Unpopular

The bell rings, and that means it’s the official start of the school day. I sighed and tilted my head back, mumbling, “Kill me now.”

Students rush past me, running down the hall, carelessly bumping into me, and my backpack slides down my arm; I grip the strap and pull it back over my shoulder. I located a seat in the back of my first-period class and sat down while simultaneously setting my backpack on the floor. Then I turned around to get a good look at my neighbors.

The girl to my right has no sense of style; she wears a pink and white striped collared shirt, flare-out blue jeans, no makeup, and fresh pimples on her face. She’s already taking down notes from the whiteboard.

The tanned boy to my left leans back in his seat with his legs outstretched. His smoldering green eyes look at me through long dark lashes, a somber expression on his face. My observant eyes trail along his face, hidden behind his medium-length dark curls and unshaven growing beard. The boy fixates on me for as long as my eyes linger on him, and then I finally turn back to the front of the classroom.

Mr. A, also known as my dad, formally introduces himself. He’s an austere man and can loosen up a little if you ask me.

From the corner of my eyes, I notice the boy’s eyes on me often throughout the class period. Maybe he is trying to prove a point.

Sure, staring isn’t polite, but I can’t help myself; it’s out of pure curiosity.

I stand up from my desk when the bell rings and exchange classes, and the first half of the day drags as I’d expected it would. At lunch, I grabbed the usual curly fries, which aren’t the healthiest option, so I snagged an apple for balance.

I claim a table for myself each year, and no one ever bothers me; students here stick to clicks, so I eat and read a book in peace. I prefer it that way.

Oh, this is getting good. I toss a curly fry into my mouth and flip to the next page in my book, reading on and letting the tale carry me to another world. I felt like Anya in the story, torn between the man I love and predestined to be with another. As I turned the page, I heard the clatter of a tray and looked up from the book that reeled me in more than most I have read.

I see the boy from my first period sitting down; he eases onto the bench and begins eating his pizza. After bookmarking the page I’m on, I set the book on the table, keeping my eyes on him. “What are you doing?”

He finished chewing and took another bite of pizza.

Does this kid speak? I wave my hand in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo, can I help you?”

“Nope,” he spoke without bothering to look at me as he continued chewing.

“Okay, well, if you’ll excuse me,” I shoo him away. “I like to be alone.”

“Me too,” he said but only moved to take another large bite.

“You must be unfamiliar with the word alone because you sitting here occupying my space contradicts your statement.”

The boy finished his pizza and washed it down with his Gatorade.

I sighed and tried the polite approach. “What’s your name?” I asked.

His eyes meet mine for the first time since he’s sat down and inhaled his food, and I don’t receive the reply I’m expecting. The boy presses his fist to his chest and lets out a long, loud burp.

I scrunched my face. “You might want to...” I tossed a napkin across the table to him and lifted my hand, pointing at my mouth. “You’ve got some crust on the side of your mouth.”

He picks up the napkin and wipes his face clean of oil and crust, then flashes a broad smile and drops the napkin on his tray.

As the bell rings, he pushes himself up from the table and casually walks away. I stare dumbfounded after him before I pack my book in my backpack.

I head straight home after school, walk into the house, and my younger sister McKenzie, who’s ten years old, rushes up to me. She has her hand held out.

I thought life was smooth sailing, and here comes this little bug. “What is it, little sister, the bane of my existence?”

“You owe me twenty dollars, and I want it,” she said.

I roll my eyes and dig into my small pouch to pull a bill out. “Here’s ten. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” McKenzie snatches it from my hand, and as I step past the little critter, she speaks again. “On top of the twenty dollars you promised me.” She holds her hand out for more of my money.

“You little bug. I’m not giving you another twenty dollars.”

“Then, I’ll just have to bring Dad up to speed about you sneaking out of the house last Friday night to go to a rave.”

I glare at her. “You little...”

“Pay up, sister dearest.”

“Ugh.” I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it in McKenzie’s hand. “Here. Now, don’t bother me for the rest of the week.”

I walked past her to the kitchen to grab a water bottle, then jogged upstairs to my bedroom. I shut my door, drop my backpack to the floor, and crawl onto my bed with my sketchbook, outlining the perfect outfit until dinner time.

As I sit at the table with McKenzie and my dad, Andrew, my dad speaks. “Have you started on your homework assignment yet?” He asked.

“I’m working on it,” I responded.

“That means no,” McKenzie voiced, and I squinted my eyes at the annoying little bug across the table from me.

