Chapter 1 (post one)

Pre-note

I can't post very often, as there is no Wi-Fi for my laptop (where my story is saved). I tried to set up a network and everything, but nothing works for me as I am technologically challenged. So I'm resorting to stealing the cable from the family computer, which is a pain. 

If you are reading these, please comment! Feedback would be great! I can take criticism, just be gentle! Thanks :) 

Chapter 1

October 28th was the date on the chalkboard. My planner read the same, but I kept thinking it was the 27th. Kenagy, my math teacher, was going on about some quadratics formula, and despite his dramatic change in voice and facial expressions, I couldn’t concentrate on why the graph of y= 7/x+2 had an asymptote at x= -2. Perhaps it was because of the weather – that day was one of the first cold days of fall. The hush of the cool breeze had a tranquilizing affect on people as they walked through the city. I watched them from the 2nd floor as they wandered almost aimlessly in their just-out-of-the-closet black and navy wool coats.

“.. AANNN—”

I jumped a little at the sound of the beginning of my name, but Kenagy finished his sentence, “—NNDD I have your tests marked!” He pulled them quickly out of his bag, the way he’d pulled me from my thoughts.

He went around the room, dropping tests on desks and talking with a huge smile that never faded, although he was announcing that the class average had dropped to 67% because of this test.

“Annika,” he said when he reached me, “good job.”

The page held a bold “81%” in red pen. My lowest test mark this year, but probably better than those whose averages had dropped to 67%.

That day felt as though it was covered with a gray blanket. Although my thoughts were wondering about my math average and what it was sitting at now, I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy about getting a decent mark or upset that my average had probably dropped. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion as the class picked their books up and trickled out the door. Elizabeth fell into step beside me on the way out.

“Hey, how’d you do on the test?”

“Ok,” I said. This is a safe answer, not giving away whether or not I’d gotten a good mark.

“You probably did well; you’re good at math. I got 63. 63! My parents are not going to be happy about my average next report card; I’m sure it’s close to the class average now.”

We reached our hallway and split off to our lockers on either side.

“Beth?” I asked, stuffing my math text in with the rest. “Are our rough sketches due this art class?”

“Yeah.” She joined me; flipping open her black sketchbook to show me numbered drawings of figures in different positions. “One through five.”

“Damn.” I mumbled, pulling out mine, “I only have four.”

“Ms D. will forgive you; she loves you.” Beth held my book as I clicked my lock shut. She flipped through the sketch book aimlessly, and then her eye caught something. “What’s this? It’s really good.”

She held it open to rough sketch of a young girl in an 1800s ball-gown. I grabbed my stuff back a little too roughly. “Nothing.”

“I was just going to say that might count as a figure drawing. You may have five done.”

I smiled, to show it was no big deal, and said, “Yeah, maybe. Did you hear about the trip to Chicago being cancelled?”

“Yeah,” Beth said with annoyance, “I was so excited and now we can’t go because of what? Some stupid booking thing?”

We fell back into synchronization, feet falling at the same moment, as we walked to class. We were back to normal again; Elizabeth was Beth and I was the Annika she knew. The one who was average and didn’t stand out, just the way I wanted her to be.