This is a regular column featuring original fiction by and for high school students, provided by Figment.com, an online community writing site for young people.
Sitting beside her, I can hear the low muffled beating of her heart. I cannot concentrate on the lecture going on before me. My nose is filled with the sweet, gentle scent of cherry blossoms that rises from her skin, and my sight is blurred with the vision of her countenance. I want to reach out and touch her glowing skin, but I hold back. I trap my breath inside, afraid that she might hear the thunderous ba-bump of my pounding heart.
Stop! Stop it! You need to concentrate.
I put my fingers up to my temple and squeeze my eyes shut. But it is impossible. Her presence fills my every sense, invoking in me the kind of feeling you get when you run in a shower of warm rain. As I glance to my left to take a peek at her, I am startled to see that she is looking at me too, her endless pool of brown eyes staring intently. Her mouth opens and sounds whisper out, but I hear none of it. I back away instinctly, struggling to repress my intense feelings. I try to listen to what she is saying, but my ears are filled with the chime of her voice. What she is saying makes no sense whatsoever, but my heart is sure that what it is feeling is real. Clenching my teeth together, I gather up every last inch of my courage and look at her. My eyes meet hers and they lock together. I can't look away. Not this time. I feel myself melting under her gaze and stay there, unable to release myself from the trance that I am under.
Is she an angel? An elf? An alien? She must be a being from another world to have such a weird effect on me.
Closing my eyes I force myself to break the spell. I shrug at her, not knowing what to say. A ghost of a smile flits across her red bow-shaped lips. Surely I am melting, if not already in a watery puddle on the floor at her feet. My chest bubbles up like a hot air balloon. But before I can hold back, the bubbles of air fly out the other end, resulting in a loud, high-pitched squeal that makes the entire class of 120 turn and look at me with wide eyes. She is also staring, her eyes widening. Silence ensues. I feel my cheeks go up in flames. So embarrassed that I could die, I hold my breath, wishing myself to disappear from her sight forever.
She smiles at me. Her lips pull across her face in a hysterical grin. I feel the tension suddenly fly from me as she swiftly covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. Okay, so you're probably wondering why I would be happy having the girl I like laughing at me and my gaseous tendencies, but it is a lot more amazing than you may think. The smile that lit up her face was because of me. Incompetent as I was, the smile that was making her 10,000 times more beautiful was because of something that I did. Me. Regardless of the embarrassment I suffered in that split second, the smile that she gave me made it all a million times more worthwhile.
- p. tedjo