Part 4 - Notice Her Notice.
The game ends as awkwardly as only a gangle of teenage boys knows how, and we’re soon schlepping out and off to various maths rooms, some at far more speed than is deserved. It took me a term to realise I wasn’t cut out for standard two unit, and have since enjoyed the un-challenge of General Maths, the only maths that still has multiple choice questions in the HSC. What Joy. However, in exchange for these hours of mental ease, they must be shared with Brendan.
He’s already in his seat. The good seat. I’ve got the wobbly one. Again. The kind that means I can’t lean back properly even though we’re at the back of the class. I sit down, and the proffered earphone already has the familiar thump of Devil’s Dance by Metallica, a song (and album) already played to the point of saturation. Although, it does drown out the sound of maths. The offer of music does come with a disclaimer – thou shalt not rock out. My ineptitude in the area has been pointed out on countless occasions. From the lack of Rhythm (thump, thump-mp, thump, fuck, um, thump), to the finger twitching by my side which I seem to think indicates the playing of a guitar, I am well aware of the general annoyance that I cause Brendan.
Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap ta-
Thunk. His desk shifts and collides with mine, indicating displeasure. The astute reader may have noted that thus far not a word was spake betwixt the two of us, and with good reason. There’s nothing to say. Monday mornings are more accurately viewed as mournings, a moment in time where the passing of the weekend is noted by a respectful few hours silence. Well, that and class isn’t often a time for talking. It might not be a test, but we’re going through past paper questions, and it’s better if we just sit up the back and stay quiet while Mr. Elliot helps those who need it – though I swear Katie Pittman’s got a thing for him. That’s the third time she’s asked him about quadratics. I think. I can’t hear too well with Metallica blasting through one ear.
Besides, if I sit back here and say nothing, maybe Anna won’t notice me. Won’t notice how every time I look up, it happens to be towards her seat in the front. If I listen to this music, I can drown out the thoughts about that night at the school camp, and the stupid, stupid letter I wrote afterwards. I can concentrate on annoying Brendan so he doesn’t notice how much I’m actually checking her out. It’s really quite the lost cause, but everyone’s got their own futile battles being fought.
I just want it to end so I can escape, and escape notice. Not that I could have noticed that she had Hillary watching me watching her the whole time. Something which might have saved me a bit of a shock come lunchtime.
He’s already in his seat. The good seat. I’ve got the wobbly one. Again. The kind that means I can’t lean back properly even though we’re at the back of the class. I sit down, and the proffered earphone already has the familiar thump of Devil’s Dance by Metallica, a song (and album) already played to the point of saturation. Although, it does drown out the sound of maths. The offer of music does come with a disclaimer – thou shalt not rock out. My ineptitude in the area has been pointed out on countless occasions. From the lack of Rhythm (thump, thump-mp, thump, fuck, um, thump), to the finger twitching by my side which I seem to think indicates the playing of a guitar, I am well aware of the general annoyance that I cause Brendan.
Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap ta-
Thunk. His desk shifts and collides with mine, indicating displeasure. The astute reader may have noted that thus far not a word was spake betwixt the two of us, and with good reason. There’s nothing to say. Monday mornings are more accurately viewed as mournings, a moment in time where the passing of the weekend is noted by a respectful few hours silence. Well, that and class isn’t often a time for talking. It might not be a test, but we’re going through past paper questions, and it’s better if we just sit up the back and stay quiet while Mr. Elliot helps those who need it – though I swear Katie Pittman’s got a thing for him. That’s the third time she’s asked him about quadratics. I think. I can’t hear too well with Metallica blasting through one ear.
Besides, if I sit back here and say nothing, maybe Anna won’t notice me. Won’t notice how every time I look up, it happens to be towards her seat in the front. If I listen to this music, I can drown out the thoughts about that night at the school camp, and the stupid, stupid letter I wrote afterwards. I can concentrate on annoying Brendan so he doesn’t notice how much I’m actually checking her out. It’s really quite the lost cause, but everyone’s got their own futile battles being fought.
I just want it to end so I can escape, and escape notice. Not that I could have noticed that she had Hillary watching me watching her the whole time. Something which might have saved me a bit of a shock come lunchtime.
posted by Keegan at 9:07 PM
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