Next to me, is a very strange boy. His name is, for my purposes, Mappy. Mappy and I have the good fortune of being trapped in a year-long math course together. While I was browsing my own blog, checking comments, he demanded I make a post. I had to write something deep. I had to mention he was here.
And so he is. Dark hair haphazard across his forehead, falling onto the lenses of his glasses, flat blue eyes peering out in an amused fashion. He's got the tendency to fidget, it's really quite irritating, but I can deal with him. He's one of the only friends I find in this cold, unfeeling sea of faces...And he just left.
He's got a kind of lumbering step when he moves, a half shuffle as he makes his way back again. He's pedantic, he's brilliant, and he just stabbed himself with his own pen. Apparently, it hurts. Who would have thought?
There's something else that hurts. The realization that this is the last real class of my Math 10 experience, and more than likely is the fact that it's my last class with Mappy and the rest of the math class troupe, mainly Sailor, Fauntleroy and Stravinsky. (Sailor is a sea cadet, Fauntleroy is a rich brat, and Stravinsky has strong musical talent.)
Mappy says I need seventeen paragraphs. And a picture. And that I need to sketch him. But I don't think I'll do that. I think I'll leave this here, open ended and thoughtful, perusing the future of my high school career.
...I'm listening to Rite of Spring. Stravinsky. Woo.
No comments:
Post a Comment