Excerpt from Chapter 6
by Jody French
I linger by the door jam of Mr. Kroger's math class with thirty seconds to go until the tardy bell sounds to text Rachel. "Matt wants us to meet him at his table by the vending machines for lunch!! eeeeeek!! :)" I press send.
Ten seconds later a return text from Rachel, "Oooooo! Emily n Matt sittin in a tree! (you know the rest) lol Sure thing! smooches! <3"
The tardy bell rings and I float to my seat. For the first time in the history of Algebra class, I sit with a huge smile on my face. Math is not my forte. I usually dread the, (x+y)-2='s WHATEVER---but, today not even math class can bring me down.
I quickly review the chapter worksheet assigned by Mr. Kroger, thankful that I don't have to use my brain to a great extent, then rip out a piece of notebook paper from my spiral. There's a creative cloud in my brain full of emotional rain. Unlike some love struck girls who doodle hearts, or write their crush's name over and over in different script, I write words---songs.
I scribble a title at the top of the college ruled paper---
Wax and fire, a candle wick burns
The steel in your eyes, when you slowly turn
Volcano ash drifts in the air that I breathe
A catch in my throat when you tug at my sleeve
Like ice in the sun, and water in sand
I melt to your touch, when you hold my hand
You melt away pain, turn dark into day
Melt---you melt me---it all goes away~
The screaming bell totally startles me. I jump in my seat. My face immediately turns red with embarrassment. I feel completely exposed, like when I dream I actually go to school without my shirt on---and no notices except for vulnerable, mortified me!
I get so lost in writing; the world around me ceases to exist. Time stands still when I'm engrossed in composing lyrics or playing my guitar. I'm at a loss for time and space---My hair's on fire---the world's ending! Who cares...hold on! Let me finish this line!
"I bid you good day, students. I assume you will all be prepared for your quiz over chapter 12 tomorrow." Mr. Kroger drones in a monotone, as he adjusts his brown leather pocket protector.
Mr. Kroger is a Brown---all business and no play (makes Mr. Kroger a dull boy).