The Star - Chapter I: In The Beginning

The beginning chapter gives the reader insight into the protagonist's social problems, insecurities, and obsession with astronomy.

***Keep in mind this chapter is not yet complete. I may add more to Maria's history, and other events***

Chapter I: In The Beginning

 

 

         My life story wouldn’t exactly be what you would call “normal”. I’ll get into it soon, but first I’ll tell you a little bit about myself, and my family. My name is Alex Pathways; I was born in Covina, Los Angeles, to Maria Pathways. My mother, Maria Pathways was a math teacher at the local Dawkins High School. Dawkins High School was built 30 years ago, and was named after the famous scientist who discovered the Greedy Gene. My mother was extremely good at mathematics, so I know where I didn’t get my math skills, or lack of math skills from. As for my father, I’ve never met him, and my mother has never told me anything about him except for what a great guy she thought he was, and that he deserted us. It doesn’t bother me much anymore, but when I was young, I remember having to make up stories about his whereabouts whenever my friends would ask me about him.

 

         Since I’m on the subject already, I’ll tell you more about my mother. She was born Maria Fernandez in Guadalajara Mexico in 1973. As a young girl she was adventurous. She loved to roam around even though she didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. Many times she got lost wandering the town. Her parents obviously would worry themselves sick, but eventually, and inevitably she always found her way back. She certainly was spunky, my grandparents would always say when they visited and told me these stories.

In her teen years, she developed an interest in math. She was very good at it and always received good grades in her math classes. Eventually she graduated high school, and her parents had saved up enough money for her to go to America. She was against it, and did not want to leave them but they insisted, and she obeyed. Their only wish was for their daughter to go to college, and become successful. She came to America with a renewed sense of hope. Even though my mother could only speak acceptable English, she was accepted to Maxwell University in North Carolina, where she earned her teaching degree.

 

         While at Maxwell University, she also found a job as a waitress at a fancy Sizzler’s restaurant. That is where she met Darnell Johnson. He was a tall man, 6’7 and African-American. He approached her one night as she was leaving work, introduced himself and seemed very charming, so they immediately hit it off. After dating for a few months, they moved in together. Her friends thought they were moving too fast, but my mother, as naïve as she always was, saw nothing out of the ordinary. They lived together in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment and she paid the bills, with occasional help from Darnell. Having to deal with schooling and paying the bills, my mother began to feel the stress breaking her down. Darnell was no help, but one day my mother felt sick, and she threw up. She hadn’t the faintest idea what was wrong at the time, but she began to suspect, and the possibility of her suspicion becoming a reality scared her. She was already having trouble juggling school and work, how would bringing a new life into the world help the situation? She visited her gynecologist to rule out other possibilities and confirm her suspicions. As she suspected, it was a pregnancy, and she was already carrying it for 2 months. She was devastated, but felt the occasional radiant feeling of knowing she would soon become a mother.

 

         From her doctor’s office, she called Darnell to let him know the news. He sounded elated, and happy. But she could only think of how this would impact her life and her schooling. She certainly did not want to drop out, but at least she had Darnell there for what little support he could give, she thought. She drove home, and when she arrived and opened the door to apartment number 3, she saw no sign of Darnell. All his stuff was gone, clothing, materialistic things, all gone… He had deserted her. Left to face the burden of carrying a child for seven long months, giving birth to it and raising it alone, she broke down. She fell to her knees, lay on the floor and cried. Tears hit the carpet for hours until she fell asleep. Seven months later on January 4^th, 1992, I was born.

 

         Arrangements were made so that she wouldn’t have to quit either school, or her job. During school and work, a friend of hers, Marcy Cunningham took care of me at her place. She was more than willing to help, she had known my mother for years and they were good friends. Marcy was always home, her husband, Charles Cunningham was a successful business owner. He owned and managed a distribution company and earned quite a bit of profit. Eventually, my mother graduated from Maxwell University, moved to a nice home in southern California, and with her teaching degree was able to attain a job as a math teacher. By the time she began working I was already of school age, so she dropped me off at the K4Kids Kindergarten, while she went and taught. Now that I’m older, I can’t help but think that the 3 Ks in K4Kids Kindergarten was somehow intentional, as a reminder of the hooded “grand wizards” of the KKK. But maybe that’s just my skeptical mind; I tend to overanalyze things quite a bit. I still vaguely remember some of what I’ve told you about my mother, but the rest I picked up from stories my grandparents would tell me.

