Apathetic Moron,
That's what I thought of you. Slinking down the hall, with your baggy jeans, your shaggy hair, and your expressionless face. That was before I knew you.
You'd been in my school since third grade. I'd had classes with you. I didn't even know your name, but I was pretty sure it began with an "L." That was it. That was all I knew about you. After all these years. All I knew, was an initial. But that year, I had one class with you. One little class, that made all the difference.
-N
Pathetic Bubble-Head,
That's what I thought of you. Walking in the middle of the hall, with your cheerleader outfit, your fake tan, your perpetual smile. That was before I knew you.
I knew your name. Of course I knew your name, Cheerleader Captain Natalia Flynn. Nat for short. Everyone knew your name. And everyone knew your boyfriend was Lance Winward, quarterback and school hero. Jerk.
Most people would say that you were too good for me. You were popular, pretty. I was... not. But I thought I was too good for you.
"At least I had a brain," I would say to myself. But then you were put into my science class. And then you were put right next to me.
We got our first assignment right away. As I looked around for the pencil sharpener, I saw you.
You were so focused, so concentrated on your work. You tucked a stray strand of caramel colored hair behind your ear. Your deep green eyes so piercing, like you were trying to laser the answer into the paper. I wondered what it would be like to have that gaze on me. I shuddered.
-L
Apathetic Braniac,
A week of school had gone by. I still hadn't spoken to you. I probably never would have. But we both joined the debate team. And we were the only ones who didn't have a partner. So we were now partners.
I begged my friends to join. But none of them wanted to. I was surprised you showed up the first day. And the second. And then I decided that you'd chicken out once we started having to do some real work. Or I'd have to pick up slack for you all year.
But you didn't. Whenever I glanced up from my computer at you, you were staring at your computer, writing something down every once in awhile.
"I'll check your's and you'll check mine?" I asked. The first time I ever spoke to you.
"Okay," you said, "I'm Lewis, by the way." I nodded and pretended I knew that.
"I'm Natalia. Natalia Flynn. But you can call me Nat," I said. You nodded. We switched notes and parted.
-N
Pathetic Scholar,
I read over your notes, and they were pretty decent. Your handwriting was neat, and efficient, nothing like my messy scrawl. Your opinions were powerful, and accurate. It was quick, and consise, and just beautiful. Beautiful.
The next day, I was about to hand you back your notes before school started, but you were talking to your boyfriend, whom I avoided. I handed them back to you in science class instead.
"Thanks," you said, handing me back mine. You might be smart, I thought, but you were still pathetic. You were only going out with that jerk because he was popular. Even I could tell that, though no one else could. I shrugged and took my seat.
It continued this way for awhile. We became pretty good debate buddies. We were winning contests left and right. Bringing home the big trophies. It was fun. It could've stayed that way. We could've just been friends. Things didn't have to change. We could've lived seperate lives and moved away, maybe to different sides of the country, when we grew older. And we never would've known what we could've had. But things did change.
-L
Strong Brainiac,
I saw you sitting alone at lunch. You were doing homework between bites. I felt like I should sit by you. We were becoming "debate buddies." But my friends would have freaked if I sat by you instead of them. And my boyfriend would've gotten all mad. He was very controlling that way. I had my reputation to worry about. I began to turn to head towards my table, on the other side of the cafeteria. Then stopped. Because Lance, my boyfriend was heading towards your table. What was he doing? He was more paranoid about his reputation than me. He was the reason I was so paranoid about my reputation.
I watched him, head closer to your table, some of his teammates/pack members following behind him. He reached your table and swiped your plate on the ground, spilling milk on your pants. His goons laughed, and he began yelling in your face. People at nearby tables had turned their heads to watch the entertainment.
"Hey!" I yelled, rushing over, "Lance!" He turned to look at me. Now, it seemed everyone was watching us. Too late to back out now. I would've if I could have.
"What?" he asked, "Go sit at your table over there. This is guy stuff." I rolled my eyes.
"I hate it when you say that," I said.
"And I hate it when you say that," he retorted, "Now leave this alone. It has nothing to do with you."
"Really? And what, may I ask, does it have to do with you?"
"He ratted me out when I was cheating off his math test," he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Lance. Please. For me," I said. He hesitated.
