The class walked silently to the library. It was somewhat unusual, but the girl took no notice. She could only think of how much she loathed the seat that she sat in. She didn’t know how she could be so thickheaded to sit in that seat. It was the seat right next to one she had been in two years ago. It was the one where two years ago she had begun to shake with fear and excitement at what had been said there. However, it was two whole years ago that it happened. She was over it. Although, she couldn’t help but think that the seat had some meaning to it. She would eventually find out that perhaps, it did.

The class walked in and she picked up a book and went to the loathed seat, expecting another tormenting hour of being bothered by the people who sat among her. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just have enough sense to move seats. If felt wrong to move, in a way, she possibly expected something to happen. It was too much to ask for, she knew, but she continued to sit there, anyway.

The red-haired girl sitting a few seats away from her laughed at the jokes the other boys threw out. Although the last thing the jokes were was funny, the group continued to laugh. The girl sitting in the hated seat tried as hard as she could to stare at the book she was reading. It was hard to focus with the constant yelling of her mispronounced name and laughing across the table. She decided she would just ignore it.

She could feel that the red-haired girl had started to talk to someone sitting at the table in front of them. The red-haired girl and a brown-haired boy shared a few words then went back to their seats. The girl in the seat continued to try to be deeply engaged in taking her notes, but couldn’t help giving furtive glances to the group of boys and the red-haired girl talking.

Not even a minute had passed since the secret conversation between the red-haired girl and the brown-haired boy had ended when suddenly a whisper was directed toward the girl in the seat. By the second whisper the girl managed to realize that it was her name being said. For once, it was said correctly. Taking this as a note of approval that she could answer, she looked up to see it was the brown-haired boy saying her name. He whispered something quick and soft, which made her unable to hear. The girl would regret her next move. She requested that the brown-haired boy repeat what he had whispered.

“Would you go out with me?” It was an obvious joke.

The red-haired girl laughed at the question and the girl in the seat looked at the boy, disgusted. This was the last she would take any of it.

The next day she sat on the other side of the library.

Want to comment on this Creative Non-Fiction? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Creative Non-Fiction and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...