Page 28 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

However, the guy dressed…unusually.

Though there were three different hallways that contained banks of lockers to look for him, all I had to do was look for students with hats. A.M. Whitemane had a pretty lax dress code. Hats were allowed as long as they were not profane or endorsed any political candidates or religions, so tons of students wore baseball caps and beanies. No one, in the history of my high school career, had ever worn a porkpie hat. Until Chris had enrolled.

Within two minutes, I had spotted the brown porkpie hat along the bank of lockers that lined the hall outside of the maths wing. For a minute or two, I hung back, making sure that I wasn’t in Chris’ line of sight. He was digging around in his locker as other students swirled around him, socializing, getting books for their first class, and generally making noise. As the clock ticked closer to eight o’clock, and it was apparent my opportunity to talk to Chris was disappearing, I made my move.

When I approached his locker, Chris’ eyes darted to the side to assess my arrival, but he didn’t turn to speak to me. So, I knew he had seen me even though he pretended otherwise. Students dashed back and forth around us, rushing to classes, laughing, wholly unaware of the war that was potentially brewing nearby. Finally, after what felt like forever, aware that I had no intention of leaving until we spoke, Chris shut his locker. He did it with a little more force than was necessary, but not so forcefully as to draw everyone’s attention in the hallway. He turned to me, his face blank.

And suddenly, I couldn’t bring myself to say what was actually on my mind—the thing I had decided to say when I had left my house that morning.

“Look,” I said, “I…we have to do this project.”

Chris continued to stare.

“Do you want to exchange emails?” I asked. “Texts? I have Snapchat and TikTok and Instagram?”

Nothing.

“Uh, do you want to meet at Bean Counter?”

When in doubt, take a cue from Connor Payne and invite your partner out for coffee.

Chris snorted derisively before yanking his backpack onto his right shoulder. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed past me, making sure his backpack slammed into me. I took a step back and put my shoulders against the bank of lockers, giving him a path away from me. My eyes stayed on the back of his head as he slipped down the maths hall and disappeared.

That went well.

“What was that about?” I jumped at the sound of Davud’s voice.

“What?” I snapped my head around to look for him

“That kid?” Davud had taken Chris’ place at his locker, his backpack hanging from the back of his chair. “Kind of aggressive, isn’t he?”

I laughed nervously.

“He’s new,” I said. “Uh, Ms. Tabatabai paired us up for our partner project.”

Davud shifted in his seat to look around me towards the maths hall.

“Oof,” he said with a smile before settling back in his chair. “Good luck with that.”

I simply smiled.

“I got Becca Crane,” Davud said, his hands going to his wheels. “She’s annoying, but she loves to tell people about herself. I’ve got it relatively easy.”

A genuine laugh escaped my throat.

“Yeah,” I said, following him as he turned away from the lockers and headed towards the sciences hall. “I’ve got my work cut out for me. If I want to actually get a passing grade, I mean.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Davud said as we pushed our way through the throng of students. “He dresses like Duckie from Pretty in Pink anyway.”

“Who?”

Davud groaned comically.

“Now I know you need more movie recommendations from me.”

“I’ll pass,” I said.

“Nah. You’ll still get recommendations,” Davud insisted. “Also, why didn’t you tell me you were performing in the spring recital?”