She slid onto the cold, stiff swivel stool, praying that she’d blink and the dreadful chemistry class would zoom by, but when she glanced up at the clock she realized that only a few seconds had passed and the bell reverberated through the tiny classroom, marking the beginning of another boring school year.

              Her teacher, a man that had to be in his thirties, with glasses and a terribly monotone voice, welcomed them to honors chemistry and introduced himself as Mr. Brockman. He sat down at his desk and looked through his attendance sheet, calling names at the speed of a sloth, and she swore that he could lull anyone to sleep.

              “Analia,” he called, startling her.

              “Yes? Oh, um- here.” She sunk back in her seat as a kid at the table across from her snorted and whispered something to his friend, and she’d never wanted anything more than to disappear.

              “I think that’s it. Now if you’ll open your textbooks to page-“

              The door suddenly creaked open and slammed behind him as a kid clad in a faded grey hoodie and jeans quickly walked into the room and sat down next to her, battered backpack that probably should’ve been thrown away years ago, thrown to the floor next to him.

              Mr. Brockman looked back at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re late.”

              “Yes sir,” the boy mumbled. The kid was all skin and bones from what she could tell, his hoodie not exactly fitting him correctly. He had black shaggy hair that fell in front of his dark eyes and the demeanor of an injured animal, scared, yet ready to strike if someone got too close. “I’m aware. It won’t happen again.”

              “Oh, I am aware of that too,” the teacher responded in the most upbeat voice he had spoken all of class, and if she weren’t mistaken, she swore there was a hint of a smile on his face. “First day of school and you’re already late, Mr.…”

              “Sasha,” he answered sharply.

              The teacher raised his brows. “No last name?”

              “Not one worth telling you.”

              The teacher nodded and smirked. “I’ll see you after class, Mr… Sasha.” He turned back around towards the board and told everyone to open their textbooks.

              “He seems sadistic,” Analia commented to the boy in a low voice so that Brockman wouldn’t overhear. “Did you see that smile?”

              “Oh yeah. I’m getting a detention, for sure.”

              “You were only a few minutes late.”

              He shrugged. “He doesn’t care.”

              Analia glanced up at the board as the teacher scrawled his name across it. “The person sitting next to you will be your lab partner for the rest of the year. Now if you look at the syllabus, you’ll read-“

              She tore a piece of paper from her notebook. Sasha noticed, a sudden panicked look crossing his eyes. “What are you doing?”

              Analia didn’t respond, just threw the wad of paper at the target. It hit Mr. Brockman in the back of the head, causing a few students to laugh. He turned sharply, a look of fury in his eyes. “Who threw that?”

              Confidentially, she raised her hand, and Analia swore she could see the veins popping out of his neck. “I’ll see you after class, too.”

              Once he turned back around, she looked to Sasha, who was smiling at her despite the shock in his soft, brown eyes, and the closer she looked at him, she couldn’t help but think that he was actually quite handsome. Then they both turned back to their work, an unspoken message, and Analia couldn’t help but think that maybe chemistry class wouldn’t be so boring after all.