 

         As a young boy I was extremely shy. I shamelessly cried all day on my first day of kindergarten. I remember one incident in particular during my elementary school days. My uncle had taken me to an amusement park where he worked, and provided me with an all year pass. He left me to roam around while he tended to other customers. Now, most kids would die of excitement at the prospect of having the entire amusement park to themselves. But not me, I was cooped up too comfortably in my shell and wasn’t ready to break out if it yet. I took a seat in front of the stage where The Blues Brothers were scheduled to perform later in the day. Witnessing people of all ethnicities walk by, having a good time, socializing, but no one acknowledged me. We had arrived there at around 7:45 in the morning. I sat in that seat from the time of arrival, until we left in the evening. Too shy is what I was, too shy to do the simplest of things.

 

         Years passed, and eventually I was at Darwin Middle School. I was still a little shy, but was able to talk to people, and make a couple of friends. Around that time, I developed an interest in staying out late at night to stare at the stars. I didn’t know that all of those stars in the dark sky were other suns. I always thought they were the kind of stars that teachers gave stickers of when you passed a test, or did a good job on an assignment. Neither did I know that stars could come in a variety colors from Yellow, like our star, Red Dwarfs and even the gigantic Blue stars that quickly burn their fuel, and have shorter life spans. The complexity of the universe didn’t dawn on me till I was older, at this age I was merely mystified by the stars.

 

         Three years passed, and I enrolled at Dawkins High School, the high school where my mother taught math. Before long, I was placed into Special Ed classes for “emotionally disturbed” children. I wasn’t dumb, but I was still pretty shy, and very quiet. I was actually kind of glad that they placed me in Special Ed classes, because I didn’t have to have my mother, a regular Ed teacher, as a teacher. I was also glad, because now I finally had the opportunity to say I was the smartest person in my class, without it being a lie. Two years later I was a junior at Dawkins High School, and still I hadn’t built up the courage to ask a girl out on a date. There I was, 17 years old with uncombed hair, 70’s sideburns, and a rarely shaved mustache that earned me constant comparisons to Eddie Murphy. I was only 2 years away from graduating high school, and still hadn’t had my first kiss. Boy, was I miserable. I was depressed most of the time, but I wouldn’t let it show. Not at school, and especially not around my mother, cause I wouldn’t want her to worry.

 

          This was a day like any other; nothing out of the ordinary in my 3^rd period art class. The teacher was Mrs. Byrd, a middle aged, chubby blonde woman. Today she was wearing blue jeans and a pink shirt, she wasn’t the best looking female but she was an extraordinary artist. She passed out pictures of animals such as crabs, spiders, beetles etc and instructed us to draw them to the best of our abilities. Drawing never really was my thing though. I only chose art as an elective because the only other options that were still available were shop class, and P.E. I hated physical education, and I wasn’t good with my hands, so shop class was out of the question. Adding to that, I was a horrible artist. I stared at the picture of the spider I was handed, and wondered where to start. To a more experienced artist, this picture might have been child’s play. But to me it was like trying to draw the Mona Lisa. The fellow beside me had already nearly finished his drawing. He was given a picture of a crab, and drew it perfectly; he got almost every last detail down. He was Matthew Foster, known as one of the best artists at school. I put my head down discouraged. After about 10 minutes with my head on the desk, motionless, I heard a loud smack on the table. I raised my head to see what had happened, and there was Mrs. Byrd, with a yellow slip in hand ordering me to go to detention. This was the 2^nd time that she had sent me to detention for not doing any work. I didn’t complain… I kind of liked it actually. In detention, I never had to do anything but stay quiet so it kind of worked in my favor.

