His Thorns (History of Us)

7.

"Me?"

Micah looked at the finger Joy held half an inch from his face before trailing his eyes up to meet hers. Once she had realized what she was doing, the people around her staring, wandering why she was harassing the new boy being the biggest indicator, Joy shot her finger down and stared at the ground. In situations like this, she thought running away might be the best option but she did not know what she would do if he caught her. She didn't need him to think she was weird on the first day. Instead, she turned back around and continued shuffling through her locker, hoping he would forget the interaction.

Joy got her history textbook and turned to leave only to find an arm blocking her way to escape. She couldn't bring herself to look at him but she could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head. She turned, trying to run in the other direction only for him to block her path with is other arm. Finally, Joy faced her captor, realizing his face was now only inches away from hers. "I asked you a question," 

"Um, could you take a step back, didn't they teach you manners at your old school," Joy crossed her arms to put space between them. His smile didn't falter but he gracefully took a step back, holding his hands up in defeat. She took this as her chance to walk away in a hurry. Behind her she could hear him calling out to her, "Last time I checked, shouting and pointing aren't signs of the best manners," 

If it had been any other situation she might have given him a piece of her mind but she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Even as she turned the corner, Joy could feel his cocky gaze piercing into her back. She did her best to avoid any more interactions with him. 

The classes before assembly passed slowly. After the first week, days always seem to move slowly, especially when they are boring. The more Joy found herself staring at the clock, the slower time passed. She desperately tried to ignore time passing, hoping it would go back quicker but she couldn't resist the need to glance every once in a while. If time passed slowly in class, it didn't move in assembly. It was like hands on the clock were for decoration. The gymnasium was hot and teachers would drag it on as long as possible, almost always eating into recess. 

It was all she could do not to fall asleep. The monotone readings and lackluster speeches seemed endless. If she had to deal with this more than once a week, Joy was sure she would have gone mad. Joy tapped Tabitha, who was falling asleep beside her. They whispered under their breathe about how boring the assembly was. Tabitha made a joke about how the Spanish teacher marching up and down the aisles, likening him to a specific fascist ruler. She imitated him, holding her finger under her nose like a mustache and puffing out her chest. 

Joy snorted trying to hold in her laughter. All eyes turned in her direction, searching for the source of the sound. She sank into her chair, keeping a straight face to avoid suspicion. Soon enough people lost interest, and Joy breathed out a sigh of relief. Tabitha had found her predicament extremely hilarious and was doing her best to hold in her own laughter. Joy crossed her arms and turned away from her friend, pouting. 

Soon enough assembly came to an end. Joy stood up to leave, her back aching from the white plastic chairs. As everyone went to leave, Mrs. Basi ran to the stage, grabbing the mic. "Just a little note before we leave for recess, make sure to turn in your application to run for president by Tuesday, we will be having our first meeting by Thursday," 

Joy felt her heart skip in her chest. She had been so busy she forgot how soon the election would happen. She was confident but something itched her brain at the back of her mind, asking her if she really had what it took. Pushing the thoughts away, she left the gymnasium. She decided to spend it in class. It was way too hot outside and her skin was sensitive. She scrolled on Pinterest and listened to music, a combination for peace and tranquility. 

Soon enough her peace and tranquility was shattered by the boys bounding into the class sweaty and loud. They somehow had yet to discover the use of their inside voices. No matter how loud she made her music, they were louder. Surprisingly, Micah was at the center of their discussion. He was the loudest, something she never expected of a new kid. Joy watched in amazement as he conversed with the other guys as if they had known each other for a while. However, when they began taking off their sweat-drenched shirts to change, she took this as a sign to leave. She picked up her bag and American History textbook.

"Are you scared of a little skin," They jeered. Joy rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn around or meet their gazes. 

By the time she got there, the class was empty. Even Mrs. Fisher had yet to arrive. Joy picked the seat directly under the AC. She had no plans to sweat, she didn't care what the weather had to say about it. Whilst she waited, Joy found herself picking at the plastic covering that had begun to come loose. The textbooks were old, so her harmless picking could barely be considered destruction of property. 

Not much time passed before the boys she left in her homeroom came bounding into their American History class. Though they were wearing different clothes, new beads of sweat were piercing through their clean shirts. Joy could never comprehend how sweaty they could get. It was terrifying. Lost in thought, she didn't realize they had walked up to her. 

"Hey do you mind if we take these seats, we need to be under the air conditioning," 

She so desperately wanted to ignore their pleas but when some of them began to reach for her arm to beg, Joy gave in with lightning speed. The last thing she wanted to do was come into contact with their sweaty bodies. She weaved around their large frames and found a different seat. They laughed amongst themselves, knowing their tactics had worked. Joy rolled her eyes and stared at the wall until the rest of the class filled in. 

Mrs. Fisher was the last person to enter the class, she was carrying a stack of papers and seemed to be out of breathe. She apologized for her lack of punctuality as she made her way to her desk. She dumped her papers on the desk, connected her computer to the projector and started teaching. Before she made it past the title slide,  Mrs. Fisher realized she had a new student in her class. She asked Micah to introduce himself. 

As she was about to return back to teaching, Sylvia shot her hand up. Mrs. Fisher nodded towards her, asking her to speak.

"Micah needs to be put in a group, we'll take him, I'm sure my group members wouldn't mind,"  Sylvia's eyes glistened in a way that made Mrs. Fisher tilt her head and squint at the girl. Somehow, Mrs. Fisher felt as though agreeing would be a trap. Suddenly she clicked her fingers, realizing a simple solution. " There's a group of 4 instead of 5, right, he can join whoever is in that group," 

The class let out a chorus of, "Yes, miss,"

During this whole ordeal, Joy had been laughing with Tabitha and Kristi. It was so obvious why Sylvia wanted Micah in her group. They soon became silent, focusing on Mrs. Fisher going through her slides. Joy watched from across the room as Jeremy told Micah that they would be in the same group, whatever Jeremy said after that made Micah smile. Joy felt bad for whoever had to deal with both of those guys in one group. 

She went back to looking at the board. Her face in one hand and her pen spinning in the other. Joy had spent a month or so figuring out how to do a pen trick; it would make writing notes a little more fun. It had been a while since she last dropped her pen whilst twirling it around her finger. However, as her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, Joy couldn't help the pen escaping her grasp. 

Jeremy was in her group. Micah was in Jeremy's group. 

Joy didn't know how she hadn't picked up on these details before. It was definitely too late to do anything about it. Class had moved on smoothly and she had no reason to reject him from her group. 

So much for avoiding him.

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