3 Chapter 3: Johnathan- Like a Ghost

    Today was getting even more peculiar. Jamez just looked over his shoulder and glanced at me. Naturally, I wonder why when every day he keeps his gaze ahead or on whatever he's doodling in his sketchbook or notebook paper. That was one of the more recent strange things that have happened today out of two.

    The other being Samantha sitting next to me in first period chemistry. We all have assigned seats in that class that were for us to be next to our partners, but she kind of forced herself to be my new partner for the final project. I don't know what was the sudden change in the colorful girl, but she sporadically began talking to me. Even during breakfast she waved hello to me passing by. At the end of it all, she asked for my number and that surprised me the most. I'm used to being shunned and ignored by women. Not easily embraced.

    If I had lighter colored skin, I would be bashful and strawberry red. Instead, I was more of a cranberry color when I told her every digit behind my arm. I have never blushed before. Feeling my face get hot was actually a thrill to finally be experienced.

    And on to a current oddity. Mrs. Walters gave us a free day to catch up on assignments. From what I could see from the back of the class, she was working hard. She even pinned her raven-black hair up in a ponytail. Her hands never stopped moving whether they were typing or writing. I was curious as to what she was catching up on. She had already inputted grades yesterday. We had no quizzes or essays we needed to turn in.

    What had her in this frenzy all of a sudden?

    I was caught up on pretty much everything in this class. I had nothing to do but play on my phone. Then Samantha texted me.

    Was she serious?

    Hi, her text read. No emojis, no punctuation.

    Hey.

    Class is boring as ever.

    I don't respond. She sends another text. I wasn't really bothered by double texts as other people claim to be. I'd rather that than a longer text. Really, I like both.

    Samantha sends, I'm coming to yours and maybe we can talk some.

    I just send a lonely question mark then a moment later Samantha bursts through the door. For the first time all period Mrs. Walters' hands are paused. Her sharp blue eyes target Samantha with curiosity, but all she asks is, "Do you have a pass to be in here or are you turning something in?" Samantha waves the small slip of paper and sits it on Mrs. Walters desk. Mrs. Walters glances at it for a moment before just knocking it into the bin. "Don't make too much noise."

    Samantha skips back to my location. Passing her friend Camilla without a word or gesture her direction. She grabs the empty desk beside me and slides it so close that both of our desks touch. She drops in the seat. Camilla is looking over her shoulder at Samantha with squinted eyes behind her pink frames and her shoulders high. She had an expression that said, "What are you doing," and Samantha saw it. She ignored it, though.

    Samantha looks at me with her coffee eyes that brought a small sense of relaxation to me but a whole lot more tension to my shoulders. I didn't know what to do until she just smiled at me with her full lips, flipped her bleached hair with small traces of bright colors in it, and simply waved.

    I placed down my pencil that I did nothing with and verbally communicated, "Hello," awkwardly. This is a first.

    Coyly, cutely, she says it back. "How's your day been going so far?"

    I roll my shoulders and lift the corner of my lips. "Meh. It could be better."

    Samantha gasps and her eyes grow, "I'm not making it better?"

    I was nervous and grabbed my pencil again. I start to rub my thumb up and down its spine. "No," I boldly declare. "You're making it weirder."

    "Oh, I see," she nods in understanding. "This has never happened to you before."

    I chuckle at her correct prediction. "Nope." I admit.

    "Well, I'm definitely making you a prospect for a boyfriend role I have opened up," she just straight up says.

    I was taken aback by her straightforward nature. I have to raise my eyebrows. I lose my grin. If I assume that if I was a prospect there had to be others. I was bound to lose if there were others.

    I don't see myself as an attractive person, and apparently, neither have other people. Until now. It was actually scary.

    Samantha assures me with a firm grab of my wrist, "You're the only prospect, by the way."

    I just nod. No need to make much of a fuss over it. I could possibly live without ever getting married. I can't live as a virgin and die as one, though. That's a big no-no.

    Samantha continues, "Are you free Saturday? There's a party going on at this guy named Sebastian's house, and pretty much everyone is invited."

    I knew I didn't have anything to do, but I look up to the ceiling as if I had a schedule to clear and a plan to cancel. "Sure, I can squeeze it into my busy schedule somewhere," I nonchalantly shrug. "What time is it and what do I have to wear?"

    "If you're a boy, clothes. If you're a girl, a bikini."

    I narrow my eyes at her. "Really?"

    "Of course not. Just wear whatever you're comfortable in. Preferably that leather jacket you have, but wear a black shirt underneath with some bold white decal--try a Thrasher tee--and maybe these black jeans," she pulls at the denim fabric I currently wore, "and some converse of any color. I like your red ones, though."

    So she's been studying me. Creepy. I'm supposed to be the behind-the-scenes stalker.

    I purse and roll my lips. I haven't decided if I'll go. I have an entire week ahead of me still and anything is bound to pop up in my stagnant life.

    "I'll see," is all I can respond with, wearing a straight face. I was glad she invited me, I just wasn't too hyped about my first party experience. It'll be a clash of differences all at once, and I'm not too hyped about my clash with a jock.

    The jock Sebastian in particular. Me and him don't have a good track record. From bullying, to tearing up tests and his attempt to shove my head down a toilet. He really wanted my highschool experience to feel generic and cliche.

    "Cool."

    Samantha stays the whole class and chats me up. She opens up little about her relationship with Camilla, not that I asked. In fact, I didn't ask anything. She just rambled on and on without any dialogue from me. I just nodded along, pretending to catch every complexity she explained. From the divorce of her parents, to every relationship she's been in, to her first love and the first time she noticed me.

    I had to apologize because I gave her a concussion back in fifth grade. We were playing some mash-up of sports--I forget the name--and I collided so hard into Samantha that she banged her head into the wall. She claimed to have kept her eye on me the whole time until finally confessing to it now.

    "You're good," was her response to my apology. She smirks. She chuckles. After I raise a brow, Samantha says, "You haven't changed at all since elementary school. You got a bit taller, other than that and your cheeks not being so fat, you look the same. And you're as soft-spoken as ever."

    "No reason to change," I tilt my head and respond.

    "True. At least not yet." She smiles at me. "You want a piece of gum?" She asks.

    I decline.