When I say that I am intelligent, I do not mean it in a prideful way; I am only stating the truth that others have agreed with. I’ve been given awards for my smarts so that has to mean something.

My name is Davis Will Harris, though most people call me Day. I rather hate the nickname, but no matter how many times I have said it, no one has stopped.

I’ve learned to deal with it, like many things.

I live with my single mother, my older brother, my younger sister, and our dog, Jenny. My brother is in eleventh grade, I myself just starting high school, and my sister is in first grade.

Many teachers have said that I needed to be placed into a gifted program or a private school. My mother has declined every offer, saying that I would feel out of place there, but really the reason is this: she doesn’t have the funds for it.

I don’t really know how to feel about that. Should I be angry or feeling cheated out of opportunities? Though I’m quite smart, feelings are the one thing that I don’t understand.

Which is why I think that something is wrong with me. Many people think that I have a mental problem, but I don’t think that. My mother definitely doesn’t say anything about it. It would cost her money for treatments. But I don’t think that I have that sort of thing.

I’m just…me.

And today I’m starting my first day of high school. I have no words to what I’m feeling. Happy? Excited? Scared? Nervous?

No, I’m ready.

***

The car is loud with my sister crying beside me in the backseat and my mother groaning for her to stop. My brother got lucky when he turned 16; got a car and everything.

“It’s alright, Kaylee!” Mom says. “It’ll be just like kindergarten, sweetheart.”

“No! No! Noooooo!” Kaylee cries, thrashing her brown arms and twisting in her booster seat. “I don’t wanna!”

I sigh through my nose and shift my bookbag across my legs again. Time to help.

“Kaylee, you know that Georgia might be in your class, right?” I turn to her.

She stops her tantrum immediately. “Really?” She stares at me with large innocent eyes.

I nod, noticing Mom watching from the rear view mirror. “Yes. Have I ever been wrong.”

Kaylee smiles. “Nope!” She faces forward in her booster seat, content. “Momma, Georgia is gonna be in my class!”

Mom laughs, “Is she?” Mom turns to me. “Thanks, Day.”

I shrug, then look out the window. “Oh, we’re here.”

Mom parks at the drop off stop, she catches me watching the mounds of kids pouring out vehicles and into the open doors to the large building of Greenatan Public High School.

Mom smiles at me. “Alright, honey, I already put some money in your lunch account, so you don’t need to worry about that. Is there anything else….” Her faces scrunches, and she opens her mouth to speak but then thinks better of it. She twists her body and leans back to straighten my already parallel glasses. Mom gives me a a light kiss and, though she tries to hide it, her eyes creasing when I don’t react.

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the kiss. It felt nice.

“Have a great day honey.” I open the car door and step outside to my first day.

***

I recognize many faces in my homeroom class. Attending the public school system since preschool would help with that.

But none of them are what I would call friends. I pick a seat in the middle: just in case I lose my glasses one day. People are chatting around me, catching up, exclaiming their excitement for the new year of high school.

I pick at the corner of my wood desk, head down to prevent someone from coming over for a conversation.

I’m not a fun person to talk to. I’m neither an introvert or extrovert; I’m just me.

Deadpan Day.

So when I feel a tap on my shoulder I look up sharply to see a pair of blue eyes staring down at me.

He’s tall, with short curly hair that’s dyed to an intense purple. He smiles at me with all his dimples and braces. I notice his jacket is a bright pink followed down with a pair of skinny jeans.

“Whatcha doing all alone?” His voice is deeper than the ocean. Deeper than the night sky. Deeper than a bottomless hole.

For some reason my body freezes, my cheeks grow warm, my heart starts to beat rapidly.

What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I breath? Why is there something hard between my legs?

He pulls out the chair to my right and sits in it, slinging his bookbag across his seat. As he does this he never takes his eyes off mine. The conversations around me seem…distant somehow.

**_What is this feeling?

_**“My name’s Kris—with a “K”,” He says, “What’s yours?”

I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly my throat feels dry and tongue is numb. Kris gives me another dimpled smile at my action. “D-Davis,” I stutter, “Davis Harris, but people call me Day.”

“What a formal introduction.” Kris says. The teacher, Mrs. Hills, walks in now and kids start making their way to their seats. “Anyways,” he continues whispering, eyeing the teacher until she turns around to the whiteboard, “I’m new to town, so I wanted to meet someone who’s been here a long time.”

I turn away from his hypotonic blue eyes, the color of the clean sea, and focus on Mrs. Hills. Some people were starting to watch us, especially the girl on my left, and I don’t want Kris to keep talking to me. He made me feel….

I shift my legs a bit.

….weird.

Kris, thankfully, seems to not be one of those people who have to continue talking. He leaves me be until after class.

As I’m trying to figure out the best way to organize my notes as I walk to my next class, Kris comes up beside me and touches my shoulder like he did last time. I turn away from him, face warm.

“Why,” I growl, scaring myself, “Can’t you leave me alone!”

Kris’ eyes go wide, then he pulls himself together and shrugs. “I dunno.”

He leans towards my face, bending over himself so our faces are on the same plane. I see some people looking at us.

“What are you—“

“Maybe because you’re cute…Day.” Kris sticks out his tongue and saunters off, pink jacket and all his purple haired glory.

My body feels all shivery.

“What?”

***

I don’t see him for the rest of the day. Not even at lunch. (I sit by myself and eat a soggy lunch sandwich) So, beside homeroom, I don’t have to see him anywhere else for the rest of the school year.

I don’t like him. Or his voice. Or his eyes….

Maybe I do. But I don’t know why.

I groan into my hands in my room, and Jenny gives me a whimper and a tilt of her head. I stratch her head before collapsing into my bed. Jenny, the golden retriever, jumps onto my bed and places her head on my chest.

“Jenny,” I sigh, “I don’t like the way he makes me feel.” I grit my teeth. “If this is a crush, it feels horrible. How do people deal with this?”

Jenny blinks. I laugh. “Why am I asking you? You’re just a dog.” I pat her body a bit before stroking her fur.

So I would just need to avoid and ignore Kris for the rest of the year to never feel this way again.

How hard would _that_ be?

***

_(Sooooo, I actually kinda made a short mini comic about this and decided to type it because I saw this prompt. If you made it this far, thanks! I know it was a lot of words! Anyway, I’ll probably make part one later [tomorrow] so if you like this you can read further in Day’s life. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!)_

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