7th period shop: Rachel

You never know what a Friday might bring. And on a day like today, it seems like anything is possible. So you walk with anticipation toward your Industry and Technology classroom where, as you have for the past four weeks, you'll try to at least make eye contact with Rachel.

The front of the classroom has traditional rows of single desks; behind them is the large area that doubles as a lab and a shop. When you enter the room, only desks in the front row are available. You catch a glimpse of Rachel sitting in the back; she's looking down at her desk and doesn't seem to notice you coming in.

Yesterday was the last day of a unit, so today, Mr. Warren will assign you a new "module" with a new lab partner. After taking attendance, your teacher gives piles of identical papers to the students in the front of each row, assuming their automatic understanding of the "take one and pass the stack" routine. This is the new module assignment, and after you pass on the papers to the student behind you, you peruse the listing.

Wordworking, Wiring, Robotics, Flight Simulation, Broadcasting...

Then you see your name listed next to Photography. Yes! you cheer silently as you notice that Rachel is your lab partner. Today really is my lucky day.

The class disperses, each pair making their way to a lab station to read over the instructions that will guide their work. You reach the photography station before Rachel and glance over its contents. Several high quality cameras, lenses of different shapes and sizes, film, a computer, a manual for a photo editing program, and so on. You notice a pair of lists of photography subjects, each attached to a hall pass, and learn that you and your lab partner will have the freedom to explore the school grounds to try to find interesting subjects to capture on film. This looks like fun! you think. Plus, I'm sure I can put any photography tips to good use...

Finally, Rachel approaches and sits down next to you. The silence is tremendously awkward, and it becomes apparent that Rachel is not going to be the one to break it.

"Hey, Rachel," you offer.

"Hi, Sam," she replies.

"I'm glad we have a chance to work together!" you say brightly. Rachel doesn't answer, and you don't push things further. "Hey," you say, "there are some instructions here. Maybe we should read over these first?" Rachel looks up at you and nods. You hand her the paper and try to focus on it.

Well, I guess now I'll find out how much she hates me, you think to yourself. I thought we really shared something special, but I was kidding myself to think it was even possible that all that awful stuff was somehow a turnon for her. I'm probably the only pervert who would get a rush out of what we went through...

After you finish reading the module's instructions, you speak up again. "Looks like we're supposed to take some pictures now so we can see how much we improve. Want to take a stab at this list?"

"Sure," Rachel says. You each grab a camera, tell Mr. Warren that you're heading out for your first assignment, and walk out of the classroom together.

"Maybe we should try a flower first? Get some fresh air outside?"

"Okay," Rachel says, still not making eye contact.

The two of you slowly walk toward the back door of the school, which will lead to a little picnic area with some flowers and trees. As usual, Rachel looks stunning even though her outfit is fairly modest. Her yellow sundress covers her shoulders and doesn't show any cleavage, but her large breasts are still prominently framed. The dress goes nearly to her knees, leaving the inviting allure of her legs tantalizing out of reach. You notice that Rachel's wearing stylish glasses that highlight her full, black hair; that seems new, and it seems like another way to break the ice.

"Hey, I like your glasses."

"Thanks," she says.

"I didn't know you needed them."

"Yeah," she replies. "I usually wear contacts. I actually can hardly see anything without them."

"Oh, my mom's like that," you say. "She couldn't read the word on a STOP sign from ten feet away."

"That's funny," Rachel says. "My mom's the opposite. She can see perfectly, and I'm the one with shitty eyes."

"Oh come on," you say, "Your eyes are far from shitty." You pause for a moment. "How's that for a compliment?"

Rachel smiles, causing you to smile as well.

You reach the back door of the school and head outside. It's hot but actually much more pleasant than it was inside. There's a very nice breeze, and the warm spring air would make anyone happy at the end of a long week of school.

You each find a flower to take a picture of and then a bench. You agree to try to find a wild animal and start looking around for birds or squirrels or whatever.

Finally, you feel like you need to address the elephant in the room. "I've been trying to reach you for the past couple weeks. But you're totally ignoring me." She's quiet. "I'm really sorry about what happened that night, and I just feel like we should talk about it."

"Sam," she breathes. She doesn't say anything else.

"Listen, I understand if you hate me - but at least could you let me know? Somehow I convinced myself that we actually had some kind of weird connection, and if I'm crazy, I'd prefer to know sooner than later."

Rachel doesn't respond. She points out a bird flying toward a tree and starts to walk in that direction. You follow a few steps behind her.

"You're not crazy," she says as she aims her camera at the tree branches.

I'm not? you think. "I'm not?" you ask.

"No. At least, I don't think so." She's still trying to take a picture of the bird but can't get a good angle.

"Well, why haven't you been talking to me?"

"Sometimes it's easier to look at things from a distance, you know?" she says. "Like looking at life through a camera. It's not as real ... but it's also not as scary as the real thing."

"You don't need to be afraid of what happened. It's behind us."

"I think..." she trails off. She climbs up on a nearby picnic table to try to get a better look at the bird. And then she mumbles something you can't hear.

You move closer, sitting on the bench attached to her table and say, "Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I said, I think I'm afraid because I liked what happened. And I like you."

You're genuinely stunned. You definitely didn't expect a moment of such tenderness from Rachel after all these weeks of radio silence. You look up to reply and see that she's focused her attention on the bird in the tree. She's looking up, her arms raised above her head, holding the digital camera.

And you're staring directly at her ass.

You can see right under her dress, which billows in your direction in the wind. You love her ass, even clad in plain white panties, and you feel a catch in your throat. You want to have a tender moment with this girl who seems to have some kind of feelings for you, but you're also an 18-year-old boy face-to-face with a sexy behind.

So you compromise with yourself. No candid upskirt pictures, but can you blame yourself for looking when she planted herself right above you?

She takes her photograph and climbs down the other side of the picnic table, unaware--you hope--of the show she was giving you. She sits down and faces you.

"I like you too, Rachel." The words just come out, and you discover that you mean them. Yes, you like Rebecca, too; very much. And you'd fuck any girl on the cheerleading squad--yeah, even Karishma--if you had the chance. But you really do like Rachel, and you want her to know it.

She smiles at you, and you smile back.

"So, maybe you'll return my texts now?" you ask.

"Haha, sure," she says.

The rest of the period passes uneventfully. You talk about photography and school and subjects definitely not connected to sex, nudity, cheerleading, sex, Rachel's hot mom, the upcoming football game, or sex.

You walk back to class, return your gear, and pack up your things when the bell rings.

"Have a nice afternoon, Sam," Rachel tells you.

"You too," you reply. "See you later at the game!"

"OK, great!" Rachel says.

Only after you part ways do you remember what Madison had warned about Rachel. You had such a pleasant afternoon with her; do you really want to spoil it with troubling news? As you surge with a thousand other teenagers away from the school, you can't decide whether to alert Rachel of Madison's anger or leave things be.

As you consider it, you get a text message from Rebecca.

Rebecca: i hope u thought about tonight. lets talk.