Sun
"Good morning everyone", the teacher greeted as she walked in with her hair neatly done and her signature, red lipstick perfectly staining her lips. I could see a hint of redness on her front teeth, maybe from all the smiling she's done. She looks elegant with her navy blue skirt reaching down covering her knees. She wears a plain white, long sleeve, buttoned-up shirt, with a fixed blue tie imprinted on it.
"Good morning Mrs. Perez", everyone responded. It is my first day of high school my fourth and last year here. I am sitting alone on a double desk with my legs crossed. My black bag sits beside me on the spare chair awaiting someone's impending presence. I am wearing my uniform with my black boots. My shirt is well-ironed with edges as sharp as a knife. My hair is well moisturised given that I spent hours conditioning it in preparation for today. I have my fresh haircut which was done the previous night in the hopes of looking fresh and clean. The class was oddly quiet and filled with compliance. The walls are painted a light green and I could see the yellow paint from the previous year still on the walls. The double-sided tape is still stuck on the wall, embracing its existence. I am smelling a hint of washing product coming from the floor Sensing that someone might have spent some time cleaning the floors only to have them get dirty in minutes. I peer out the window to see the students hurrying to their respective classes when this one figure caught my attention. They look tall and slender with broad shoulders and sharp edges, clearly it is a guy. I discard that information and continue to search for other entertainment in my surrounding area. I turn to face my bag and as I lower my head down in search of a pencil, a shadow is being cast over me. I look up to have my eyes meet with the entrancing ones of a stranger. They are like magnets, drawing my attention to him.
"Is there someone sitting next to you? Could I sit there?" He questions. He has a mature voice creating questions in my mind such as if he is even around my age. He looks neat and orderly. He is tall, probably around 5 '8 and was what is considered "white" which is having a pale skin tone. He wears a bright smile which complements his honey-coloured eyes and light brown fluffy hair. His soft, brown hair dances in gentle waves, creating a charming aura around his head. Each strand feels like a delicate caress, and the layers add depth and dimension to his face. The softness invites touch to his effortless charm. They bounce and blend, these elements create a visually appealing, carefree, and youthful appearance. He has an even moustache which created controversy in my mind. Everything completely set the look for him. What a good-looking guy; I'm jealous.
"No, there's no one sitting there", I responded with the most stupid, softest and cringiest voice I could ever do. I look away wishing the ground would just swallow me whole whilst I pull my bag and settle it down next to me. He took off his bag and sat down, his cologne exuded a blend of citrus and spicy cedarwood. It left a lingering hint of masculinity and elegance. He took his book and wrote down his heading.
Okay, Paulo is his name,
got it
The teacher suddenly cal
ls out to him “Paulo, could you please come to the front and say some general stuff about you?”. He got up, walked, and stood In Front of the class. There is something different about this guy, he gives off some type of aura, a feeling that is unparalleled by the rest. He is standing confidently upfront and informs the class of who he is. Not an idea of nervousness in sight. My god, those eyes, why are they so hypnotising? It's a surreal feeling that invades me at every chance I get to gaze into those captivating eyes. I could see his lips in motion but not a single word reaching my ears. Suddenly, he appeared next to me again, it was like a spell that I was placed under. I stare into him, burying my deep gaze into him, clearly causing him a reaction. He felt it, turned around, and initiated a chat. I'd say he did so to kill the damning awkwardness surrounding us like the air we breathe.
"So what's your name?"
"I'm Elio" I answer with a light smile And yours?"
"I'm Paulo, I'm a transfer from San Pedro"
"Oh really? I'm from Caye Caulker, I suppose you've been there right?"
"I've been there once or twice I-"
"Everyone head to the auditorium", the teacher cut in. I think we'll be having those boring assemblies where the principal welcomes everyone with the warmest of welcomes and hugs, accompanied by the most hypocritical face EVER.
"Elio, I'm sticking with you okay, I don't know anything"
"Paulo, so you mean to tell me you've never been to an assembly before?"
I question with a chuckle.
"I mean yes I have but this is different-"
I cut in, "I'm just messing around, of course, you can tag along ".
We saunter together heading towards the auditorium whilst revelling in the most detailed rundown of our lives. I learnt that he is 15, just 2 years younger than me, yet he appears to be the older one with his mature facial features. He told me of his mother who has always been there for him since the death of his father. He noted that his father Was a silent anchor in the storms of his life. His father wasn't very emotionally expressive but it was a love expressed in sacrifices made, lessons taught and a quiet pride that glowed whenever Paulo gained achievements. He died of cancer when Paulo was just 8 years of age and he has since missed his father every day of his life. In the absence of his father, his mother stepped in trying to fulfil both parental roles. Even though she tried her best, his mother could never succeed in reproducing the masculine energy his father emitted. She did everything her ageing hands could hold and partly filled that void of emptiness that echoed with the absence of guidance, the loss of his comforting presence, and the silence where his paternal wisdom once resided.