 

         As I made my way to the detention room 207, I had to piss. I’d been holding it since around 1^st period. I would’ve gone either during classes or in between classes, but both circumstances would’ve required me to socialize or be around other people. If I had tried to go during class, I would’ve had to have gotten up, walked towards the front of the class and feel like everyone was staring at me, and then I’d have to ask the teacher. If I had gone in between classes, I would’ve had to walk through the crowds of other students making their way to class. Needless to say, I probably would have a panic attack. That’s another thing… I get panic attacks. Boy, you should’ve seen me the first time I had a panic attack. I laugh about it now, but back then I thought I was going to die. Panic attacks are not the easiest things to go through, especially when your abdomen and chest tighten up, and you begin to have trouble breathing. I would tell you about it, but I don’t feel like reliving that experience, it might trigger another one. Anyway, I was on my way to the bathroom, and I see this Hispanic girl on her way back from what I assume was the front office. I had never seen her before. She was beautiful, about my height with long black hair, full lips and perky tits. She had on a sweater, and tight jeans that really complimented her figure. The bathroom area and front office weren’t too far from each other, so she was walking in my direction. I had rehearsed in my head, and continuously told myself to say “hi” to every other girl I see. So far I was failing miserably, but I wanted this time to be different. As she got closer, she looked at me and gave a faint smile. The kind of smile you give somebody when you’re just trying to be nice. She walked, and she walked on by. I said nothing, and needless to say I felt like crap. So I kept walking towards the bathroom, and tried to forget the experience.

 

         After taking care of nature’s call, I went to the detention room. I went in and gave the yellow slip that described my “offense” to the security lady at the front desk. She was sort of annoying, always yelling at kids for the smallest things. She looked like she was in her late 60s, and here she was yelling at people for socializing with friends in between classes. She wasn’t very well liked, but I didn’t mind because she never hassled me. I gave her my school I.D and she had me sit on seat number 5. It was early in the day so not many kids were in, but sure enough, later in the day the detention room would be packed. Oh yeah, I had to stay for the whole day. Dawkins High School had like a 3 strike rule. On your first offense, whatever it was, you’d be sent to the detention room for the duration of that period. On your 2^nd offense, you would have to stay for the whole day, and on your 3^rd offense, a meeting would be scheduled with your parents. Any after that and you would be automatically suspended for 3 days, unless you get into a fight, which would earn you a five-day suspension. Once again, I lay my head down and went to sleep… I woke up about 2 hours later, and all of a sudden the room was packed. I had missed the snack break and it was 12:05, so it was around halfway through 5^th period.

 

“So you’re finally up Mr. Pathaways?” I looked up towards the front, and there she was, wearing a red dress and black high heels. Ms. Pathaways, my mother, she did not look the least bit delighted to see me. Looking towards me, with both hands on her waist, she said, “Get up, right now… We’re going to talk”. I would have much rather preferred to be a Jew in Germany during the 1940s I thought to myself. I got up reluctantly, and walked towards her, hearing giggles, and whispers of “wussy”, and “loser” from other kids on the way. She glared at me. My eyes were set on the floor below me, unable to make contact with hers. “Let’s go,” she said in a commanding voice. She put her arm around my shoulder and accompanied me out. Nothing was said as she led me to her classroom. She was on break that period, so nobody was in her class. My mother walked to her desk, and pulled up a chair for me.

 

“C’mon, sit down… we’re going to talk” I sat down, and the talk began.

“Mrs. Byrd emailed me about you; she says you’re going to fail if you don’t get your act together. Now what’s wrong? I know you can pass that class without a hitch, now why are you not doing your work?”

 

With my head towards the classroom floor, I said, “I don’t know” in a defeatist tone.

 

“Ugh, Alex… you need to start applying yourself, and stop saying you don’t know” she picked up a folder off her desk, showed it to me and said “I looked at your file, and you’re failing every class except English. At this rate you’re not even going to graduate, and believe me Alex, you are going to graduate” She emphasized, “Are” and looked at me with concern. She sat back on her chair, sighed and asked, “So, what are you going to do?” My eyes did not leave the floor, and I didn’t reply.

