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I had to say I was slightly amused. It was Friday, June 13 2009. Friday the 13th. The unluckiest day of the year. And I had already received my fair share of bad luck. But, as it seems, fate had another idea in mind.
Everyday I would have the same routine. My day consisted mostly of school, like any other teenager my age. Or I should have said, any other teenager that doesn’t skip class and hide behind the portables to smoke a joint. Anyways, before today hit me like a hurricane, I usually sat in the back of class beside the window. I really didn’t mind the seating arrangement. I was a loner and, well, I liked it. Hmm. It kind of looked like a scene out of a typical teenage self-esteem movie. The outsider with long dark hair and emo-like features in the back of the class, beside the dusty window with the cracked glass, right in the corner. How melodramatic. Plus, the teacher didn’t even know my name.
“Uh…Katy…Katherine…Kira…?” he usually stuttered and hesitated when he attempted to call me to answer a question.
“Karen,” I corrected automatically before answering. Oh well. At least that time he had some letters right. I shouldn’t have supposed that he would know my name, however, since I never speak. Just stare. Which most sane people find creepy. Ugh. Now I’m contradicting myself.
I had this odd habit of biting the eraser on the back of my pencil. Some find that annoying, some find it gross. But I had been doing it since elementary school, so I eventually got used to the antagonistic looks and the gross-outs. I didn’t do it much. Just when I was bored, or daydreaming. Daydreaming about HIM.
HIM with capital letters. I know what your assuming. That I’m talking about God. But, no. Although I am Karen Helena Ruth, if that isn’t an obvious Christian name I really couldn’t guess what is, and am the daughter of a well-known priest, I am peculiarly not very religious. Not surprising though, since a lot of teens aren’t. Maybe I’ll grow into religion, maybe I won’t. I wasn’t in too much of a hurry to find out. So. Back to the point. By HIM, I was referring to HIM. As in, the guy who sat in front of me. With the sandy brown hair, drop dead gorgeous green eyes, and a permanent careless relaxed expression that was on his face literally 24/7.
I know what your thinking now. Don’t think I don’t.
Ignoring the weird sentence but you think someone like that is too good for me, don’t you? Well, you wouldn’t be the first and I guess I can’t blame you. HE is the captain of the football team, basketball team, and, too top it off, school president. Yep. HE is too good for me, isn’t HE? Sigh. Life is definitely unfair. I wasn’t born with an ounce of good looks; unless you count freckles. But, apparently, freckles don’t go past the “cute” range.
Everyday I would bit my pencil and stare at this boy and dream. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an obsessed stalker or anything (although I did follow HIM from class to class once…but that was just to see if we had any other classes together! It’s different!). Besides, I doubt HE knows I exist.
So, we’re back to it. Friday the dreadful (yet, for me, lucky) 13th. I took my seat in the back of my first period class unconsciously taking out my notebook and pencil. Then HE, my personal God, turned around with yet another careless expression.
“Karen,” I said, without looking up, instinctively assuming that whoever was speaking was mispronouncing my name as usual.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
I looked up and screamed with sudden alarm.
HIS eyes widened with alarm, “What?!” HE was staring warily at me as if HE was expecting me to suddenly have an epidemic seizure. Who knows. If I hadn’t pulled myself together at the last minute, I probably would have.
Say something! I told myself desperately. Anything! Please!
I swallowed and managed a pathetic, “S-sorry. Thought I saw a bug.” There. That sounded like something a girl would say. “What…what’s up, homie G?” Whoa! My face flushed. Who the Hell said “homie G” nowadays?!
“Oh,” HE seemed unfazed, a little taken aback, but almost completely unfazed. “Well, then. Do you have an extra pencil?”
“Yes!” I scrambled through my pencil case and then realized all of the erasers on my pencils were chewed off. My face flushed once more.
“Hey, its alright if you don’t.” HE said, smiling. “I’ll ask someone else. Did you do the homework last night?”
“Yes,” I said with more confidence. “It was easy.”
HIS brow furrowed. “Really? I found it quite hard especially question 13.”
“Question 13 was easy,” I said. “I had difficulty completing that question at first as well, but I discovered the answer by luck. I was lucky.”
“Lucky, indeed.” HE nodded appreciatively. The teacher came in the room calling for silence. “Well, talk to you later.”
“OK,” I agreed without hesitation.
As HE turned back around, I blinked with surprise. HE had never spoken to me before. HE even knew my name. I struggled furiously not to squeal with delight. It was such a typical girl moment. Damn those female hormones.
Today was Friday the 13th. I always knew that number was lucky.
A slight squeal of absolute happiness found its way out of my mouth, against my will, and I clamped my hand on my lips hard hushing myself. I couldn’t believe I had just squealed. But it wasn’t loud enough for the other students to hear. That I was sure of. As the teacher began his lecture, I quickly peeked at HIM, in front of me, and saw HIS mouth slightly turned up as if HE was smiling. As if HE had heard me. I strained to find the right word that would describe HIS glorious state of relaxation and that perfect crooked smile. HE was…HE was…whimsical.