The Player Game

Chapter 4

“Hey, what are you doing?” Aaron whispers in my ear, his lips tickling my ear lobe.

Startled, I drop my pen, looking up at him as he pulls away.  He’s looking at my workbook with a confused expression. I follow his line of vision to the open page, full with neat little notes and diagrams.

Of course, he won’t know that I quite often turn into a nerd in class.  I automatically jot down notes when the teacher speaks, even when we’re not supposed to write.  It’s a habit I’ve got, and one that I don’t try to stop, since it does actually help my learning.

 “When we breathe in, the diaphragm contracts…” I hear the teacher say, followed by the squeak of writing on the board.

I return my attention to the board as he draws a quick diagram.  I’ve always been confused by science, which gives me even more reason to make notes.  I pick up my pen, carefully replicating the drawing and answering in an obvious tone, “I’m making notes on the topic.”

A loud snort erupts from beside me.

I turn towards him disbelievingly, my hand still closed around my pen.  He’s trying to cover his laughter with his hand, unsuccessfully I might add.  I can still clearly hear his sniggers and it’s obvious from his shaking body that he’s laughing.

“Are you laughing at me?”  I fix him with a stare, meant to put him at unease.

He snorts again, this time bursting into raucous laughter.  Immediately, silence falls over the room so that the only noise remaining is his slowing sniggers.  Obviously becoming aware of the sudden hush, the sniggers quickly dissolve.  There’s only one reason why a room could go quiet so quickly.

Innocently, I raise my head towards the teacher’s desk.  Three rows of student’s faces stare back in my direction.  At the front of the classroom, Mr Bigg’s malicious stare is focused on the frozen person next to me.  A sense of relief warms through me as I realize that I’m not suspected of disrupting the class with Aaron.  I have standards that my parents like me to live up to.  In other words, in all the years at this school, I have never gotten a detention.  Not one single time.

 “I was not aware that the act of respiration was humorous, Mr. Nichols,” he says sternly, his voice easily carrying across the classroom.

You know you’re in trouble when a teacher uses Mr. or Miss.

I fight the smile trying to overtake my lips as I spot Aaron’s expression.  Just like a rabbit caught in headlights, I think.  His eyes are wide open, staring at the teacher, and his mouth is still half open in laughter.

Jerry, Bradley, and Harry are all smirking behind him and the rest of the class are watching the show with an amused expression.  I guess everyone enjoys watching people getting told off because it’s a break in the bore of a lesson.  I know that that’s what I usually think.  This time, it’s just that extra bit funnier because the person in the spotlight is Aaron, and I know it’s partly my fault that he’s in this position is the first place.

“N-not at all,” he manages to stutter out, straightening out his features and letting his face dead-pan.  “Sir,” he adds, sucking up for effect.

My eyes flitter back to Mr Biggs, who’s gradually moving closer across the room.

“You seemed extremely amused, Mr. Nichols.  Would you care to share the joke with the class?”  Mr. Biggs persists, his eyes narrowing in on the nervous Aaron.

My body starts shaking with silent laughter at the hilarity of the situation.  It serves him right for laughing at my nerdy habits.  Karma is such a lovely gift when it’s slapping people who deserve it.