Pencils & Polaroids

23: phoenix moment

What's worse than missing a lab class? Missing my assignment book that was distributed in the lab class. 

Three classes later, I'm back in the chemistry laboratory probing through multiple piles of project books that all look the same. Mrs. Kimble finds it consequential to stack all the books of students who submitted their term works but didn't have the decency to show up for the class with books of not just the neighboring sections, but of all the grades in the entire school. 

So here I am, with ten minutes left for the house meet, rummaging through a stockpile of nearly sixty books for a specific one that reads out PARK MELLON. 

After being the victim of this punishment three times, I have learned not to panic and scatter the piles like before but to carefully read through each heap and omit the ones I'm sure I have no use with. By the time I reach the fifth pile, I'm officially complaining to god about all of Mrs. Kimble's flaws. 

She was never my favorite. Not because she always loaded me with work, but despite of me doing it all (with perfection) she didn't accept me as her first favorite student. And being second is as good as the rest. I like biased teachers only when they're partial to me. Mrs. Kimble favored dogs. Huh, poor her. 

I zip my mouth before a curse word floats out when I don't find my name in the fifth pile either. The last stock left stares back at me. Why is it that the things we're looking for always happen to be hidden in the very end? I should've gone with my gut feeling and started with this bundle first. 

I grab the sixth raft and begin again. Three knocks, two barks, and one glance later, I'm avoiding Rainer's presence at the door and straightening my back that's turned to him. 

I'm not surprised why he's here. I basically lured him here with biscuit crumbs. I just wasn't expecting him to meet me before the volunteers meet. He's always fifteen minutes early and seated on the first bench, especially because it is spearheaded by his mother. 

"How was the bleacher date? Do I sense history repeating itself?" His laugh is derisive. "A round two of--what was it--PASHER?" My fingers curl around some poor kid's book. "Or was it SHARK? All your ship names really did suck." His laughter rises a tone before completely falling silent. 

I switch my mental agony to the Himalayan environment and pretend to be internally meditating. "Why do you care?"

In the calmness of my mind, I hear his footsteps nearing me. "Asher's a friend and I want to know if he dodged the bullet or took it." 

So much about that sentence is painfully wrong but I hum Om, the sacred sound of peace inside my head. Words that are triple-dipped in venomous hate are ready to roll down my tongue and start a war with him, but patience is the key, so I wait. 

"He's your friend after all," I am so proud of my composure. "He dodged it pretty well. You know, by sacrificing other people to protect himself. Very Rainer Barcross fashioned." I flip through the last three books and find my name on the last but second stack. Huh, patience is peaceful. 

I arrange the remaining books back in order and deposit mine into my bag. By the time I peep at his shoes, he's standing five feet away. I don't dare look up at his face. More precisely, I cannot bring myself to even look at him for two very diverse reasons. 

"I'd say he's become smart," Rainer says as I intentionally pretend to look for something in my bag. 

"And hot," I scoff a gasp. "Who even cares about intellect when you've got that hero hair and photoshopped body, right?" 

"Aw," I sense a strain in Rainer's voice. "Someone's missing her best friend. It's okay, you can vent to me. I'll keep up." He fakes another snort and I'm officially traveling back from the Himalayas to California heat. "I promise I won't spread any rumors."