The bell rang and the students that were still in the hallway broke toward their classrooms. Martha checked a clock on the wall as she passed. 7:44. Must be a warning bell. She wasn't anywhere near her class after making a wrong turn finding her locker.

It was amazing how quickly her confidence had fallen once James had left. Walking the crowded halls, she couldn't help feeling like an imposter. Every time she made eye contact with a passing student, she saw their accusation. "Who the hell does this green skinned, bug eyed freak think she is?"

She turned the corner as the second bell rang then entered the first room on the left to find posters of Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, and William Shakespeare on its walls. Twenty some students were readying themselves – some more than others – for the start of their English Literature class. For an agonizing moment, Martha stood by the door exposed and without a place.

The teacher – a thickset woman in her mid 40's – sat at her desk at the front of the class marking an attendance form. She noticed Martha and asked, "Are you Martha Beckett?"

Martha nodded.

"Welcome. My name is Mrs. Hernandez. You can take the open desk in the back of the third row."

Martha made her way to her desk. She kept her head down but felt forty some eyes trained on her as she paraded up the aisle. She vowed to be early to the rest of her classes to avoid the full spectacle.

Mrs. Hernandez walked to a cabinet, retrieved a book and gave it to the boy at the front of Martha's row. He instinctively passed it to the boy behind him who continued the chain until it reached her. Mrs. Hernandez said, "Martha, we just started 'Lord of the Flies' two weeks ago. Have you read it?"

"No."

"Well, do your best to catch up," Mrs. Hernandez said with a condoling smile.

She seemed kind. Martha felt bad lying to a woman offering her kindness. That the people who deserved her honesty the most were the easiest to fool was dispiriting. Martha had, in fact, read the book the year before and written two essays on it. But lying meant she wouldn't need to speak in class for a couple of weeks and disappearing was her sole priority at the moment.

The hour went by faster than Martha liked. Sitting in the back row meant the class faced away from her and she enjoyed the break. With five minutes left, Mrs. Hernandez said, "All right, that will be it for today. Feel free to spend the remainder of the hour reading ahead – I want you through chapter three by tomorrow. If you find it necessary to talk, please keep it below a roar."

Everyone talked.

The girl in front of Martha turned and said, "I'm Camisha. Your name's Martha?" Camisha had jet black hair parted on the side and wore a checkered flannel shirt tucked into bleached jeans. She was direct, but Martha detected no malice. She seemed normal. After her morning, Martha was desperate for normal.

"Yeah."

"Were you talking to Jimmy Quinn before school?"

Martha assumed she meant James. "I think... uh... the boy with the gray jacket?"

"Right. Cute white boy?"

Martha thought 'cute' was an understatement. "Sure, I guess."

"What's up with that?" Camisha asked. "You guys know each other?"

"No... Not before this morning."

"Weird."

Martha was relieved. Yes, it was weird, she thought. Really, really weird!

The bell rang and the class stood to leave. Camisha said, "What's your next class?"

"French with Mr.... uh..." She reached for her schedule.

"Atwater?" Camisha guessed.

"Yeah."

"Aw hell. That's me too. Come on, let's walk."

"Okay." They left the room together.

Martha felt buoyed next to Camisha. Still, she kept her chin down and tried not to make eye contact with any of the other students they passed. "So Jimmy Quinn – what's his deal?" Martha asked.

"He's a senior. He's cool. Strange though. Some people say he's gay."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"He's never had a girlfriend," Camisha explained. "Like, he's really smart and funny and nice and fine, but he's never had one. Not in high school, not junior high, not grade school – nothing. And lots of girls have tried."

They reached French class. A balding red-headed man at the blackboard said, "Bonjour Mademoiselle Raines."

"Bonjour Monsieur," replied Camisha.

"Et bonjour. Es tu Mademoiselle... Beckett?"

"Oui," replied Martha.

"Bienvenue."

Martha and Camisha took desks at the back of the class. Camisha continued, "Not that I got issues with gay people. My cousin's gay. He graduated last year. Crazy thing is, he swears Jimmy's not. Says he can tell."

The bell rang. The class was half full as students continued to trickle in. It appeared as though Mr. Atwater had a relaxed attitude toward punctuality.

Martha hoped to stretch their conversation as far as she could. "So I'm guessing he's never had a boyfriend either?"

"Not that I know of."

"Maybe it's religious – like, he's saving himself?"

"I don't think so. Besides, they date. They just don't get freaky." Camisha assumed a sympathetic tone. "I know what you're thinking and I just wouldn't get my hopes up. Too many girls have been in tears over that boy."

"Silence, si vous plait," said Mr. Atwater.

Martha whispered, "Cool. Thanks."

"All good," replied Camisha.

Class began.

Martha's seventh period calculus ended and she gathered her things to leave. The classes after French had followed a routine for her: find the room, meet the teacher, sit in the back, and wait for the bell.

She was close. One more class, an awkward ride home with her dad, and Martha could be alone again.

