Beautiful

I am walking briskly, almost running. I need to see her and I do. Beside the photocopying machine, of all places. I wanted to deliver the good news privately but stuff it, it can’t wait any longer, I can’t wait. I see her and we smile at each other. That knowing smile.

 

“I think I deserve a hug!”

“Why?”

“I got A’s on my history exam!”

She hugs me.

“And you’ve been there for five minutes. He must be very impressed.”

“I know, I can’t believe it. It’s amazing. It’s un-believable.”

“Now, that can be the topic of your next letter: self-belief.”

“You’re expecting it, eh?”

“You can do anything.”

 

Mrs F joins in and tells her that I am in her homeroom.

“She’s beautiful,” says Mrs M.

“She is.”

And that made me feel more overjoyed than my solid-A.

 

A few hours later, I have Extension English. I hand her back my A-standard assessment with a smile and a ‘thank you’, expecting her to say something. Anything. “Thanks,” she says with a smile, that familiar genuine Ms C smile. That’s all. I turn and head to the door, disappointed. Suddenly, I hear a voice calling my name. I look back. “I can’t believe you were worried about that. You ripped it.” In my head I was thinking: Damn it, Mrs M told you about how worried I was, didn’t she? Then I find myself saying almost instinctively: I really liked the task. “It shows.” I turn and head to my next class feeling so incredibly fulfilled that I can’t help but stop and stare at the cloudless blue sky – a promising sight.

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