It's a Writing Binge!! More Ni :)
Ni sighs, tapping her pen against her desk as she stares out the classroom window. The snow's melting; that's exciting. She sighs again and tucks a loose strand of pink behind her ear. Sometimes she wonders if her life will ever be anything but normal. Not that normal's bad or anything... but when the change of season is the only thing you've got to look forward to, life does seem a little dull.
"Niamh? Do you have something to add?"
"What? I'm sorry..." she blushes brightly as she's called on, realizing she hasn't followed the class discussion for at least the last five or ten minutes and has no idea what they're talking about.
"Come back to Earth for a bit, okay?" her teacher teases half seriously, moving on to someone else as she nods and focuses again...
* * *
"Niamh? Can I speak to you a moment?"
Her teacher stops her as sbe's heading out, the rest of her classmates shooting her a sympathetic look as they pass and she hangs back. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harris; I don't know where my mind was at today. It won't happen again," she starts, figuring it must be about her spacing out in class, but her teacher only waves off her apology.
"Don't worry about that; happens to the best of us sometimes. It's certainly not typical of you."
She breathes a silent sigh of relief at his forgiveness, but quickly turns puzzled as to why he'd held her back then. Mr. Harris is one of her better teachers; it was unusual for her to space in his class. Mostly because he reminded her of a young Indiana Jones; tall, good-looking with his curly, brown hair and chocolate eyes, the eternal 5 o'clock shadow, and the stories he tells. He's been all over Africa and Europe studying relationships in different cultures and he always has a tale or two to bring to class. "I'm sorry, so... what did you want to talk to me about?"
* * *
Walking home from the bus, she's more distracted than usual and halfway there she slips on a patch of melting ice, landing hard in a freezing-cold puddle of water that quickly soaks her pink-plaid skirt and white tights. Just perfect, she thinks, as she scrambles to her feet and hurries the rest of the way home to throw them in the wash and change into a pair of flowy pj bottoms. She has no intention of going out tonight; too much to think about, and she wants to talk to her Mom about it, too. She takes the pamphlets Mr. Harris had given her out and settles into the big, poofy chair in the living room to wait for her Mom. Bright, confident smiles beam out at her from the pages, but she's not sure she feels the same. It is... exciting though. The prospect of living and studying overseas; Mr. Harris had thought it would be a good idea to finish up her degree someplace different, especially considering her actual focus was in anthropology. She could travel. That would be something different at least... something definately not normal and boring at least...
"Niamh? Do you have something to add?"
"What? I'm sorry..." she blushes brightly as she's called on, realizing she hasn't followed the class discussion for at least the last five or ten minutes and has no idea what they're talking about.
"Come back to Earth for a bit, okay?" her teacher teases half seriously, moving on to someone else as she nods and focuses again...
* * *
"Niamh? Can I speak to you a moment?"
Her teacher stops her as sbe's heading out, the rest of her classmates shooting her a sympathetic look as they pass and she hangs back. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harris; I don't know where my mind was at today. It won't happen again," she starts, figuring it must be about her spacing out in class, but her teacher only waves off her apology.
"Don't worry about that; happens to the best of us sometimes. It's certainly not typical of you."
She breathes a silent sigh of relief at his forgiveness, but quickly turns puzzled as to why he'd held her back then. Mr. Harris is one of her better teachers; it was unusual for her to space in his class. Mostly because he reminded her of a young Indiana Jones; tall, good-looking with his curly, brown hair and chocolate eyes, the eternal 5 o'clock shadow, and the stories he tells. He's been all over Africa and Europe studying relationships in different cultures and he always has a tale or two to bring to class. "I'm sorry, so... what did you want to talk to me about?"
* * *
Walking home from the bus, she's more distracted than usual and halfway there she slips on a patch of melting ice, landing hard in a freezing-cold puddle of water that quickly soaks her pink-plaid skirt and white tights. Just perfect, she thinks, as she scrambles to her feet and hurries the rest of the way home to throw them in the wash and change into a pair of flowy pj bottoms. She has no intention of going out tonight; too much to think about, and she wants to talk to her Mom about it, too. She takes the pamphlets Mr. Harris had given her out and settles into the big, poofy chair in the living room to wait for her Mom. Bright, confident smiles beam out at her from the pages, but she's not sure she feels the same. It is... exciting though. The prospect of living and studying overseas; Mr. Harris had thought it would be a good idea to finish up her degree someplace different, especially considering her actual focus was in anthropology. She could travel. That would be something different at least... something definately not normal and boring at least...