⋆ n e w   p a r t n e r s   &   f r i d a y   n i g h t   l i g h t s ⋆

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sonder (n.)
the realization that each passerby has a life
as vivid and complex as your own

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    THURSDAYS AT LINDON HIGH are filled with talk about the usual Friday night football game over soft tacos at lunch for Taco Thursday. However, today, our opposing team, the Mayfield Mustangs, aren't the only subject of interest. Snippets of conversations float over to my table like clouds on the wind, and I catch talk about a new quarterback, who supposedly broke several records at his previous high school. A lot is riding on the game tomorrow night since it will be the qualifier for semifinals. I will have to go, of course, though I've never been a large fan of football, and capture the looks of victory on our players' faces.

    I'm startled out of my thoughts as Nora March slides into the seat across from me. She is a sweet girl who I talk to sometimes in history. Her pale blonde strands of hair frame her round face and pink lips, which she always seems to be biting in nervousness. Her large, brown doe eyes give off the impression that she is always slightly surprised. She is quiet and thoughtful and also the closest thing I have to a friend. After all, no one really makes an effort to get to know the introvert.

    "Hey, Andy. Have you heard the news about the new football player? The running back or something?", she says softly and scrunches up her nose as she thinks.

    "Quarterback, but yeah. I'll have to make sure to get more shots of him at the game, since I'm sure he'll be the center of the article for The Lineup," I smile at her. Inside, I'm already groaning about having to shove my way through the crowds of excited people to the sidelines with all the sweaty players, alone. Then, I get an idea.

    "Hey, I know you're not a big fan of football, but I was wondering if you wanted to come to the game with me. You'd be on the sidelines, right in front of all the action," I shrug, and look up at her. She's beaming from ear to ear.

    "Oh my gosh, are you actually asking me to hang out? I honestly thought you just put up with me and didn't really like me. Of course I'll come, Andy! I'm so happy you asked.", she smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through me. I knew my shyness was an issue, but I never imagined it would be hurting someone. I give her a sad smile back, wondering why I couldn't just be normal.

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    I'm not surprised to see a seating chart on the board in chemistry when I walk in. It had been coming for a while now, with all of the constant chatter and the teacher's threats to reseat everyone. But when I see an unfamiliar name next to mine, I can't help but worry.

    Jordan who?

    I know everyone at this school, after all I'm the unofficial school photographer. While they may not know me, I know them. Still, I hesitantly climb onto the lab stool and wait worriedly for my seatmate. When the bell rings and they are a no-show, I let out a sigh of relief.

    Mrs. Dell walks to the front of the classroom and clears her throat, "These are the permanent seating arrangements until I decide otherwise." A chorus of groans fills the classroom, but I am happy. I don't have to worry about awkward interactions or an annoying partner.

    "Yeah, yeah, get over it. Now, as I was saying—", she is interrupted by the door banging open. A startlingly familiar boy stands at the entrance to the classroom. My heart involuntarily skips a beat as I take in his tall, lean body with a black t-shirt clinging to his toned chest and arm muscles. His black hair falls over his familiar green eyes as they take in the room, stopping at me for a split second before moving on. Hushed whispers about a quarterback and a hot new guy circulate through the desks of students.

    "And you must be Jordan Lee," Mrs. Dell says in that fake happy voice she often uses with our class, "go find your seat." She gestures to the board, and my heart drops when I realize he's my new lab partner. I turn away as he sits on the lab stool next to me. His strong cologne washes over me as I worry how to pretend to be normal. I can feel the cracks in the mask I wear as if it were physically on me, the mask of happiness and confidence I wear to cover my broken spirit and insecurity.

    The rest of class is filled with the incessant droning of the teacher and the rapid scribbling of pencils on paper. Every now and then, I sneak a side glance at Jordan, who's jaw remains clenched as he stares out the window. As soon as the bell rings, he is out of his seat, chair harshly scraping against the floor, and out the door before I can ask if he needs the notes.

I guess he's always like that.

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The next day after school, I wash my hair, my natural waves framing my face as they dry, before slipping on an old jersey in our school's colors over some jeans in order to fit in at the game. Although I've been blending into crowds at sporting events for years, my face tucked away behind a camera, I never fail to get nervous every time. I grab my camera bag and sports pass that allows me to stand on the sidelines at every event before driving over to pick up Nora.

    "Ohmygosh I am so excited to go today! I've been prepping my outfit for two hours! I can't believe I get to sit on the sidelines and swoon over all of our hot players. And can you imagine? We get to see the famous new quarterback up close!". Nora's loud chatter fills the car from the minute she gets in. She is simultaneously a series of exclamation points and three cups of coffee. She makes up for whatever enthusiasm and excitement I lack.

    We finally arrive in the crowded parking lot, people scattered all over it like wildflowers in a field. The faded orange sunset casts shadows over everything, distorting the faces of the couple kissing in the corner and giving a group of guys harsh contours on the planes of their faces. I have to slow down my walking for an awestruck Nora, who has never been through the side entrance to the stadium. The door slamming behind us cuts off the loud chatter from the lot, and we make our way down an empty hall beside the locker rooms.

    Nora is silent for once, reverent to her surroundings, as if we were standing in a hundred-year old cathedral rather than a high school football stadium. She stares at the trophy cases lining the hall, only a portion of what our school as earned. It's quite amusing to watch her solemnity as she takes it all in, like a baby's first steps into the snow. We reach the end of the hall, and I have to pull her out into the section reserved for us on the sidelines of the field.

The only other person there is Archer, the sports journalist for The Lineup. He calls out a quick greeting and I nod in response. He is always nearby at every sports game in our school, but unlike me, he is a fanatic. Today he wears a Lions baseball cap backwards, a jersey with the new quarterback's last name on it, which I didn't know they made so quickly, and has a line of dark blue paint under each eye. I roll my eyes and suppress a chuckle as I see it.

The football player's bench is to the right, big coolers of water on the side. I check my watch impatiently. Ten minutes. I glance around behind me on our side, rows of excited students and hardcore alumni parents dotting the stands.

"— and so I was like, what do you mean he cheated with Sara?", Nora continues, as I realize I've been fazing her out the entire time. She turns and looks at me suspiciously.

"Were you even listening?," she laughs when I shrug, "it's fine, I get it. A lot of people tell me I talk too much. Next time, just tell me to shut up." Before I can respond, I hear a roar from the other side of the stands as their team runs out, ripping through a banner with their school's name on it. I position myself in front of our locker room entrance, camera ready, as I hear the pounding of feet down the hall.