Chemistry was on the opposite side of the school from calculus, but Martha was able to make it just before the bell. The room was a class / laboratory hybrid with students seated at lab tables in pairs. She approached the teacher, Mr. Conners, at the front. He had thick glasses and thinning hair. Martha said, "Hello."

"Hello. You must be Miss Beckett."

"Yes."

"You can take the open spot in the back with Mr. Quinn."

Martha turned her head and, sure enough, on the left hand side of the back row was James and an empty stool. He wore a faint smile and appeared to be amused by the development. Unlike Martha, he did not appear to be experiencing a panic attack. She headed up the center aisle half expecting to puke, faint, or spontaneously combust but made it to her table without a scratch.

"Unlikely," said James with a shake of his head.

Martha did her best to match his calm. "Sorry?"

"Today we're gonna talk about stoichiometry," Mr Conners droned at the chalkboard.

"Very, very unlikely. The incident this morning... Now we're lab partners..." He shook his head and sighed. "Unlikely."

"Stoichiometry is founded on the law of conservation of mass..."

"And I don't even believe in fate," James continued. "But this does not seem normal."

"Yeah, it was crazy... is crazy," said Martha. She allowed herself a modest laugh at the absurdity and James responded in kind. The levity was having an effect. Her nausea was gone and her breathing stable.

"However it happened, it looks like you're stuck with me," said James.

"Mr. Quinn?" said Mr. Conners from the front of the class.

"Yes, Mr. C?"

"Please stop distracting Miss Beckett."

"Sure thing Mr. C." James held both thumbs outward. "Aaaaaayyyyyyy." Mr. Conners chuckled with genuine amusement and returned to the chalkboard. James whispered to Martha, "Mr. Conners is a huge Happy Days fan."

She smiled and tried to concentrate on the equation Mr. Conners was balancing. She recalled Camisha's advice. He is not flirting, she thought. He's friendly. He's nice. That's it.

"I'll be passing back a work packet," said Mr. Conners. "One of you will balance the first equation and the other will check the work and then you'll switch."

The packet reached their table. Martha took it and said, "I'll go first, I guess?"

"You got it."

Martha loved math. It was simple. It was honest. The problems had solutions. She finished the first equation in about fifteen seconds and handed it to James.

"Wow, you're fast," he said. He looked it over. "This equation could not be more balanced." James solved the second equation in about fifteen seconds and handed it to Martha.

Wow, he's fast. Martha checked it. "Looks good," she said then started on the third. She felt level to him – emboldened by the math enough to ask, "So what happened this morning?"

"This morning in the cafeteria?"

"Yeah, like... How did... What you said to Christian – how did you..."

"Well, I've known him since grade school and he's been having a rough year. His dad's been in and out of his life since forever and he left again this summer – actually blamed it on Christian on the way out. He's harmless, though – just acting out." He returned the packet. "The other one, Robbie..." Martha watched as James' focus appeared to drift for a moment before returning. "I'd keep your distance from Robbie."

"Why? What's his origin story?" Martha joked.

James shrugged. "It's complicated. Fun fact – his prized possession is an 8-inch Bowie Knife. Carries it with him most of the time – probably had it on him this morning."

"In school?" Martha exclaimed. "Should we tell somebody?"

James shook his head dismissively. "He won't use it. It wouldn't be worth our trouble."

"Okay, I guess," Martha said then returned to the math. "This looks good." The problems became more and more complex but they managed to finish the packet in ten minutes, neither making an error.

"You are very good at chemistry," James said.

"Thanks." With every kind phrase from his lips, Martha had to beat back a flourish of optimism. "My dad's a chemical engineer. He's starting at Fermilab next week."

James' eyes went wide. "No."

Martha nodded.

"Really? That's cool."

"Yeah, I guess." Martha hadn't changed her mind about her father. Nothing about him, his job, or moving here was cool. But the kind, attractive boy who was somehow also a chemistry nerd made her forget herself.

"Is that why you moved – because of his work?"

She nodded and said, "He lost his job in California about a year and a half ago. Someone he used to work with ended up being a big deal at Fermilab and hooked him up. And here I am."

"That sucks."

It had been a painful week and a half since everything changed. She felt her throat tighten and exhaled slowly.

"I mean, I'm happy you're my lab partner," James said. "But it must have been tough to have to leave everything."

She felt her eyes well and blinked back the tears. Bawling in the middle of chemistry class wasn't an option, but it felt good to feel bad. It felt good to be understood. So despite the implausibility of James, Camisha's well intentioned warning, and the inevitable disappointment and heartbreak, Martha decided to feel good.

"I'm happy to be your lab partner too."

Author's note:

It sure was a different time.  When I was in high school.  There wasn't a single kid who was out.  Maybe one or two stuck their toe out of the crack in the door, but no one was out-out. 

In addition to the pressure to be straight, everyone was required to either have or wish to have a boyfriend or girlfriend.  No one was allowed to be happily single.  It all seems pretty silly looking back.  High school... amirite?

Like, totally 90's detail:  Not quite from the 90's, but Happy Days was a show heavily re-aired in the 80's and 90's.  Its most popular character was The Fonz (he of shark jumping fame among others).  James' impression is killer.