Clutter!

The sound gives way. My pencil case, now fallen, as my stationery scatters itself non-uniformly across the floor. I kneel to pick it up. A hand, unexpected, assists me. Its counterpart is in the breast pocket of its master's blazer. It hands my belongings over to me, accompanied by a delicate smile and the word "Here". In the moment we touch. Unexpectedly. Briefly. But almost intentionally so. A chance saturated with richness, given by the universe. My cheap recompense is a slight scowl. An involuntary act, but enough to make it cease contact with me. It grabs its owner's bag and leaves the classroom.

Others follow suit. Focusing only on slugging through their extracurriculars and final classes of the day. I, now alone, shift my stance. Sitting on the cold floor, a hot flush appears on my face. A direct contrast. I cannot help it. That tan brown skin, curly hair, voice stemming from a cocoon of the gods. I could go on endlessly. The integrants of my fantasies. With him. With Andre. However, they cannot go on any longer. I hear skipping towards the classroom. Light, but easily recognizable. It belongs to the class president, Miranda. Her eyes peer at me. With that insistent habit of hers. Like she can see something that others cannot. Although useful, it is annoying. She continues towards me, then crouches down. She rises with a highlighter that I had missed in her hand. She returns it along with a greeting.

"Looks like some of the old you is still in there, huh?"

 

Bewilderment fixes itself on my face.

"What?" I reply.

"This clumsy act is something you would've done last year."

I pause before I shrug. "Probably."

I agree. Dismissively so. But she is correct. I have made some changes since last year. I've become more outgoing. I joined the netball team, became vice president, and joined the student body council. Goals I had set for myself. All fulfilled except one. It left a sense of longing. Not the desperate kind. More like missing the last few minutes of a movie. A longing that taunts and prods.

I sigh. These thoughts weigh on my diaphragm as I riffle through sheets of paper. Sorting upcoming assignments. Miranda does the same. Only quicker. Her thoughts, probably uninhabited by a crush. The better part of an hour is spent on this. Uninteresting. Mostly in silence. Until she decides that she does not want it so.

"So, do you have a partner for the dance?" Her words manoeuvre the space between us. They make their way to my heart. Compelling a sudden response.

"N– No. The pers–"

I halt my words. They are impatient. Like horses eagerly awaiting to be released from their stables. She notices this and chooses to ignore it. Regardless, she remains on the topic. Her form of derision.

"I'm surprised Andre hasn't asked anyone yet."

I try not to sound too curious. "How'd you know that?"

"I overheard him as he was headed to soccer practice. He said something about the person he was going to ask, ‘looking like she was angry' at him".

She pauses. Deliberate. Inquisitiveness is aroused in me. I think back to when class ended. My heart lauds that possibility. My mind struggles to comprehend it. Could he have been referring to me? It's a possibility. One that I regard. Carefully.

"Also, he happened to drop this while he was speaking."

She holds on to an envelope. Crudely opened. Not by Andre, I assume. Inside, I see that it holds some ornament. There's an urge to look deep within. There's also another to return the package to its owner. I obey the latter. I do. Or rather, I want to. I am undecided. I have liked Andre for a while now. Even when I was a little less outgoing. On my list of goals, I had written that I wanted to confess to him. With the best outcome, he would be mine. With the worst, I would have enough conviction to finally let go of these feelings. Freely release them.

Miranda's eyes meet mine. I recognise that gaze of hers. Seeing into the beyond. She smiles at me. An encouraging smile. It tells me to give this my all.

I commit to my decision. Risking failure. And pain. But rejecting hesitation. I commit to telling my feelings. Like putting a line on paper with ink.

I snatch the envelope out of Miranda's hands and run with it. As quickly as my legs can carry me. Gracefully. Perhaps not. I don't concern myself with that at the moment. Nor with what to say once I get to Andre. Only that I do.

Passages and students pass by as blitz. Just as suddenly, my feet touch grass. Operating with urgency towards the soccer field. A mere dot, paired with a white training bib. I see him. My legs get the confidence to give this their all. Now larger, he looks back at me. His teammates, too. My pace slows as I approach. I attempt to fix myself. Fix my now dishevelled hair. Straighten my uniform. Slow my breathing.

"You dropped this." The words manage to make their way out. But they're softer than I would like them to be. Carried out by the breath-deficient air of my lungs.

"Thanks". He doesn't reach for the envelope. Instead, he offers a little smile. He offers it with a little sadness, too.

A moment of tension. Enough to make everyone else look away and continue with their own matters. We step away to accommodate them. This minute moment of silence prolongs to an eternity. My palms feel sweaty. A lump forms in my esophagus. I swallow it. At its end, I find the courage to speak.

"So... have you asked anyone yet? To the dance?"

"No". His tone is cool. Although I detect that it tries to conceal something. "I was thinking of asking someone, but she doesn't seem interested–

"I am." The words blurt out of my mouth. Pressured by bottled feelings. Once emptied, shyness takes their place. A feeling familiar to my former self.

"I mean, if I were the person that you were talking about."

The last words are spoken in a vacuum. Their sound, going out. Courtesy would have me repeat them. I cannot. Not even to look him in the eye. Any such thoughts are prevented by my pounding heartbeat. A soft touch on my chin. It tilts my head upwards. Slowly. Gently. With an embrace that carries over to his face. Slightly embarrassed. Slightly excited.

"Well, then. If you'd like. Would you please be my date to dance?

I smile. The envelope crumbles in my hands. I try to conceal my excitement.

"Yes."