Pretty Little Face

A pretty new face enters Enrique's classroom.

As the clock beats slowly, painstakingly slow, such as the hearts of the comatose, the voices around me become slurred. The brightness of the florescent light blurs the classroom, as my peers start to develop into blotches and unfocused figures.                   

In the blink of an eye, the figures are brought back into clear focus and the voices in the room ring clearer than a bell."Enrique! If you're having problems listening, then I suggest that you go to the nurse!" I answer the voice with a quick "Yeah, yeah" Opening my eyes fully, I begin to realize that the voice was my instructor. Flustered and hot, I straighten my posture, hoping that no one fully pays me mind and I am right. No one really cares for my routines anymore. In the beginning of the year, I received a few chuckles, some smiles, and laughs, but towards break, people tend to get sick of me.

Our instructor points to the door, and begins to lecture something. Her words are foreign to me and I don't really care to listen. I am caught in my thoughts. Too preocupied to worry about whatever pointless anecdote she wants to share about her life this time. It's how I am. I need to think.

Suddenly, this creature of beauty and mystery enters the classroom. She moves gracefully and as she walks, her long flowing skirt bobs from left to right like a light gentle jellyfish. She glances at the class, but not with a thoughtful glance as one would to analyze the class, but with an empty glance as though she was looking through a window.

"This is Cherry. She is a new student from Ohio. Is it true that you lived in Vietnam before, Cherry?" My instructor asks. Cherry turns her gaze to my instructor, and her empty gaze becomes an intense stare as if she were studying herself in the mirror and she nods eagerly. She smiles and looks to find her seat.

Seeing that she is pretty, immediately, the boys with vacant seats beside them look at her eagerly. However, looking past them, she sits in front of me. As the lesson goes on, she begins to play with her pencil, not bothering to pay attention or take notes. She's definitely not a serious student... I thought to myself. Curious and intriqued with her movements, I gently tap her on the shoulder and whisper "Hey, are you really from Vietnam?" She turns around and stares intently at me. Then bobs her head vigarously. She's obvously oblivious to the word "discretion" I thought.  I continue "I'm Enrique, so-" My irate instructor interrupts. "Enrique, keep your thoughts to yourself and be quiet!" I slump in my chair and put my feet on the desk. Cherry studies my movements, and slightly copies me. She does this all during class until the bell rings and frees us all. Before I can leave the classroom, Cherry stands in front of me, smiling and giggling stupidly.

The End

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