Jennifer Queen
Free Writing
When
I first saw him, I don’t know, I just
stopped thinking. Just like that!
One minute, I was sitting in English listening to you go on about some
stupid poem, something about some Greek god that isn’t real. There’s a picture of him in our book. Apollo, that’s the god. I think there’s a car they used to make with
the same name. A Buick. My grandfather drives one with those special
license plates that say Historical
Vehicle on them. He’s so proud of
that old car that smells like his cigarettes and yucky cologne.
Anyway,
I remember what I was thinking: How could
those Greeks believe stupid things like this?
How could they believe that there were a bunch of gods? That lived up on a mountain? That the men gods had girlfriends down on
earth? And one, that Zeus guy, once he
made himself a swan—and then he saw a girl named Leda, and he … yuk. It’s too gross to even think about. And how could the Greeks believe that some of
their men gods looked like this Apollo guy?
Like this picture? There’s no way
that real gods are supposed to be hot.
Gods should be old and hairy and religious looking.
And
I’ll admit it, the picture in the book made the Apollo guy look kind of cute,
not that he is my type of guy or anything.
I don’t really like hair that long.
Or curly. Well, if the guy is
cute and has curly hair, that’s okay.
But just curly doesn’t make a
guy cute. No, cute makes curly okay. There’s a difference. Think about it.
Anyway,
I seem to be getting off the subject here, distracted. I can’t help it. I’ve felt weird ever since that English
class. Ever since I was sitting there
thinking about stupid Greek gods, thinking that they weren’t real.
And
then one walked right in the door. A
real one.
And I just stopped thinking.
People
were saying things, I don’t know. The
teacher was introducing him, maybe, and that weird office girl Whatever Hermes was
with him, but she didn’t stay, or maybe she did, I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter. The only thing I do remember is this—his name.
Brian Novell. I made my ears listen, I made my memory
work, made it record that name in the
place where I put things I don’t ever want to forget, but the rest of my brain had quit
working. Except for the part that
controls the eyes. Now that
part of my brain was working just fine.
My
eyes were like two giant sponges and Brian Novell was like made out of water
and my eyes were like just soaking him up.
And
then he was moving along the aisles toward the only empty seat. And right then I wished that the kids on
either side of me were absent.
Or
dead. Dead would be better, really, because
then the seat would be open permanently, not just for a day or so.
But
he sat down in the only empty seat, the one right next to that weird Emily girl
who reads all the time. I turned clear
around in my seat and stared at him. I couldn’t help it! And while I was staring at him, I heard
things hitting the floor, books or something, it doesn’t matter.
I
waited there, with my back to the teacher, staring at Brian Novell. And then, like magic, he looked at me! And from his blue eyes came a kind of force,
something, I don’t know, but it was like a power, a liquid like lava that
flowed out of his eyes and burned right into mine and erased from my brain
every memory of every other cute guy I’d ever seen.
I
felt a hand on my shoulder. But I
couldn’t look away from Brian’s bright eyes.
I was hearing something from the person who touched me. A voice.
A familiar voice. The teacher’s voice. It was saying words I couldn’t understand,
like Greek or something.
I
couldn’t really say what it was, but it doesn’t matter, because from the moment
I saw Brian Novell, I just stopped
thinking.
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