"Now," I said. He glared at me, then turned to you.
"I'll take care of the trash later. I'm gonna leave you 'cause I'm a gentleman." You stared down at where your tray used to be. No eye contact.
He stocked away with his pack at his heels. I sat down next to you, navigating around the spillage. I handed you my napkin for the milk on your pants.
"Thanks," you say. I glance at you. You glance at me. There! For a flash, I see the pain in your eyes. Then you look away. You're back to your normal, stoic self. Maybe you're not as uncaring as I thought. Maybe you're just stronger than most people.
-N
Pathetic Scholar,
I feel humiliated as you defend me. But I'm relieved that Lance leaves. You hand me a napkin and I say thanks. I turn to steal a glance, and find you staring at me. I can feel those beautiful, piercing eyes, tearing away my sheild. I look away.
I read and you eat in silence. You offer me a carrot, and I accept it with a crunch.
After lunch, I pick my tray off the ground and you take your tray too.
"I'll talk to him," you say.
"I'm kinda hoping he'll forget about it," I said. You nod.
After school, you saw me walking home.
"Where you headed?" you asked.
"Just a little farther, then to the left," I said.
"Me too," you said, "Want a ride?"
"Sure," I said, hopping into the passenger seat of your old, beatup Chevy.
We lived pretty close to eachother, just a couple blocks away.
-L
Strong Brainiac,
I didn't break up with him. I should've, but I didn't. I probably never would have. But then, a few weeks later, the unthinkable happened. Lance broke up with me.
He picked me up for our date. He drove a few blocks. He stopped the car. Then he just said, with absolutely no embarassment or remorse, that he'd been cheating on me for the last few months with my best friend and was breaking up with me so he could continue dating her.
And I punched him. I'm not the punching type, you know that, but I just punched him. Square in the nose. He started bleeding.
"Why'd you do that?" he demanded. I spit at him. I slammed the car door and began to walk towards home.
I rounded one corner and realized I wasn't going to be able to make it home by myself. The feeling of strength that had come from punching him had already worn off, and I was beginning to dissolve into a puddle. I saw the lights on at your house, and knocked on the door. I really hoped you were home and it wasn't just your parents there.
-N
Beautiful Scholar.
I was surprised that anyone was knocking on my door that day. It was seven o'clock, and all the cool people were already out partying. Then I saw that it was you and you were crying and kind of freaked.
"Umm...ummm..." was all I could manage.
"Can I c-come in?" you asked.
"Sure, umm... do you want anything?"
"A g-glass of water?" you asked. You plopped down on the couch. I gave you the glass of water, and you gulped it down, the chill of the water mixing with the warmness of your tears. I noticed a red stain on your hand.
"What happened to your hand? Did he hurt you?" I said, standing up. I was going to kill him if he'd hurt you.
"N-no. I p-punched him," you said.
"Really?" I asked. You nodded. I began to laugh. I couldn't help it. You began to laugh too.
"I don't know what came over me," you said.
"If I could've seen his face," I said. I sat down next to you, tearing up with laughter.
Once we were done laughing, I found myself staring into your eyes again. They were still piercing, even through the tears. I felt them break down a wall that had been hiding something from me.
I loved you. Almost without my control, my hand reached up to wipe away the tears from your cheek. Your hand held it there. We began to lean in. And then we met...
-L
My Strong Brainiac,
Do you remember our first kiss? That night so long ago? Tasting of salt from tears, and of laughter? It was such a beautiful thing, my Lewis. And it just blossomed from there.
We went to the same college, different majors. And once we were out of college, we were married. Do you remember our wedding? Everything so white and elegant. And a few years later? Do you remember what we found out then? That I was pregnant! And what we found out three months later? Twins! A beautiful boy and girl. Look! There they are now, with their own families, and their own little babies. Don't you remember, Lewis? Don't you?
-N
Dear Beautiful Scholar,
You want me to write these memories down so I won't forget. Sometimes I remember. And sometimes I don't. It breaks your heart when I forget, I know. It's not my fault, I'm a very old man now. But I never forget your eyes. Not even for a second. Even when I forget you, I remember those eyes. Piercing into my soul. How could anyone forget those eyes?
-L
I loved it very much. it's simple & mesmerizing!
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