Messages

You’re about five minutes in. Your teacher hasn’t yet moved onto the lesson plans from the attendance. That’s when you receive a poke. You look over at the person on your right: Joyce Barnes. The very same Brit(or Scot, you never can remember which it is) that was making a scene in the hallway just a minute ago. You still find it unusual for her to draw any kind of attention to herself like that. Then again, she didn’t seem too happy to be doing anything in public right then.

“What?” You ask in a whisper. She hands you a piece of paper she’d torn off from her notebook, folded once.

You accept it and unfold, reading. “Can we talk after class?” You stared at the note, puzzled. She’d never shown interest in you romantically(that you ever noticed).

Curiously, you took out your own mechanical pencil and wrote below her question. Your handwriting, though not illegible, stood out from her neat pen-work. “Why?”

You slid it onto her desk so she could read and reply. She picked up her pen and scribbled a sentence. She, likewise, slid it back to you. “I’ll explain after class, just meet me outside the doorway during passing.”

You recollected a series of memories of how difficult the halls can be between classes. That’d be no good for anything. You pressed on your mechanical pencil, then noticed you had little room left to write back. ‘Shoulda been more conservative of my space before. “That won’t do us any good. Better place.” You passed it to her. You heard an exhale, yet not a sigh. She turned over the paper and inked out another suggestion.

You took it from her hand and read. “Girls Bathroom.” You ogled the paper scrap even more confused now. Surely, she didn’t mean in the stalls. The awkwardness of the crude writing must’ve come to her mind also. She whispered, just as you were gripping your pencil, “Outside it. They’re always huddling inside or somewhere else. Never right outside.”

You nodded and wrote, in big letters, “OK” and flashed the paper to her. She gave a single thumbs up and returned her focus to the lesson, now being displayed on the projector screen up front. You took a moment to look at her. Her clothes were nicer than most of the other students, probably more traditional where she’s from; black leggings, a black skirt, a dark green blouse, and a gray cardigan. You were about to delve into her shape, then decided that you’d gawked enough.