worth all this trouble if it would cheer her up; she was the closest thing I had to a sister and I think I almost felt worse than she did when she was upset.

"Sure. Where do you want to go?" I asked as we flowed with the crowd toward the stairwell.

"How about to the coffee shop?" The male voice was accompanied by an arm wrapping around my shoulders. I looked over to see that Nick was now standing between us with one arm wrapped around me and the other around Melanie. We both stared at him dumbly; clearly Melanie was as shocked by his actions as I was. Yesterday had been his first "official" day of school and, although I had caught glimpses of him in the halls throughout the day, he hadn't even so much as looked in my direction. Even in Math class he was already at his seat when Melanie and I walked in the door and was having an animated conversation with Pamela Couts, the Student Council treasurer with a C-cup chest and waving dark hair. Melanie had confided in me while we spoke on the phone later that night that she was afraid he and Greg had changed their minds about inviting us to the party; she was now beginning to believe that they were just being polite. I had to laugh at that, though. Greg Timken did not seem like the kind of guy who did anything "just to be polite" and Mel was delighted when I told her as much.

"Ummm, sure. I think an iced cappuccino will definitely help me forget about the fact that I am probably going to flunk Math," Melanie managed to say with a smile. She looked uneasily toward me and Nick's dark eyes followed suit. It was clear that I was expected to say something but, once again, something in those soft dark eyes caused all logical thought to float out of my brain and I could feel the dreaded flush creep up my neck toward my cheeks. I began to panic a little when I realized that I really couldn't think of what to say; my palms began to itch and I hoped that they couldn't see the beads of sweat that I could feel forming on my upper lip. I looked away from them, pretending to check my bag for my wallet. As soon as Nick's face was out of my line of sight, the words came back.

"Sure. That's fine with me." I knew how awkward that had been. I knew that Melanie understood but Nick probably thought I was a moron.

I felt Nick's arm tighten on my shoulder as he guided us down the stairs. I wouldn't look in his face again. I just concentrated my focus on my feet as we descended the stairs, but I could hear a smile in his voice when he replied, "Yeah, ice cappuccino sounds good. First round's on me."

The coffee shop was located just across the street from school and was usually packed with students on their lunch period but we managed to find a vacant table by the window. Once we had ordered and received our drinks, Melanie and Nick did most of the talking, which was just the way I'd hoped it would go. I stuck to safe subjects like school work and movies I had seen when it was my turn to fill in any silences. I realized that my silence was conspicuous and I hoped that I wasn't embarrassing Melanie too much. She was always a really good sport in situations that required any level of conversational skills and she made up for my lack of them admirably. As I watched the two of them talk, throwing in the occasional nod and smile to show that I was paying attention, I wondered if maybe Melanie was interested in him. He was an attractive guy, built of lean muscle and broad shoulders. He wore a faded jean jacket over his uniform and when he removed it, his white golf shirt left his muscular tanned arms exposed.

When he laughed at something Melanie said, his bright friendly smile created a dimple on each of his cheeks. He could be a movie star; he definitely had that kind of charisma.

"What do you think, Sam?" Melanie's questioning eyes were on me. For a second I thought she had been reading my mind and wanted to know my opinion of Nick but then I quickly realized I had missed something in the conversation.

"Sorry? Think about what?" I asked as I diverted my eyes away from Nick and focussed on Melanie; if I could pretend he wasn't sitting there, maybe I could avoid looking like an idiot for a minute.

Melanie laughed, "About the party?"

My mind went blank again. Melanie knew I didn't want to go but I suspected she was asking in front of Nick, hoping that I wouldn't be able to say "No" in front of him. She was partly right; I didn't want to offend him or embarrass Melanie.

"Come on Sam. It'll be fun. Me, you, Mel and Greg - we'll go as a foursome." Nick's voice filled the air between us and I almost made the mistake of looking at him but instead I looked down at my watch. It was 3:25 and the final bell was going to ring in five minutes. Thankful for the excuse to escape this latest dilemma, I stood up quickly. My chair rocked back as its legs caught in a crack on the floor. Nick's hand shot out and caught it before it could fall. Flushing yet again, I gathered my things together.

"I don't think so, but I'll think about it, okay?" I looked over at Melanie and she was no longer smiling; a look of concern crossed her face. "You mean you'll think of a reason to get out of it, right?" she said but the smile that had faded from her face was still in her voice.

"Something like that. I've got to go catch my bus," I explained, glancing quickly at Nick who was wearing a calm expression, seemingly oblivious to my frazzled state. I smiled at them both before turning for the door.

As I walked away, I heard Melanie whisper apologetically, "Sam's not really a people person," followed by Nick's soft chuckle.

"Really?" I heard him reply with an unmistakeable hint of humour and interest in his voice. I could almost feel his mischievous black eyes following me as I walked out the door.