“I’ll get to it.”

“I expect you to have it done by the beginning of class tomorrow, McKenna.”

“Can you, for once, try not to be a teacher at home, too? It’s bad enough you’re the teacher at my school. Here, you’re just supposed to be a dad.”

Dad nods and purses his lips. “Sure,” he said while gathering his dish and standing up. “How’s this ...you’re grounded.”

My jaw drops, and I twist my body as my eyes follow him to the sink. “What! For what?”

He presses his palms on the counter and looks at me. “That rave you went to last Friday night,” he said.

My mouth widens. “I didn’t ... how did you-” I breathe deeply and turn to my nuisance of a sister. “Ugh! YOU LITTLE BUG!” I pushed myself up from the table, keeping my hands planted on it while leaning my body forward. “I ought to squish you.”

“DAD!” McKenzie exclaims.

“Tattletale,” I whispered and left the dinner table, yelling, “I HATE IT HERE!” as I went to my bedroom, slamming my door. Then, I threw myself on my bed.

Fabulous. Just fabulous. What a way to start the school year, on lockdown.

I entered my first-period class the following day, still pissed at my dad for grounding me. As he said this morning in the car, after taking away my right to drive, “Actions spring consequences, McKenna.”

Whatever. I drove an old beat-up little car, anyway.

“Alright, class, please pass your homework assignments to the front, and let’s discuss it,” Dad called the class to attention.

I groaned and sank further down in my seat while twirling my pencil between my fingers, not caring to pay attention today. Once again, I’ve got that unnamed boy staring at me the entire time. He doesn’t try to hide it; his eyes remain glued to me. If he’s trying to teach me a lesson, I get it. Don’t stare at strangers.

Lunchtime quickly arrives, and I grab my meal and sit at the same table, pulling out my book. Nearly fifteen minutes into lunch, here comes this boy, sitting down at the table with me. I look around at my surroundings and see at least three free tables he could sit at.

“Seriously, this again?” I asked.

The boy has gotten pizza for the second day, dipping his slice in ranch dressing and taking a bite. I don’t take too well to being ignored, so his being annoys me.

“Fine, I’ll move.” I stuffed my book into my bag and stood from the table with my tray.

The boy looks up at me finally. “Leaving so soon?” He asked.

I let out an aggravated breath. Now this kid wants to talk? “So, you can form words,” I spoke, and his eyes lingered on mine.

He shrugs. “Maybe. Can you sit back down?”

I set my tray back on the table and slowly sat down. The boy dips his pizza into the ranch again. “What is with you?” I asked.

“Meaning?”

“You’re like some quiet stalker guy.”

His lips rise into a crooked smile, and he chuckles. “Stalker? That’s kind of harsh.”

“Can you think of a better term for a creepy guy with a staring problem who follows someone, invading their space?”

“Creepy, stalker...” he shook his head while keeping that annoying little smirk on his face. “Invader? Maybe. But only because it sounds like Darth Vader.”

“No... it doesn’t.” I look at him stupidly by accident. I can never hold my tongue, let alone control my facial expressions.

The boy finishes his pizza, pushes his tray aside, and stares at me.

“There you go again. Do you have a staring problem?” I asked. “You should get that checked out.”

“Only when there is something worth looking at.”

I make a disgusting face. “Is that your way of complimenting me?”

The bell rings, and he doesn’t waste time. He stands up from the table, quickly salutes, then walks to class without responding.

I wait in the parking lot for my dad after school ends, and he picks up McKenzie before we head home. I’ve been giving him the silent treatment, but he pays me no mind. He lets me have my attitude.

Upon entering my room, I pick up my sewing kit and work on my latest design. It’s a relief that I have something to do that makes me happy while I’m on punishment. I set the fabric under the needle on my sewing machine and go to town until I hear a knock on my door.

“What?” I yelled from my sewing table.

My bedroom door opens, and McKenzie stands in the doorway. “Dad said come eat dinner.”

I exhale. “One, Did I say enter? Two, I’m not hungry,” I lied, but I’m stubborn, so... “And three, I thought I told you not to talk to me.” I spun around in my chair and pointed to the door. “Out.”

McKenzie’s face scrunches as she sticks her tongue out at me, and she leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I go back to sewing, and around midnight I became increasingly hungry, so I head downstairs to the kitchen.

I open the fridge to leftovers and heat them in the microwave. As I eat, something nags at me. I can’t understand why that boy is still on my mind, and I still don’t know his name.

It’s driving me crazy.