014

We spent most of the rest of class just copying down text from the textbooks—my absolute most hated thing to do. I could never fathom why just reading from, or studying the text wasn't good enough. Nevertheless, my high spirits persisted throughout and I charged ahead with hand-copying the pages we were instructed to onto my notebook.

Afterward, the teacher was feeling merciful for once so she allowed us to spend the last ten minutes of class chilling out. I decided to make the most out of that time by once again listlessly gazing out the window. While I was thoroughly enjoying myself, however, I felt a quick tap on my shoulder. I uttered a curious hum and turned around to see who had poked me.

It was Tamara. One seat back in the adjacent aisle of desks, she was one of the girls I was actually on friendly terms with. Usually, the black girls in school wouldn't even give me the time of day but Tamara was different—and she was super cute to boot.

"Hey, Anthony," she greeted me with a ti