I hadn’t been paying attention to the time, but assumed that the beginning of my day’s class was nearing when a shadow fell over the words I had written. My gaze took me upward, out to the sky. Standing ahead of me was Sammi, a girl I’d gone to High School with who also happened to be studying the same course as I. My hands instinctively covered the poetry as I met the recognition in her eyes.

“Secret men’s writing, is it?” she inquired jokingly, her blond hair tied back in a ponytail for the first time in weeks. Sammi was the kind of girl who could be attractive one day and ugly the next, though her appearance to me usually depended on whether I found her to be annoying or pleasant on any particular occasion. I closed my notebook and slid my pen in my pocket. She grinned. “Guess so, then.” This was one of her pleasant days, and as she stood before me with folded arms, I decided I’d brighten it.

“Well, aren’t you looking radiant this afternoon?” Or perhaps I just wanted to change the topic. Sammi was a nice girl, but she did have the tendency to overemphasize her importance to anyone she came into contact with. Playing to that propensity was a sure-fire way to throw her off the scent of probing into my writing and hence, my personal life. She accepted the compliment happily as I began to wonder if comments like the one I’d just made caused her to think I was attracted to her. And then my mind reminded me that I don’t often compliment girls on their appearance, generally due to shyness, and I began to wonder if Sammi knew this, and if she did, whether it made her think that I was really attracted to her.

“So are you coming along to class or did you just come to campus for the company?” She joked again, obviously having a good day. I let a grin pervade, my thoughts interrupted momentarily as I prepared a suitable response.

“Oh, I’m coming. I’m just waiting for you to get going so I don’t have to walk in with you. I’ve got a reputation to uphold here, ya know? I can’t just go around being seen with the plebs.” Not the cleverest of retorts, but it’d do, I thought.

“The what?” asked Sammi, apparently ignorant to the meaning of the word. I smiled with superiority, her confusion a mild source of amusement to me. My thoughts were now away from Bianca as I picked myself up and began walking along side Sammi. The blue sky above us unfolded endlessly, wrapping around the visible world like a blanket. For the first time in a while, I felt okay, and as we entered the class room, I urged my mind to maintain the feeling.

Novel1A was the only subject in my Professional Writing & Editing course that I’d attended in as long as I could remember, and despite my continuing presence, I had neither learnt nor written a thing. For the past few months my attention had been entirely focused on Bianca and I certainly didn’t feel like penning a novel about her for all in my class to see. I’d barely spoken to my closest friends about her abrupt departure from my life, so there was no way I was going to open myself up so completely to a group of strangers. I much preferred to remain a closed book, an enigma in my own imagination. For years I’d opted not to speak often about my personal life to anyone, hoping instead that they would fantasize about me and invent a life in their minds that was much more interesting than the one I was living. Now that something relatively interesting was happening, I found that I didn’t really want to discuss it anyway. I would much rather my private business stay private.

Hornby had a kind face and his voice spread his words through the air like soothing clouds, but I still never listened to him. Something inside me, deep enough to be unrecognizable, told me that he had no idea what he was talking about and that there was no real reason for me to even show up to class. Nevertheless, I showed up, and each week I invented a new way to make the time pass without a single word of Hornby’s filtering into my head. This week I drew.

My right hand sheltered the page, making sure that no prying eyes caught glimpse of my pictures. For the hours that seemed to pass as vaguely and unnoticed as a landscape from inside a speeding vehicle, I sketched over and over, pictures of the mystery girl. Her face was still clear within my mind, as if my eyes had concentrated extra hard to observe and remember all of her features. My illustrations filled pages of my notebook furiously, though not one of them did the slightest bit of justice to the visage they originated from. I intensely gazed at each of my drawings once they were finished, wishing instead for a photograph, or even better, another meeting with the girl who had so rapidly imbued my infatuation. My stare was focused on the latest drawing, yearning for a hazel-coloured texta so that I could begin adding definition to her eyes in a vain attempt to convey their beauty, when a shadow once again enveloped my creation. And once again, the shadow was cast by Sammi. I covered the drawing entirely, either instinctively or because I was embarrassed. Sammi sighed lightheartedly.

“Always with the secrecy, aren’t you?” She spoke in a tone I interpreted as patronizing.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t always with the nosiness.” I replied, trying to keep the conversation jocular in spite of myself. She seemed to take my rejoinder in good stead before moving swiftly, her hands nimble and stealthy as they tore the book away from under my own. Her laughter fueled my already rising fury as she bounded out of the room with me hot on her tail. What was a playful gesture to her was one of avid disrespect to me. My privacy had been threatened.

As we put distance between ourselves and the class, she began to scan through the myriad of faces that filled my book. Humiliated rage coursed through me as I watched, both of us nearing a crowd of students. When Sammi finally came to them, she slowed down and turned to me, still flicking through the pages and observing the pictures.

“Who is it?” she asked, the lighthearted tone from earlier prevalent in her pitch.

“Can you just hand it back?” I requested tiredly, attempting to hide my anger so as not to make a scene amongst the surrounding students.

“Not until I… oh, wait a sec, here’s someone who might be able to help.” Her eyes veered away to her right, somewhere behind me, and she called “Katya, hey, come over here for a second.” A sense of dread furthered my embarrassment as the notion of another person being brought into this mess became a probability. I turned to my left, following the trajectory of Sammi’s empowered gaze only to have the dread I was feeling be replaced with screaming anxiety. Katya was approaching, floating elegantly through the gathering of strangers, and Katya was the girl from the train.

