Where Do We Go From Here?

The mundane learning approach of teachers in Caliremont High can easily be summed by three categories. There are the nice teachers who try their best to make learning fun for their students. This usually involves more group projects and less homework, in which case I am forced to socialize with my peers when in actuality all I want to do is ignore them just as I had my entire life. Then there are the mean teachers who have slowly grown crude due to their extensive years as being an educator. Their outlook towards us students are usually pessimistic and their faces are usually twisted into some sort of scowl. And finally the last category of teachers is my personal favorite. This category can basically be summed up by my art teacher, Ms. Kelly; however, she prefers us to call her Ms. Archer.

Ms. Archer is the type of educator that sees things as is and will tell you exactly that. She doesn’t like bullshit and doesn’t tolerate it; however, she’s not some shriveled up asshole who’s life missions to make our lives a living hell. Ms. Archer is partially my favorite teacher only because she always begins class on some sort of comical or artistic note. She plays a short clip of something interesting and thought provoking, in which I usually get inspired for the entire class period.

Walking into my art class, I prepared myself to sit at the back table alone. Most of everyone who takes this class usually avoids me; partially because I’m about as noticeable as a white crayon on white paper, but also because I tend to never seem nice. I wasn’t looking for friends or significant relationships. The only person I truly needed—other than my family, of course—was Callie.

However, as I walked through the vividly decorated doors of art class, I saw Tony Perry sitting at my table. I stiffened at his presence and fought the urge to roll my eyes when we made eye contact. He smiled when he saw me as I inwardly cringed at his friendly gesture. According to what little gossip I overheard through my years in this waste bin, I garnered some information on Tony Perry. Apparently, he’s one of the most popular guys at school—aside from the cliché suspects, which are your jocks. His popularity spiked during out Sophomore year when he managed to date Christy Spencer—a senior at the time. Since then the buzz—what little I heard anyway—never died down on Tony Perry. He became a known womanizer which added to his “appeal”.

I walked somewhat stiffly towards Tony with a forced smile on my face. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too.” Tony chuckled.

I took my seat, which I scooted an inch further from Tony. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, it just comes naturally.” I shrugged.

He smiled. “It may seem that I am, in fact, following you but to be honest, my guidance counselor thought that art would be a healthy outlet for me.”

“Sounds like you need better guidance.” I mumbled.

He chuckled. “I won’t argue on that one. She thinks I need to find ways on how not to yell at my teachers.”

“Wow, you’re a sharer. I didn’t see that coming.” I commented.

Tony laughed, which caught the attention of everyone in class. “Are you always this pleasant?”

I could feel the stares of jealous girls looking our ways. Their eyes told me their confusion, since I wasn’t beautiful. I had thick legs and if I relaxed too much, my stomach would e noticeable beneath my shirts. My arms had traces of muscles, hidden beneath my weight. I wasn’t fat or skinny, I wasn’t curvy or stick-like, I somehow fell in between categories that made it impossible to stand out.

“I’ve been known to have a real pleasant side on Sundays.” I joked while holding a serious face.

Pulling back my hair in a ponytail, I turned my attention to the front. I could occasionally see the glares of envious girls and some guys craning their necks, wondering if I was a new student.
Ms. Archer came in, wearing her usual artistic yet hippy-esque clothes. I smiled as she took a seat at her desk, turning on her computer screen which was displayed against the wall for everyone to see. Opening up a Google Chrome window, Ms. Archer went into her email and clicked on a video link before turning off the lights of the classroom.

“Try not to be rude.” Ms. Archer commented as I chuckled to myself.

I wasn’t entirely sure but I swear I could feel someone’s eyes burning into my skin. It was this weird sensation of just knowing, when there’s this strong feeling coming from the side of your head. It’s like a buzzing or just this slight burn that radiates from the person staring at you. Giving into my curiosity, I turned my head and caught Tony looking at me. His eyes didn’t even move when I stared back, which was probably the only thing to do. So, with a blank expression on my face I held his stare for a few seconds more before turning my attention back to the video Ms. Archer was playing for us. Once the video finished playing, I had a large smile on my face.

“For those who are wondering about what your next project will be, then this is it. Stop motion photography.” Ms. Archer simply said. “Your topic and subject can be whatever you want it to be, but please try and reach for unique and creativity.”

There were a few confused looks on some of the student’s faces. One girl even had the guts to raise her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Emily.” Ms. Archer called.

“How do you do stop motion photography?” She asked with a bubble-gum type of voice.

I could see the look of skepticism in Ms. Archer’s face. “It’s kind of like one of those flip books you had as a child—or at least, I’m assuming so. Each page contains a small movement which is the equivalent of a single shot.” She explained. “And once you’ve completed all of your shots, you will arrange it into a video. Sound is an option, but originality is a must. Any other questions?”

Another kid raised his hand. “Are we receiving a syllabus for this assignment?”

“Yes, in fact, they’re being printed as we speak.” Ms. Archer answered.

I was inspired. Ripping out a piece of paper, I began writing down different types of ideas. I personally would like to show the growth of plants, or even something that dealt with the progression of a painting.

In my peripherals, Tony leaned over and asked “What are you gonna do?”

I had forgotten he was there. “Unlike you, I’m not a sharer.” I smiled saccharinely sweet.

“What is it, confidential or something?” He asked incredulously.

“No, I’m just not into sharing.” I waved off. “I think you might need to up your game on the Callie front.” I commented while changing the subject.

Tony scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

“She thinks your into me.” I deadpanned blatantly.

“Oh.” Tony mumbled. “Well, it’s probably because you speak more than her and even then you’re not much of a talker.” He said defensively.

Rolling my eyes, I said “Callie is naturally shy and I’m just naturally unpleasant. We make an odd pair, but we’re best friends.”

Tony laughed. “You’re affably refreshing.”

“I’m what?”

“A breath of fresh air.”

“Really?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes, most girls aren’t that honest with me.” Tony smiled a toothy grin.

“To be honest, I’m not really being honest either. I’m actually holding back on you on a remarkable scale too.”

“Yet another reason I find you to be a breath of fresh air.”

“Okay mountain man.” I laughed before returning my attention back to my small list. I contemplated some more before coming to the conclusion of going with the progression of a painting.

The bell rang shortly after, releasing us into the late noon of the day. School was finally done and I was ready to just go home and do nothing.

“Don’t forget the party tonight.” Tony called out to me before I walked out.

Shit! I mumbled to myself.

Notes

All of your lovely comments made me churn out this chapter quicker than expected. Hope y'all enjoy it!! <3