 

         She put her hands on her lap and said “Listen Alex, I know you’re having a hard time with other kids, but you’re going to have a way harder time if you don’t graduate. You’re a smart kid, stop letting these other kids get to you. You’re my baby and I love you okay, and I’m not going to see you get held back. There’s a two-week break in three weeks. When that time comes, we’re going to be working on your math, cause that’s what you’re having the most trouble with right?” I nodded my head in agreement. “Okay Alex, I want you to tell me something, is there anybody giving you a hard time?” “No mom” I replied.   She continued, “If there is let me know right now” “No! Mom… nobody is bugging me,” I said. “Well…. okay… do me a favor sweetie” She pointed to a stack of papers a couple of desks behind me and said “Go get me those papers please, on that desk over there.” I obediently got up and retrieved them for her. She looked at the papers and said to me, “She’s a new student… She’s pretty smart, especially at math, and she lives near us. Maybe I should have her come over someday and help you with your math”. She said as she smiled at me. “You’d like her, she’s very sweet” “Yeah, I guess” I replied. Though the thought of it scared me. I just wanted to get out, go back to the detention room and sleep. “Yeah, I’m going to invite her over some time. You need to socialize and break out of your shell sweetie. That’s the only way you’ll ever succeed. Believe me Alex you’re very lucky. You know where I came from. I grew up poor, I worked my a*s off to get where I’m at, and you know that. You’re very lucky to have what you have, but at the same time I’m not going to give you any handouts, you have to earn everything you get.” I nodded my head… “Uh huh”

 

         “I remember when you were a baby; I couldn’t wait to finally get done with school to be with you. I hardly ever got to see you back then, but a lot of times now its like you’re trying to distance yourself from everything. From me, your schoolwork, and I don’t know why”. Her voice began to crack, and tears began to flow from her eyes as she said “Baby I love you, and I just want you to know that okay” she said as she wiped both her eyes. I didn’t know what to say, and I hated myself that moment. I never wanted to hurt my mother. “I’m sorry” is all I managed to say. I would’ve loved to go in depth with her and tell her everything I felt, but I guess I thought she wouldn’t understand. She leaned over and gave me a hug, and I returned it. I could feel her cheek brush up against mine, and she kissed me. I know I never really showed it at the time, but I loved her… so much… I still do. I would’ve done anything for her. My only regret today is not letting her know that. She’s worked her whole life and been through so much. My a*****e dad deserting her was bad enough, and here I was, her only son, making her cry. It made me feel like crap. Suddenly the bell rang, and it was time for my lunch, and her next class to start. She hadn’t let go though; she gave me another kiss, this time on the forehead. “This is B lunch right? Your lunch, so go eat something, and when you get to your next class, go in with a different mindset. Just pay attention and try your best okay sweetie,” She said as she stroked my cheek. “I love you Alex”, I looked away, and turned around and walked out of class without saying “I love you” back. I felt so bad. She’d done so much for me, and I didn’t even have the courtesy to say “I love you” back. Expressing my feelings was always hard for me, and I think she knew that… So maybe my lack of expression didn’t hurt her as much as I thought it did at the time.

 

         I took the school bus home that day. My mother usually took me, but every Thursday she had to stay behind a few hours for a faculty meeting. While on the bus I usually listened to music, read a book, or stared blankly out at the serene environment. Watching cars pass by, people, stray dogs. Occasionally I might even catch a glimpse of dog or cat that was unfortunate enough to get hit by car, and killed. It was a very loud bus, the students I mean. I remember that day very vividly, particularly that moment. I got on the bus, and took the free seat directly behind the bus driver. As everybody made their way into the bus, I looked in the opposite direction, towards the outside to avoid eye contact with them. Nobody ever really sat with me, and I thought that day would’ve been no different than the others. Until I felt my seat move, someone had sat right next to me. I could feel their arm brush up against mine. I had no idea who it was, I was too timid to turn and look. However, he or she smelled very good. I was too afraid to look, but luckily for me, the bus driver had a mirror above her, which she used to watch over the kids in the back. I looked up slowly into the mirror to try to catch a glimpse of the owner of such a pleasant aroma. I raised my head a little higher, and for a second I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Still wearing the same sweater and jeans, she was the girl I had seen earlier on my way to the bathroom after being kicked out of art class.