I didn’t even know if she’d yet seen me by the time she joined Sammi. Everything within me told me to run, to flee with rampant cowardice, to do whatever I had to do to avoid this situation. Though, I stayed, perhaps bound to the unfolding saga by the mere presence of the mystery girl, Katya. I watched as life happened.

“You know anyone that looks like this?” asked Sammi, actually trying to discern the identity of the girl from my sketches. My mind was empty, a blank canvas waiting for fate to determine the style of painting best suited to a circumstance like this. Katya eyed one of the pictures momentarily before glancing in my direction. A smile formed upon her face and suddenly I felt at ease. Then, just as suddenly, I wondered if her smile was one of cruelty, brought on by the sense of significance I’d given her. I desperately wanted to rip the book away from Sammi, but I didn’t want to chance looking either immature or embarrassed around Katya, so I simply stood there waiting, hoping she wouldn’t be able to identify herself.

“You again?” she spoke, recollection in her voice. I didn’t know what to say, so I just said:

“Yeah.” And then Sammi clicked, her eyes darting rapidly from Katya, to me, to the picture and back to Katya again. I wished an asteroid would come hurtling in from space and wipe all existence from the face of the planet. I wished I could disappear.

“It’s you!” She exclaimed excitedly to Katya, as if this was the greatest realization that had ever been made. Katya bowed her head modestly before sneaking another quick peek at the picture. Sammi directed her attention to me. “Am I right?”

I looked to the ground and saw the cracks beneath my feet. I implored them to open up and swallow me whole.

“I am right!” Sammi jumped enthusiastically as Katya wore what appeared to be a smirk. “When did you two meet?” The question was addressed to Katya in an incredulous tone. I again considered fleeing, but I was stuck, firmly entrenched in this awkward occasion.

“Just earlier today.” Katya answered, seemingly as uncomfortable as I was. Sammi’s hysterical eyes turned to me.

“And you’re already drawing her portrait! It must be love!” she exclaimed again, gleefully pouring kerosene on the imaginary fire I could feel myself burning in. My earlier feelings of contentment were being torn apart like unsent love letters and replaced with a desire to be absolutely anywhere other than where I was.

“Shut up!” Katya’s voice echoed over the many in my head, and she chuckled, pushing Sammi playfully. With cat-like suddenness, she then snatched the book and, without giving the pictures another glance, handed it back to me. Slight relief eased me momentarily, allowing me to unwittingly find eye contact with this mystery girl. The second I had, my eyes rushed sideward, avoiding hers and meeting Sammi’s. We each stood blankly for a time, paused in uncertainty, waiting for something to reveal a clue as to what happened next. A cocktail of wishes splashed around my mind, making it drunk and unclear. I wanted to leave and put this whole fragment of being behind me, as if it never transpired. I wanted Sammi to leave so that I could speak to Katya and attempt to fix the mess I imagined this had made. I wanted Katya to leave so that I could kidnap Sammi, take her to an out-of-the-way place and murder her. More than anything, I wanted reality to take the situation out of my hands and leave only one option. I’d never made a first move in my life, in any capacity, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to now.

“Well,” started Sammi, breaking what I translated as an uncomfortable silence, “I’ve really got to get to work. I’ll see you guys later.” She smiled and hugged Katya before beginning her departure. Then, just as I was beginning to delight in her absence, a taunting jibe shot back at us.

“Lovebirds!”

Both Katya and I watched as Sammi merrily skipped off like a deer in a blissful field, the prospect of romance in anyone’s life enough to make her happy. If I wasn’t so incredibly livid at her, I may have found her demeanor sweet. Moments passed before Katya and I finally met eyes. Mine quickly veered, focusing instead on the side of her face. I felt stupid, but I just couldn’t look directly at her.

“Sorry about her,” Katya began, referring to Sammi, “she gets excited about everything.”

“Yeah, I know.” I answered plainly, my mind commencing a running race where the finish line was clarity and the hurdles separating me from it were all the possible scenarios that could result in Katya thinking I was a freak. Meeting a stranger for the second time in a day and seeing that he’s sketched pictures of you in his notebook - she probably thought I was a stalker! I was sprinting headfirst into the hurdles, allowing them to smash and concuss me, when a remedying notion availed itself. It was this girl whom had instigated conversation with me, not the other way around, so there had to be some kind of reason, some kind of interest I had held for her. Just as quickly as that thought appeared though, another overtook it, suggesting that yes, maybe something about me had intrigued her originally, but what sane person could possibly maintain that interest after what just happened? Hours went by in seconds in my head, spinning me blindly toward nowhere.

“So, you want to go for a beer or something?” she asked, sparking a sudden withdrawal out of my mind and back into the real world. Did I want to go for a beer? This was the second time in history that a girl had made a move on me and I was ecstatic in the moment, wondering why the hell she’d just asked that question when there was a cacophony of others that appeared more logical. For instance, would you stop drawing pictures of my face, you obsessed lunatic! Almost getting lost in overthought, I had to force myself out of my head and back into the conversation again. I tried vehemently to mask my utter bewilderment as I eventually answered:

“Yeah… a beer would be great.”