Chapter 8 - Illusion

Jordon Trent heavily reached up and put his arm on James's shoulder. "How's it goin'?" Jordon slurred. He laid a sloppy kiss on his cheek and James grimaced.

James pushed Jordon's arm off of him, and placed his hands in his pockets. James Blair's mouth pulled into a tighter frown. Drunken boy, he thought, he's just harming himself.

Red earbuds hung out of his pocket, as that was James's favorite color.

"You're new here, aintthatright?" Jordon smirked. James nodded, adjusting his seated position. James Blair tapped his foot under the desk while Jordon straddled his sandy-colored chair. "Well, I just wanted to say you're... you're..."

Jordon Trent's head fell to the desk, bringing him to, yet another, period of rest.

James felt uneasy and continued tapping his foot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalia. She walked over, one foot in front of the other, her hips swayed back and forth. A wooden, soft tangerine-colored ruler was placed in her long fingers.

Natalia Ermacora wore a sleek, black tank top that oozed an easygoing personality, and wore dark blue jeans that hugged her lean thighs and backside. With a flick of her wrist, Natalia whacked the top of Jordon's head.

James's eyes attatched to and pursued her petite figure, dissecting her every move.

A snort arose from Jordon's lungs, his eyes unlocked from their closed position. He asked for a reason regarding this event.

"Better now than later," Natalia lowered her voice as she sat across from James.

The classroom lesson droned on, fifty-five ticking minutes of culinary history.

A center of a notecard tapped James's hand.

"I thought this was supposed to be honors physics, not cooking class," the neat writing said. Natalia's writing. "Jordon was drunk earlier, why is he sober so quickly?"

James shrugged. "If we don't get moving, we'll be like the regular physics classes. I am not learning at their level," he scribbled.

The teacher, marked with laugh lines that depicted the autumn of her life, snatched the note from the desk and read it aloud. "Jordon was drunk-" she cut herself off. "Jordon, you're drunk?"

Jordon leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "It was just an illusion, baby. Sometimes all you need is a kiss, soda pop, and a nap to be sober. I knew I was drink the whole time, who didnt? Let that be a lesson to all of you."

Jordon's teacher shot a glare through her cloudy eyes, and stomped away towards thew whiteboard that brings her happiness. Jordon's peers gawked at his level of intelligence. Before, all they saw was a self-imposed, neurotypical boy.

"Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. Natalia, James. James, Natalia," Jordon announced as he flashed a wink towards James Blair. "Get used to it, baby."

James stared at Jordon with storms of questions running through his mind. Weird, James Blair thought. He focused his eyes on colored sheets that were pinned to the wall. James Blair read students' handwriting explaining thermodynamics. The teacher asked them to create questions regarding their previous research on the topic.

For high-school students, grammar was poor. Slang words were prominent, along with less-than spelling. Certain students tried to use complex words to impress, but little did they know that it was inferior for being used incorrectly.

Idiots, James thought.

Jordon spoke to James. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"