~*~

“Good morning Mr. Hunter.” Mr. Thorpe called cheerfully as I slunk my way into class on Monday morning. I’d hoped to ease in unseen, but there was no getting away with that in English. Mr. T was too loud. But as I glanced around I saw that Denny wasn’t there yet anyway. I fell into my seat, nervously awaiting the awkwardness that was undoubtedly coming.

My best friend had spent the whole remainder of the weekend avoiding me. He’d refused to text me back or answer my calls. For the first time in months he’d stayed away from Hester’s for an entire two days, and I had no doubts that that had just about killed him to miss out on two days worth of Mr. Bell’s Cheesy Hawaiian. Things were bad for him to do that. I’d hope nbhrweI cracked my knuckles and played with the strings on my hoodie, feeling the time creep by on little snail feet.

 “Good morning Mr. Risor.” As always, a few heads turned to the back of the room as Mr. Thorpe called out, but I stared at the floor. I heard Denny shuffle across the room.

Denny replied a good morning to Mr. Thorpe and then plopped down in his usual chair next to me.

Well that’s something at least. I thought. The other students trickled in one by one and then class began. Denny didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at him. Frustrated and preoccupied, I stared at the brown wood of the desk, digging deeper into thought until I was lost to this world, too buried beneath worry and doubt.

  “Aaaand, how ‘bout you Nathan? How’d the homework go for you?” The sound of my name jarred me awake again. I sat up, trying to recount the minutes that I’d been spacing out. What had he asked me? The homework. I opened my mouth, filled with the sudden spark of a good thing remembered, only to catch myself. I was a jock after all, and jocks have a reputation. We’re not poets or poetry enthusiasts. What could I say?

  

   “It was fine I guess.” I fumbled lamely, unsure how to tell the truth without sounding ridiculous. At my apathetic words I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in Mr. Thorpe’s eyes. I sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of that disappointment pressing down on my shoulders as vividly as if it were a real pillar of stone. I hadn’t meant to disappoint him.

 “Ok. Sam, how about you?” Mr. T went on to the next kid and I writhed in my seat, resolving to explain more as soon as class was over. At the end of the period he asked for our summaries and I waited to go up until last.

 “Thank you very much, thank you Trevor, thank you Austin, thank you Amanda,” Mr. Thorpe enunciated each of their names clearly as my classmates handed in the assignment. They turned and filed out into the crowded halls.

 “Thank you Nathan.” Mr. Thorpe said as I handed him the limp piece of notebook paper with my eyes on the floor.

 “Mr. Thorpe---” I started, when Jesse suddenly appeared at the doorway.

 “Uh, Mr. T, could I steal the Capt’n for a sec?” He leaned in to the classroom with that halfway shrug that told me his mind was down the hall at least four rooms. I heard shouting outside and my heartbeat quickened. Turning hastily back to Mr. T, I explained thickly, “I really did do the assignment, I mean, like you said to,” before running out the door.