history

She’s staring at me. She’s staring at me again. I shift as her brown eyes bore into my thoughts. All my private imaginings become observed, qualified, judged, all in a sea of glistening brown.
“Pay attention in class please, daydream on your own time.”
“Sorry Mrs. Halper, I was thinking about the horror of the Jew’s persecution.”
“Then you should participate and share your ideas with the class.”
“Yes Mrs. Halper.”
My heart beats a little faster as I look back at her and see liquid hazel still pouring into my soul. I can’t take the pressure. I get up and walk to the door, muttering something about going to the bathroom. In the bathroom I turn on the water and plunge my head into the sink. The cold water washes away all my grogginess, eliminating m¥ doubt. My head dripping on the floor, I reel out the paper towel roll, winding it around my head till I look like a movie mummy from the neck up. As the water seeps down my shirt, my thoughts slide back to last night, and all that had happened. I left the bathroom, wondering how I was going to get through the day. She was in the hall, waiting for me as I came out.
“Hey,” She said, “What’s up?”
“Not too much, just hanging out, trying not to go to class.”
“What’s wrong, you’ve been weird.”
“Nothing, just looking for someplace to stay.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
“My parents are at home.” I said
“They’re fighting? I’m sorry.”
“No, they love each other, it’s me that’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand.” She said
“Please, it’s ok, just some problems in my life.”
“Tell me, it will make you feel better.”
“”I don’t think so, it’s not your problem.”
“Trust me on this one, you will feel better.”
“Ok,” I said, “I think they hate me.”
“That’s impossible, all parents love their children.”
“Well, not hate, but. They. I don’t think I’m good enough for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not good enough.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re wonderful.”
“Not to them, it has to do with my brother.” I said
“What about him! I thought he messed up in high school?” She said
“Sort of.”
“Well then, what’s your reasoning?”
“He’s an artist.”
“So? You do art too.”
“It’s different, not like him, not REAL art, painting and drawing.”
“Why does it matter?”
“My grandparents were artists.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My parents were born in art, born and bred.”
“My parents are lawyers, I don’t want to be one, and they aren’t going to make me.”
“But my brother is too, I’m the only one,” I said “I don’t even fit in my family.”
She looked at me for a long time, her eyes parceling me into all my little pieces. I felt naked; nothing now hid me from her, no lies. Truth is scary, and right now its viscous claws were digging into my vocal cords, as her eyes delved into my soul.
Ten minutes later we broke apart, the physical sign off affection reinforced the idea that I was worth something, at least more than the razor blade’s edge.
We walked along in awkward silence. I relished the tension as a sign that she really cared. A quick glance showed me that her brilliant mind was working. Probably examining every facet of me inside her brain and determining what I was worth to her. We stopped walking; having gone up the stairs and reached a decision. Almost saying something, she turned. Our eyes met, and a realization slowly dripped through me like the fake syrup you get at diners, slowly spreading till it reached my head.
I sent her back to class, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stand it if she got a cut in history, especially because of me. I needed time to think. On the roof its peaceful, only the elevator room to keep you company with its thumps of people too lazy to walk up the stairs. Because of her, I knew that I could no longer leave, she was worth too much. So I made a decision.
The class was over when I went back. Mrs. Halper was angry, but a false upset stomach changed criticism to concern. With her dealt with, I went to the place I could always find her when she needed to think. Entering the library was a weird experience, having never been there this early before, it was empty, with only one small figure in the corner, curled up with a book. I walked up to her, and squished her curled up body into my chest. She squeaked. Somehow I managed to rig a grin onto my face, but I still probably looked like the devil had chewed me and then shat me out.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Are you ok?” she said
“No, I found something out.”
“What? Do you need my help?”
“Yes. I’m thinking of leaving home, I’ve got enough money to rent a place in the Bronx, and then I’ll figure it out from there. Get a job or something. I’m going to have to stop coming to Dalton. My parents can barely pay the reduced tuition; maybe if they don’t have to their opinion of me will go up. But now there’s another problem.”
“This is crazy.”
“What? People have run away before.”
“No, it’s not that. What’s the other problem?” She said
I looked up from my determined glare at the floor when she said that, not wanting to see her
eyes, to find what I knew was waiting for me there. Our eyes and thoughts met at the same time, her gaze showing me the truth again. I almost hit myself for being oblivious before, now there seemed nowhere to turn to escape her feelings. Her constant willingness to help me out no matter what her situation made sense. Somehow, I now had another attachment to this world that I so desperately wanted to escape. I wanted nothing more but to throw myself away, to a different place, or time, or life, but some human part in me resist the rejection, desired the feeling that she cared, that I was worthwhile to her at least. I said yes to her, answering the question in her eyes instead of the one that had come off her lips. Now I’m just as happy, and I can’t go anywhere.