"For you? I'd hold the skies on my shoulders, if it came down to it."
*****
He didn't think she'd ever look his way. Let alone, stumble into him- and into his life. But all things happen for a reason, and sometimes- when you love someone from afar...
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I WAS LOST again.
Unfortunately, it wasn't in a distant land of my imagination or the trees like I would have preferred.
It was in a classroom. More specifically, my AP Calculus classroom.
It was the first day of my senior year, and some teachers decided that they were going to dive right into the syllabus. That included the AP Calculus teacher, the Prick-Extraordinaire- Mr. Prichett.
Looking at the board, and at all the signs and numbers- I was slowly starting to regret stepping foot into this classroom. Because I was so lost on what to do.
I bit my lip, looking down at the textbook on my desk. A jumble of letters, numbers, and symbols stared back.
What was worse, was that Mr. Pritchett's beady eyes were surveying the class, looking for his next victim to question.
Fortunately, as the class waits with bated breath- I can feel his eyes move right past me, making me breathe out a sigh of relief.
Thank goodness.
I didn't think I'd be able to handle answering a question with the rest of them just staring at me, because I had been blessed with the bravery of a chicken nugget. No joke.
When he finally calls on his victim, it makes all of us sit up a tad bit straighter.
"You there," he says in his rough, gravelly voice, "Why don't you tell the class what you find so interesting about the branch outside that you chose not to pay attention in class?"
Twenty-three heads, mine included, snap towards the person in question- as silence falls across the classroom.
My eyes widen slightly when I realize who Mr. Pritchett had called on.
Unsurprisingly, he doesn't look all that bothered. If anything, everyone else in the class was probably more bothered for him than he was.
His eyes turn towards the teacher up front, narrowing slightly- almost in defiance.
"I am paying attention," he says slowly- his voice considerably deeper than it had been before the summer, as he crosses his arms across his chest.
His tone, however, is just as cold and detached as it always seems to have been- and the expression on his face, unwaveringly blank.
Mr. Pritchett looked less than happy with those words, considering the way his face twists into a scowl.
"Are you now?" he questions sardonically, "Very well, I'm sure you wouldn't mind answering some questions then, would you, Mr. -?"
There's another pause as he trails off and all our eyes flicker back to him.
No one prompts or answers for him as he leans back into his chair, legs stretching out- beneath his desk.
"Jackson," he murmurs finally, a muscle in his jaw clenching, "Atlas Jackson."
