Ahh! Gaia journal! How I've missed you so. I'll write as much as I can before school attacks me again. My sincerest apologies for the delay in updates.
I was sitting in French class, first period. My seat is at the front, to the right of the center desks. I used to always sit "front and center," but something in me broke and I can no longer look at my teachers (or anyone, for that matter) in the eye, so... yeah! I moved to the right a bit. I'll talk about my eye contact problem in a future entry, probably.
Anyway, two days ago, I was sitting in French class. I have a habit of going to my first period class extremely early. See, first period starts at 8:45AM. There's a warning bell at 8:40AM to alert students that they should best be on their way to their classes. At 8:20AM, a bell rings to tell students ILO has started. At my high school, ILO is a time slot where students can get personal help from teachers. It stands for Individual Learning Opportunities. It lasts from 8:20AM to when first period starts. Although most students don't utilize this time to its full potential, many of us are required to attend for missed tests and quizzes and papers and all that jazz. At 7:30-7:45AM, musical fine arts hold practices. For band, it's 7:30AM and for choir, it's 7:45AM. Students are supposed to show up within that time slot, regardless of the department (choir or band), but I usually show up minutes before 8:00AM.
I don't know when the school doors open, but on a regular day (that is, every day except Wednesday, when I have choir practice), I arrive at school around 8:15AM, give or take five minutes. After speed-walking to my locker on the far end of the second floor, I head to my first period class. In semester one, I headed down one hallway and one set of stairs before settling down in my front right desk in Math 10H. This semester, I have to walk one and a half-ish hallways and one set of stairs before settling down in my front right desk in FSL (French Second Language, supposedly. It's more of a third, if not fourth language for me) 10H.
So... yeah. Since I haven't written in a while, I felt I should fill you guys in a bit.
There I was, sitting in my front right desk in French on Wednesday morning, February 12, 2014. It was early and the class was approximately half full. I had been sitting in my seat for about fifteen minutes, studying for my Biology unit test when something caught my attention.
"Lucia," I heard. "Lucia!"
It was... so odd, dear readers. Something about this voice, this voice that was calling to me, it was so... comforting. There was an overwhelming since of familiarity but I just couldn't place my finger on it.
And so I turned around. There was... someone sitting four or five seats behind me to my right.
"Lucia, can I borrow a pencil?"
And ow. I experienced painful stab of nostalgic. But the blade was warm and kind and I couldn't bring myself to mind. I forgot to respond verbally, but I did get my pencil case out and began a rushed search.
Thank goodness I put in a spare pencil the previous weekend.
Well, first, I got out my normal pencil, the one I used predominantly. I held it to my ear tilted back and forth (a common act I do to check for lead). No sound, no little click, click. It was my better pencil, in my opinion, and for some bizarre reason, I wanted this to be the pencil I lent out... but it lacked lead. I searched for lead and I couldn't find it.
Must've been a curse for me not to find the lead.
I gave up since I didn't want my "borrower" to grow weary of waiting. I took my other pencil, performed the lead check (positive!), and turned around again.
Those eyes penetrated my soul. Had I not been holding a mechanical pencil, I would've placed my hand over my chest, over the skin under which my physical heart resides.
I said, "Do you want me to just... throw it or something?" I barely managed to keep my composure.
So with a quick flick of my wrist, I flung the pencil.
"Underhand!" I heard my borrower's friend say the moment the pencil left my hand. I, erm, kinda messed up already. Although it wasn't an all-out reaching-back-and-catapulting-the-pencil overhand throw, I did throw an overhand.
The next few seconds happened in slow motion for me.
The pencil flew and spun in the air. My borrower caught it in a clap near his eye level.
Holy crappers, dear readers! I could've injured my borrower, which would've been terrible because my borrower was... um..
I'll keep my borrower's identity a secret for now. If you know me well enough, you could probably guess who this secret person is. If you don't know me well enough to even guess, you probably aren't close enough to me to care. It doesn't matter too much, right? I do hope you're not offended.
I don't like keeping secrets like this from my journal, but some things must be contained.
Anyway, my borrower used my spare mechanical pencil for the remainder of the period which, btw, had yet to begin during the time this incident took place. My borrower gave it back to me at the end of class and I used it the rest of the day because, dear reader, despite owning a better pencil, the borrowed pencil possessed a significance that I couldn't let die.
Thank you ever so much for putting up with my constant babbling today! It'd be nice if you stuck around until at least next entry. As always, have a go at guessing the title and artist of the song where these lyrics come from and a reward shall be granted!
I was running for the door
The next thing I remember
I was running back for more, yeah
Alright, well, I have work to attend. I'll write again soon! Goodnight if the bedtime stars dare to shine, even behind the clouds. Until next time~!
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