Falling in Fall

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Entering class I’m greeted by beautiful lighting.

The light streams through the high windows fitted against the slanted roof that travels from the one side of the room slowly descending down to the other side.

Seated near the back I can see the sun rays travel through the air, the little specks of dust swimming in it like the stars floating in space.

It’s a good thing this class has windows placed so high up against the walls, otherwise I’d spend all my time staring into the distance looking for nothing specific, but hoping for something profound.

Mr. Dickens whom I’d prefer to call ‘Mr. Dick’ (because that’s exactly what he is) enters from the class side door which opens to a small store room stocking all the utensils and goodies needed for a practical lesson.

“Today we’ll be dissecting some lungs” he announces with a sinister potentially psychopathic smile whilst carrying a steel tray with bowls on it, lungs in it I presume.

In comes Malakai, better known just as Kai. My ex-best friend.

Kai is Mr. Mystery. His eyes are blue-blue with white grey speckles that may or may not be the stars of the sky. They’re surrounded by this dark pigment which according to Google is due to an iron deficiency or lack of sleep, I’m betting on the latter and adding hard-core drugs to the list.

His hair is long and curly, messy most of the time – but he makes it work. It isn’t easy to pull off what he does, but somehow he can wear what he wants and wear it as he pleases and it still seems sensible.

His style of dress screams 21st century James Dean. Almost always wearing well-fitting white shirts with leather or denim jackets, and his signature black skinny jeans with a slit at the knee to add some rugged appeal.

He can always be found wearing converse high-tops, it’s as if he was born wearing them.

He has a commanding power to him which is undeniably addictive. It’s like he consumed you, and you want to be consumed. Absolutely worse than any drug.

When he talks it’s like a sunset. It’s vibrant, his language colorful as it spills over the horizon of your mind.

His sentences run into each other creating paragraphs and slowly pages, and next thing you know you’ve heard a book’s worth of information if you don’t stop him.

He’s a pastor preaching a sermon, but in reality he’s probably the snake that’s convincing who ever happens to be Eve that night to enter into his bedroom.

I remember Autumn’s mom once told her to stay away from drugs and boys, and Autumn asked her “what’s the difference?” Kai is the perfect example of that.

I have all my classes with him but only see him in half of them because most of the time he just doesn’t pitch.

The worst is, teachers leave him be. This is not only because he’s a hopeless case, but also because despite his absence in class he gets good grades. Excellent to be honest. Top ten every term.

The bastard.

He’s a bad-boy bad-ass of note.

Because he’s the last person to enter he sits on the only spot left right in the front. From where I am sitting I have a good view of him.

He’s a lanky guy, my build, but he has actual muscle in his arms.

I can see he’s a little nervous. His right hand is scratching at the side of his face going down to his jaw.

He has a jawline that might just cut his finger – square and angular.

His protruding cheekbones are sharp and provide a dominant stand-out feature to his face making every bit of him seem chiseled out of a very light marble.

If this was a vampire book, he’d be the vampire that the pale, plain and uninteresting girl falls for. Snooze fest.

Mr. Dick calls us to the hexagonal island tables that seem to be nonchalantly placed around the one-half of the class by someone who has zero sense of how to equally space things. Someone needs to, like, I don’t know – feng shui the place.

We move like a herd of sheep and group around the table to see how we’re supposed to dissect the lungs and label each part.

This should be an easy task if I end up in a co-operative group. Let’s hope, maybe pray.

I don’t have any preferences for groups in this class, because of the way the subjects are grouped. I don’t have any of the Posy here to suffer with me, so I don’t have much of a choice but to go with the flow.

Mr. Dick looks up and divides us based on absolutely no basis other than “you with you, you, and you” seeing as he doesn’t know many to any of our names even though we’re halfway through the school year.

Fate has its’ way with me and I’m grouped with some of the in-crowd girls and Kai.

I’m not particularly concerned with this other than the fact that things have generally been a bit awkward since Kai, I don’t know, just abruptly cut me out of his life. That was fun.

I’m watching him look at how air-head Emma manhandles the poor lung at our designated table. No matter what he’s paying attention to he seems distracted and in another world.

The stars in his eyes, his mind the galaxy he’s floating around in. Perhaps lost, perhaps found.

Her friend is making gagging noises whilst poking at the lung, and boy does she think she’s absolutely hilarious.

She’s not.

Emma and her friend may be pretty, but they’re mostly pretty dumb.

I near her smiling with my hands out in front of me indicating that she should hand the tortured lung to me.

She drops it in my hand and it lands with a wet thud.

Of course, her and her friend giggle. I’m tempted to name them the “giggle-gaggle group” simply because they seem to giggle at absolutely everything, that and just like baby geese they walk aimlessly in little lines when they don’t have a mother to guide them.

In their gaggle, the mother would be Brittany. Dare call her Britney and she’ll stab you with a plastic fork.

That’s experience talking.

I feel nauseous at the thought of there being grandmothers one day named Brittany and Ashley.

I lay the lung flat on the table for us to get an actual look at it. We start labelling it – Emma offering ‘insight’ as we go through and actually getting one of the five past things she mentioned right – that being that it’s a lung. Nice.

“There’s some symbolism to this organ” I hear from a hoarse voice with an air of smoke to it.


I feel caught off guard.

“Because it not only looks but functions as the tree of our body?” I reply hastily with a steady voice to elude calmness.

“Because the lungs resemble the start and the end. Your first breath, your last.”

There’s a pause.

“I’ve never been surrounded by someone so annoying, he says, eyes still looking off into the distance.

“I don’t know how anyone can stand being around Emma” I comment, not really sure if that’s what I wanted to say.

“I don’t know how she can stand being around herself, he says chuckling.

I don’t reply and neither does he.

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