Page 24 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

“You would’ve just come with us,” I said. “We wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Davud stopped outside of his classroom and turned his chair so he could look up at me.

“LKC doesn’t have a ramp.”

I shrugged. “It’s only a few steps. I’d have helped you.”

He stared blankly up at me.

“I don’t want everything I do to require help, Ryan,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t want to be carried up and down stairs. Or wait for people to fold my chair and put it in the trunk. Or ask for extra space in a restaurant for my chair. Or…whatever. Sometimes it’s easier to just stay home.”

“I get that,” I said. “Sorry. If I was insensitive—”

“No, man,” he said with a wave. “I’m glad you think of me. When I say ‘no’ to invitations, it’s not personal. Meaning, it’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you. Okay?”

“Yeah. No worries,” I gave him a soft nudge on his shoulder. “I’ll keep inviting you, though. But I won’t get offended if you keep saying ‘no,’ all right?”

Davud smiled. “Deal.”

When his eyes darted to look past me down the hallway from where we’d come, I knew it was time to leave.

“Here comes the horde,” he said. “You better book it to English.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the wall of students flowing towards us.

“Oof. Yeah. All right,” I said as I started to walk backwards, “Get those movie recommendations figured out!”

“Will do,” he said. “Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.”

Davud and I exchanged smiles and I turned to dash down the hallway. Right before I turned, I saw Davud slip into Mr. Martin’s classroom. Luckily, he had avoided the chaos. It took some doing, but I managed to push through the crowd fighting against me to get to their classes in the maths hall.

Once I’d forced my way back out into the main hall, the crowd was actually thinning out. Streams of students were trailing into classroom hallways. In the time it took me to help Davud to his class, the rest of the students in the building had managed to get their crap together. Though order was out of the question in the cafeteria, they somehow managed to find some common sense once it was time to get to class.

By the time I got to the English hall, it was completely empty. Everyone had already made it to the classroom they belonged in, and I was going to be the last man in Ms. Tabatabai’s classroom. I never liked being the last guy into a class. The stares from other students—dozens of pairs of eyes following your every move—and the glare from the teacher was always annoying. So, when I breezed into English, I ignored everyone else and made a beeline for Ms. Tabatabai’s desk.

“I was helping Davud to Trigonometry,” I mumbled under my breath as I leaned down to speak to her.

Ms. Tabatabai’s steely gazed softened and she gave me a simple nod.

“Take your seat, Ryan,” she said.

I didn’t respond, but I slipped over to my desk and slid into my seat next to Jules. When I glanced over at my bestie, she gave me a questioning look, but I indicated we’d talk later. She seemed to accept that and turned her eyes back to the front of the room.

Ms. Tabatabai made her way up to the podium at the front of the class, a piece of paper in hand. After several attempts to get everyone’s attention, the class finally settled down, and the talking tapered off. Once she had everyone’s attention, Ms. Tabatabai held up the paper.

“I’m going to pass around ‘about me’ charts to all of you,” she announced. “It has spots for you to put your name, email addresses, socials, phone numbers, all of your contact info, along with a short bio if you want. You can exchange them with your project partner. So you have multiple ways to get in touch outside of class to work together.”

No one seemed to have a problem with this plan, so the class remained silent.

“You don’t have to provide all of your information to your partner—privacy is important—but at least give them your email address or phone number. It’s impossible to work together if you can’t get ahold of each other, right?”

Everyone murmured in agreement.