Ben crumpled. The girl turned away from him, just like the cars in the problem, turning and speeding away from each other, Harry to Mark, all leaving Ben at home and never returning because his thick brain remembered one thing and that thing was once you left home you were gone. The teacher sat back down being relieved at the girl’s response and jealous that no one called her “so pretty” and made a small notation to mark down the girl’s grade for causing a disturbance. Ben glared at his useless left hand and talked directly to his pencil.
A scent caught his attention and he turned to his left. Ben winced as the vision of beauty glowed so brightly that his heart exploded in metaphors he didn’t understand. The teacher stood (because she was short and standing when students sat made her feel powerful) and waved a hand at him, but his eyes and heart and his whole area swole with insecurity and rage. Nothing this beautiful should exist, Ben thought. With his useless left hand, still holding the useless pencil, Ben pointed at the girl seated next to him. “So pretty,” he whispered.
“Fuck off,” she replied.