The Locket

Staring at the door to chemistry, I whispered to myself once more.

Today will be different.

CHAPTER 3

“A soul mate is someone to whom we feel profoundly connected, as though the communicating and communing that take place between us were not the product of intentional efforts, but rather a divine grace.” – Thomas Moore

Inhaling deeply, I opened the door and entered chemistry class, finding myself annoyed with Brent for making me late, as the class was now full and all eyes were on me. The rush of whispers infiltrated my ears and I did my best to hush them. I avoided looking up to the open-mouthed stares of the adolescents around me, quietly taking a seat in the back of the room.

When the whispers finally ceased, I mustered the courage to look up. As I did, a boy leaned over to me with his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Your backpack is leaking,” he announced, causing the class to erupt with laughter.

Looking down, I noticed a small puddle of water under my bag and a trail of water that followed me from the door. The water bottle must have sprung a leak when I dropped it. Fan-freaking-tastic!

My thoughts of, today will be different quickly switched to, today is going to be exactly the same.

Unzipping my pack to assess the damage, I felt like running from the class. This was too hard. Everything was soaked. As I attempted to retrieve my lunch, the brown paper bag disintegrated, sending my lunch falling from the bottom of the sack onto the floor.

“Lovely,” I declared, rolling the sarcasm off my lips.

“Paper towel?” I heard a male voice asking in front of me. I looked up seeing an older man smiling down at me, eyeing me from above his black rimmed spectacles. He was holding a roll of paper towels in front of him.

“Please,” I responded curtly.

“Might help if you put the lid on before you put it in your bag,” he said, making a joke out of my misery.

Now completely mortified, I looked at him and irritation washed over me.

Laughing, he added, “I’m only kidding Ms. Blake. Accidents do happen.”

Mr. Klein, according to what I read on my schedule, was about 50 years old, tall, and looked like one would expect the typical chemistry teacher to look like. He was thin, dressed in modest khakis and a pink, short sleeve, button-down shirt. I tried not to smile when I found myself checking to see if he was wearing a pocket protector. I smirked with humiliation and swiped the towels from his hand.

“You’re welcome,” he said, reminding me my manners had been absent. He addressed the class, ending our conversation. “Now students, if we can ignore a little spill and focus your attention on me, we have a lot to discuss today.”

Listening to him speak, I tried to dry out the inside of my bag. Once I managed to dry off what I could, I discarded the wet towels and returned to my seat.

Retaining anything Mr. Klein was saying proved to be difficult as my mind kept wandering to my eerie morning and awkward meeting with Brent. Why did he seem so familiar? Why was I so attracted to him? I had found other boys attractive before but never with the energy that I felt during my conversation with Brent. While lost in the thought, the bell rang, startling me from my reverie and reminding me my day had only just begun.

Muddling through the next few classes, I tried to stay focused, attempting to think about anything other than the boy with the piercing blue eyes. Brent looked at me like he could see all the way to my soul and I liked it. I really liked it.

The occasional whispers and gaping stares were not quite as bad as this morning’s small flood in chemistry and it was time for lunch.

After a small trek to the cafeteria, I realized I dreaded lunch the most on a first day. It was terrifying having to choose a table, not knowing anyone, and listening to those brave enough to verbalize their thoughts. “I hope she doesn’t sit here.”

My backpack held the contents of my lunch as the paper bag was now a small pile of mush in the chemistry trash can. Spotting a somewhat empty table in back, I took a seat, retrieving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with an apple from my bag, as well as a book I had been reading. I opened the book and began flipping through the pages.

“Hey Blake!” I didn’t even have to look as I recognized from behind, the familiar voice of Brent.

Turning to him, I was instantly aware of the heightened charge in the air between us. The butterflies from earlier returned, and my stomach was performing somersaults. What was it about this boy?

Seeing how truly good looking Brent was, my cheeks flushed. He was muscular and tanned from the long New England summer, and his locks looked more chestnut-colored indoors.

“Is this seat taken?” he questioned, motioning towards the empty seat next to me.

“Sure,” I gushed, waving to the same seat, biting back a smile.

Thank you, God!