 

         A war erupted in my brain. The part of me wanting to break out of my shell was furiously battling the side of me that wasn’t ready yet. This was the perfect opportunity; she was right next to me I thought. But somehow, the side of me wanting to break out was on the losing side of this war. It had been the dominant one of the two my entire life. My palms began to sweat, I was becoming anxious, and suddenly I felt a lump in my throat. I really hated that lump, because it signified the beginning of something else. Something I didn’t want to go through, especially not at that moment. I had to calm myself down somehow. I knew nothing was wrong with me, but I just couldn’t shake it. I became more and more anxious. Then, as I feared… my abdomen tightened up. If I didn’t get this under control, it would spread to my chest, and then disaster would ensue. My hands were tingling, and getting number by the second. I clenched my upper and lower teeth, and tried breathing through my nose and mouth at the same time slowly. It was a technique I picked up at the hospital. But the technique seemed to be worthless when in the presence of a beautiful female. I continuously reminded myself that there was absolutely nothing wrong, and having these fears was irrational because there was nothing physically wrong with me. It was all in my head. All of that is easier said than done, and usually I managed to calm myself down. But these circumstances were different.

 

Suddenly my chest began to tighten up. I knew what was going to come next if I didn’t calm down, and I shuddered to think of it. But the more I thought of it the worse it became. The more I thought of it the more control I gave the fear. My hands were now as hard as rocks, so numb that it was slightly painful when I tried to move them. It was bad, but I still had the chance of averting disaster. It wasn’t as if I was having trouble breathing, and unable to talk. But as soon as that thought entered my mind, the speed of my breathing began to increase.

 

“Are you okay?” said the girl beside me. Oh God, this was a nightmare come true. I had never envisioned this. I always thought I had pretty good control over my anxiety attacks, so this was a definite blow to my ego. I tried to say “yes” but now I was even unable to talk. So I just nodded my head back and forth to signify that I was indeed fine.

 

Some thought I was joking. “Oh my God, bus driver… I think there’s something wrong with him” said the girl beside me. “This is not freaking happening”, I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe it. Of all the places to have an anxiety attack, it just had to be there. In a bus packed full of students, while I was sitting next to one of the prettiest females I had ever seen. “Whoa man, what’s wrong with that dude?” I heard a kid a couple of seats back say. Some were laughing, others clearly expressing concern. The bus driver had known me for years, she was very nice but I don’t think she knew I was prone to anxiety attacks. This was the first time, and hopefully the last time I would have one in the bus. She was concerned. “Alex, what’s wrong? You can’t breathe?” The bus driver said as she looked at me through the mirror above her. I was still breathing heavily, unable to catch my breath. “Oh my God” the bus driver said. We were at a light, and when it turned green she made a right turn, and pulled over near a dirt road.

 

         I was feeling somewhat nauseous as the girl next to me and the bus driver helped me out of the bus. I didn’t throw up though; nausea is just another symptom an anxiety sufferer may experience. I sat on the ground and the girl sat by me.

 

“Are you going to be okay Alex?” The bus driver said… I nodded my head, and said “yes”. I was finally able to talk, but my hands were still stiff, so much so that I wasn’t even able to make a fist. “Its just an anxiety attack, it’ll go away” I said. “You sure?” The bus driver replied. I nodded my head again. I was beginning to calm down, thankfully. “So do you want me to call your mom to come pick you up, or you think you can go on the bus?” The bus driver asked… I waited a sec, and then said, “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine, I’ll go on the bus”… I stood up… as I walked back towards the bus I felt a slight burning sensation in my right hand. I thought nothing of it, and I wanted to attribute it simply to the numbness in my hand. But this burning sensation was becoming more and more frequent. I had felt it as a child growing up, but very rarely, maybe once or twice a year. Over the past few years however, the number of times this sensation decided to let me know it was there increased to about 5 – 8 times a year. It was starting to worry me, but I ignored it and tried to forget about it.

