Halli Gomez - List of Ten

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

I stepped into the room the same second I got to ten. Also the same second the bell rang. Yeah, it sounded cool, but required absolutely no talent or planning. I counted my steps every day, so it was bound to happen at some point.

Of course, I still had to make it to my desk before class started. In other classes Id be considered late and heading to the teachers desk to pick up a detention slip, but Mrs. Frances didnt care. Probably because it took her a few minutes to get her stuff together, and right now she was preoccupied with her computer.

My desk was in the front row, but on the far side of the room. I stood in the doorway and debated which path to take. The long way down the side, across the back, then up to my desk, or the shortest across the front. My neck twitched. My hands squeezed into fists.

Since class hadnt started yet, everyone sat in their best conversation positions, facing away from the teacher. Abhy and Spencer argued about whether Luke Skywalker was Reys father, and three girls puckered and posed in front of the phones they held at arms length. Their fascination with Instagram selfies would make it possible for me to walk across the room without being noticed.

I took a deep breath and the first step. One. Youd think I was heading toward the electric chair. It was just science, which happened to be my favorite subject. Another step. Two. I stretched my legs to maximize the distance. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

I was three desks from mine, but it didnt matter. Id hit the magic number. I bent down, touched the floor, and just in case someone saw, fumbled with my shoelaces like thats the real reason my hands were near the nasty floor. From the corner of my eye I saw Jasons eyes on me. Busted. Heat rushed from my neck to my forehead, and not because they turned on the heat in this school. I stood up, took three giant steps to my desk, one, two, three, whispered the remaining seven to get to ten, and fell into my chair.

My neck twitched. My hands squeezed into fists. Repeat. I pulled A Farewell to Arms out of my backpack. If anything could take my mind away from here it was World War I. I read and annotated until Mrs. Frances stood up, barely visible above her computer monitor, and pushed her wide black-framed glasses farther up her nose.

New term, new seats, she announced.

For one breathtaking minute, my body froze. Okay, it was literally scared stiff, but the neck twitches and hand squeezing stopped. I savored the stillness.

Then the minute passed.

My head bobbed to my left shoulder. My left shoulder lifted to my head. Repeat. Head bob, shoulder lift. Head bob, shoulder lift. Of course it came back. Id done the neck twitch every day, every hour, every few minutes since I was six. But right now it was out of control.

I pleaded with Mrs. Frances. My mind to her mind. My eyes to hers. Please dont do this. Dont change my comfortable hell. She moved to the front of the room and studied the paper in her hand.

Okay, everyone pack up your materials and move to the back.

Chairs scraped around me. Papers fluttered. The mumble of voices drifted behind me.

I took a deep breath. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Mrs. Frances looked up from her paper. Her eyes landed on me.

Troy, pack up your books.

My chest tightened. She interrupted me in the middle. And on an odd number.

Eight, nine, ten. I shoved the book in my backpack and started again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I stood up, trudged to the back, and fitted myself into the corner. Mrs. Frances consulted her paper, called out a name, and pointed to my old desk. Bradley.

One of the selfie girls giggled. Bradley moaned.

Mrs. Frances, can I have another seat?

Whats wrong with that one? she asked.

Bradley glared at me like this desk-switching event was my idea. Mrs. Frances could have said half the class had Ebola and it was a contamination issue. It wouldnt have mattered. It took me four months to get comfortable in the last seat.

Its... well... hes .. , Bradley said. Nothing.

Bradley sighed, turned away from me, and took the long way to the seat. I tensed my neck muscles and occupied my mind by mentally reciting the periodic table. I didnt want to see him disinfect my old chair before sitting down. And someone who frequently forgot their deodorant after PE shouldnt be worried about me.

I recited all the elements, but as usual, my brain changed directions on me and fixated on something else: the papers in my backpack. They were probably crumpled from stuffing everything inside. I wrinkled my face to mimic the wrinkled papers.

My neck twitched again. My face scrunched itself up. Another neck twitch. Then a face scrunch neck twitch combo. Great, a new one. I slumped further into the corner and stared at my sneakers.