NaNoWriMo#6 (Fleeing notice)

He stumbles into the classroom, arms and legs flailing. I search for his pursuer, as surely no one would be so flamboyant in entrance without being chased. But there is no one seeking to capture him. No one, it seems, even notices he is here.

He sits hunched over a notebook at his desk. A few illegible lines scribbled in a feigned effort to begin his day’s journal entry are being feverishly covered by purposed strokes of his pen as he sketches some mythical character all over the page. It’s as though his brain said “waste not, want not,” and recycled the space for expressions he found far more important to share.

As the block progresses, he continues to slump in his chair, occasionally pushing up glasses that slowly travel down his nose as he stares at his art piece. His book bag rests on the floor, carelessly tipped so that disheveled papers protrude from the disordered interior. No folders, binders, or other such containments house his work.

The bell rings. Quickly, he jumps from his chair. Swinging the open back page across his shoulder and adjusting his glasses once more. He retreats into the hallway – – traveling with his torso at a forward angle in a purposed speed that is unnecessarily harried.

At some point, he realizes his homework was due. He wraps his knuckle on the closed classroom door, interrupting his teacher from whatever papers she’s busy grading. “I… my work… here,” he says in a timid high-pitched whisper, shoving a slightly crumpled paper toward her. And then, huffing, he withdraws from the quiet learning space and into his own private world.

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