        

The girl was right behind me as I walked back up into the bus. I sat back down; embarrassed, wishing this whole experience had never happened. I was drained. 

 

“So umm, Hi… my name’s Asia,” she suddenly said looking at me. Great, I had just gone through this horrific experience, and here she was about to make me go through it again. But I tried my best.

 “Umm, hey… My name’s Alex” is all I uttered, I didn’t know what else to say.

“So, umm….” She said as she laughed. “You had an anxiety attack huh? My dad used to get those to, they’re hell.”… I just nodded my head yes.

 

A brief pause ensued.

 

“Don’t you know how to talk…?” She said to me as she laughed…

“He’s very shy,” the bus driver told her… “I can see that” Asia said. Needless to say, I was pretty embarrassed.

 

         “I’m going to make him talk” Asia said, and the bus driver laughed as she said, “awe leave him alone… Oh I was meaning to ask you, your name is Asia right? Where’s your bus stop? Tell me so I could write it down”. “I’m going to get off at Murphy Ln” Asia said. Oh my God, that’s my bus stop… I was going to have to get off with her. I was scared, yet excited at the same time. “Oh… you’re getting off at Alex’s stop,” the bus driver said. Now that I think about it, I can’t help but think that the bus driver did that intentionally. How could she not know Asia’s bus stop? She was supposed to have a stop sheet with her. Oh well, there was nothing I would’ve been able to do about it anyway.

 

         There were 3 bus stops left before we arrived at my stop. All three were on the same road, but pretty far apart. First we stopped at Lakewood Ln. A fat kid got off there; he always sat at the back. Pretty quiet like me, he was a good kid. He got picked on a lot though, a lot of times for his weight and cause he was always wearing the same shoes. He’d been wearing those same shoes for 2 years. They were all dirty, and stained but I guess his parents couldn’t afford to buy him new ones, or maybe he just didn’t care. I never liked people who make fun of others for things such as having dirty shoes and trivial things like that. It was very immature. Plus I don’t think they would’ve gone to a 3^rd world country, let’s say like South Africa, and made fun of all the people who had no shoes. That’s another thing people take for granted, they have shoes, while other people can’t even afford them. And here were these jerks, making fun of someone simply because his shoes were dirty, at least he had shoes. He probably should’ve bought new ones though, or at least washed those out. So he got off at his stop, and we were off to the next one.

 

         The next person to get off was Amanda… Well what can I say about her. She was only the loudest girl in the bus. I remember one time she was applying make up in the bus, and she dropped her lipstick and it rolled all the way to the front. All of a sudden she started laughing about it, uncontrollably. I have no idea why, but it was sort of contagious. The more she laughed for seemingly no reason, the more other people also started laughing at her. She sure was a weird one.

 

 

Finally the third stop, right before we got off at mine… The driver stopped, but nobody got up, so I guessed he just didn’t go to school that day. So we were off to my stop. I contemplated what to say, because I did want to talk to Asia. But I wanted to wait until we got outside and were alone. I had no problem with the bus driver, she was very nice but I guess I just felt uncomfortable trying to talk to Asia around her. I felt I could do better if we were alone.

 

         My bus stop was approaching…. She pulled over by my stop, always right in front of a set of mailboxes and I made my way out. “Bye Alex” the bus driver said, and I said it back as I was getting off. Asia followed behind me and said bye to the bus driver. As the bus went off to drop off the last few kids, we were walking together; this was my chance I thought. If I didn’t do it now, I would never end up talking to her. I’ve already ruined so many chances like this, and I was determined not to let this opportunity go to waste as well. She was just walking by my side, not saying anything. I wrecked my brain thinking of what to say, and how not to look stupid at the same time. Although that was probably already too late, everybody on the bus got home later than usual because my of little anxiety episode. She didn’t seem angry though. Right then, I just decided to say something “So, are you new to the neighborhood?”

