A Shade of Blue
Chapter 1: The First Look
I didn't know what it was until it happened?
It was just a look I recieved. A glance. Barely a stare. She glimpsed my way for only a second before I saw the true color behind those lenses. This girl had always worn glasses since the first time I noticed her. They were thick, and black, blocking away such a glorious pure blue. They looked more shallow than a pool of water, a deep shade around the pupil that pierced my eyes with the gentlest of looks.
Her hair waved around her upper body and ended near her lower backside. She would always wear some different colored beanie and dark jeans, but nothing ever made her wide iris blue eyes stand out more than the soft shade of green that her shirt matched.
I couldn't help myself from staring, those big blue eyes captured my attention more than any other pair I'd ever seen. They were soft and held so much depth. The phrase, "And eyes that seemed as if they were peering into my soul", had never been this true. These blue crystals were something worth looking at. Something that deserved a better view to see then this moderately, overly dull classroom, filled with a group of teenagers that could care less about such a lovely girl.
I found myself gazing, and I think she saw from the squint her eyebrows formed when she gave me her eye's attention.
We sat across from eachother in Mrs. Wilder's class, the spunky, crazed teacher who believed that wearing a bun every day and some faded pancho was the latest style. I, myself, wouldn't even give her my gaze if life depended on it. But all in all, I admired her carelessness when it came to fashion, she obviously didn't care much for what people thought.
The desks in her room were arranged in three rows turned inward toward the middle of the class. I was directly across from her if she looked straight forward. And I had to say, the seating chart had been a good idea in Mrs. Wilder's favor. I'd never been more impressed by someone's eyes before hers. All of the sudden, it became hard to look away.
I started thinking of what her name was. She'd transfered to North Shore High School two years ago, with braces and identical glasses to the ones she has now. Her hair has grown out since then and she has lost the braces, but those eyes seem as if they have just been getting brighter within every minute I spend watching. I think the first letter of this mysterious girls name started with an E, but I wasn't quite sure. And instead of focusing on reading chapters of my History book, I was beaming at her.
She tossed a clump of wavy hair behind her left shoulder and slightly turned her head while flipping to the next page of chapter six. If I didn't know much about her, I would say without thought that she was a Smartie, which is what we call the clever and intelligent students of this lame-ass high school. But even she didn't need the satisfaction of a label... she was her own self. And with eyes like those, it wasn't hard to tell.
I shook my hair with my hand, and felt a shiver run through my body as I jumped the desire of wanting to get to know her. But that seemed like a tough slot to enroll in. Her and I weren't exactly destined for eachother. I was one of the bad-guy type at North Shore. The cool gang of teenagers that drank and smoke - I was one of them. To most girls I was a hunk, to others, trash. I hung out with guys that did coke and got high from useless shit. I'd tried some once, but even that load isn't worth a risk. I wasn't into hard-core drugs, so, I guess the look just appealed to me. And that was probably the only thing that stopped us from forming a relationahip in the near future. Because, well... we're two different people. She's a sight for soar eyes, and I'm a punk.
"Mister Ransdell, how's chapter six coming along?" Mrs. Wilder apparently noticed that my eyes were turned away from the textbook, drooling over the girl across from me.
"Very nicely, actually." I say, lowering my head towards her, viewing such a pointy face.
"Oh, is it now?" She smirked.
"Yes," I hissed, tapping the desk with my index finger.
Apparently, I had captured everyone in the class's concentration. All eyes were glued on Scott Ransdell, the boy with no intention of ever succeeding in life. Which was a false report, I had my little dreams like everybody else's... but with each day, they seemed to be getting less and less possible to reach.
"Well..." She trailed off before snapping at me, "Continue!"
Sometimes when this happens with a teacher of mine, they assume that just because of my permanet record and scary profile, that I'm a complete waste of their time. But, to me, I think I've changed this past year. I mean, I've matured. Grown up. I'm practically a new human-being.
"With pleasure," I reply, turning the page, making it look like I have been reading page after page of New-World Cultures.
Before I even make out the first word, I avert my eyes to the beautiful girl that I have the contentment of being in presence of, and see her eyes, looking back at me as well.
With that moment perfect, there's only an amount of things that could ruin it.
In this case, it's the bell, calling us to our next class.