Some Boy Called Drew

It was a hot afternoon, and ridiculous too. Mr. Stevans was intent on leading us through the basics of computers before suggesting activities.

“Now here’s something to get you acquainted for the next eight club-times,” he half-yelled at the class. “Partner up!”

I sighed. That was exactly what I had been hoping not to hear.

Nevertheless, I searched around for someone. Everybody was finding partners too quickly for me: naturally, those more accustomed to working with computers (and who dressed in woollen sweaters with circular glasses pinching their noses) paired up together; those forced to go to this group found each other and grumbled together; and even the Mother Mary’s girls either found themselves another giggling spectator, or managed a less-geeky-looking boy. Quickly, I was running out of choice.

As I began to think that I’d have to pair up with Mr. Stevans (who wasn’t really that bad), I felt a tap upon my shoulder, and turned to see a boy with medium length brown hair and glowing chesnut eyes standing before me.

It was the boy from the Indian, and I was still surprised at how similar to Cayden he looked. Maybe it was just my imagination…

“Do you have a partner?” he asked, although I was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“No,” I whispered, my breath caught in my throat.

He shrugged and gestured to the computer nearest to us, left unoccupied by me.

“I’m Drew,” he said, “Drew Alonso.”

So he isn’t related to Cayden at all? The likeness is strange though…

“By the way, were you at the Lincoln Road Chopsticks-”

“- Thursday evening? Yeah! I thought I recognised you.”

Drew grinned at me and I chuckled in return.

“Annabelle Smith. I like computers, but I hope I’m no geek. I guess this was the best choice for me. I try and stay away from the other activities, you see, especially sports.”

“So, you don’t like hockey?” Drew asked. It was a sudden, strange question.

My brow wrinkled along with my nose, as though he’d suggested something disgusting.


Luckily, it was at that moment that Mr. Stevans chose to explain what on earth we were going to be doing for the hour (and, subsequently, extra time during the week).

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, your task for today is to create a powerpoint about your partner. Handy, really! One person shall supply the information, the other will use their Microsoft Powerpoint skills to create something visual that also provides us with a detailed bit of information about the someones in this room. And then I’d like you to swap over. Now boys, nothing rude…yes, Michael, I am looking at you.”

When Mr. Stevans finally was quiet, the room erupted into noise enough to drown out my frantic thoughts.

Drew turned to me, disgruntled.

“Okay, you first. So, Mother Mary’s is a girls’ school?”

Private girls’ school,” I said, with more arrogance than I had intended.

He typed it down on Powerpoint exactly as I had said it. I wanted to grab the mouse away and erase my rash tone of voice, but I could only be so sudden with people I knew. People who wouldn’t judge me for such actions…

Drew was just a stranger. I’d probably never see him again once the two months were up for the year.

“Chop, chop, guys and girls,” Mr. Stevans said as he wandered past. “Get your start on…?”

“Annabelle,” I replied, before gesturing moodily to the seat opposite. “This is Drew.”

“Awesome! Annabelle, Drew, get Powerpointing already!”

I was not looking forward to doing anything this term.

The End

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