 

“So now you want to talk huh?” We shared a little laugh when she said that. Walking with her hands comfortably in her pockets she said, “Umm, yeah, I’m new here, I just moved here with my mom and my little brother.” “How long have you been out here?” she asked me. “I’ve been here for about 5 years now, I live with my mom and our dog” I answered. “Really, what kind of dog?” she asked. “It’s a German Shepard, we named him Roman.” I said. “Oh… that’s nice”…. An awkward silence then ensued. Great, now what was I supposed to do? I didn’t know what else to say. We just kept on walking. It was a nice afternoon actually, real nice. There was a nice breeze, and pretty sunny. But I was a nervous wreck, had I been anymore nervous I probably would have had another anxiety attack.

 

Sensing that this was going nowhere really fast, I thought of a random question. “So… where did you used to live Asia?” I asked

 

“Oh, I used to live in Modesto California, it’s kind of far from here. My mom moved us out here cause there was too much “violence” over there. There were a lot of gangs and all that good stuff. So she was finally able to get a good job that pays a lot and she was able to move us out here, to this nice neighborhood. I think it’s boring. I’d rather live back over there in Modesto. I had all my friends over there and I don’t even know anybody out here” She said

 

“Oh… well… you’ll probably get used to it here” I said. Then she replied, “Yeah I guess… but I’ve only been here a few weeks and I still don’t know no one, well except you… but you’re boring. I can’t even kick it with you or you might have a panic attack” She laughed out loud.

 

I had absolutely nothing to say to that. “Awe… I’m just playing, don’t take it serious” She said playfully.

 

“So what classes do you take?” I asked… She replied, “Umm, I’m pretty sure I have the same as you, just the ones everybody has to take. Science, Math, English, History and two electives that I hate”

 

“What’s your favorite subject?” she asked me. “Umm… I don’t know”… I thought about it and said, “English, I guess since I like to write a lot and it’s the only class I’m not failing,” I said.

 

“Cool, cool… my favorite subject is math. I’ve always been good at it. Ever since I was a little girl,” She said.

 

“My mom is a math teacher there at Dawkins. She’s been working there since I was a kid.” I told her. She replied “Oh yeah? That’s cool… my math teacher is Ms. Pathaways. She’s very nice.”

 

         Oh wow, if I hadn’t already had a bad enough day, I came to find my mother was teaching the girl of my dreams. Then that is when my mind went back to earlier that day, in my mother’s classroom after she took me out of detention. That paper I picked up and gave to my mom… it was Asia’s… “That’s her actually” I said, referring to my mother as her teacher. “Oh my God… for real?” She asked, and I nodded my head yes. “Oh my God, you have got to be joking,” She said while laughing.

 

         We continued the conversation for about ten minutes, not really talking of anything significant. We were just getting to know each other, and finally I arrived in front of the small two-story house. The beautiful lawn kept neat by yours truly at the request of my mother. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Asia?” I said, and then she replied as she waved “Yeah, see you tomorrow… bye”. “Where do you live, want me to walk you home”? I said nervously. I saw her smile when I said that, and then she said pointing towards her house, “I think I can walk next door Alex, but thanks” She turned and walked towards the house next door… Hmm, my mother said she lived near by, I didn’t think it’d be that near though. She lived next door. It was odd I thought. I would’ve seen her when she was moving her stuff in. The big UHAUL truck wouldn’t exactly have been easy to miss. So I just assumed I was at school when she moved in.        

    

        “Bye” I said again. I didn’t get to walk her home, but the view as she walked away was quite nice.

         Believe it or not, that was my first real conversation with a girl that didn’t completely fall apart and make me look like a complete joke. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement to have finally gotten that out of my system. As soon as I got off the bus and Asia and I went our separate ways, I felt as though I should’ve been able to do it all along. This may seem foolish to you, but to me it was the greatest feeling in the world. I feel as though people take the simple things for granted. At the time, you have no idea what I would’ve given just to be able to tell my mother I love her, and to have real friends.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism is encouraged.