Chapter 3: Iris

I never liked partner projects, whether the teacher pairs us up or we select our own partners. An opportunity to work with our friends. Or in my case, students I don’t speak to at all, unless it’s for projects like these. Even if I was some weird girl that sits in the back of the room and keeps to herself, I prefer to work alone. It lessens possible arguments and disagreements. I get to do what I want, and there isn’t anyone to tell me otherwise.

When my literature studies teacher, Miss Hendricks, announces that we’ll be working on an in-class partner project for the next few weeks, I bury my head into my crossed arms on my desk. I guess the rest of the students in the class feel the same as an echo of groans leave their mouths. Good to know I’m not alone on this one.

“For this project, you and your partner will pick a book that we’ve read so far this year and create a poster,” she says. “I will be providing all of the materials, but you can bring art supplies from home if you would like. Now, I have already paired everyone in the class. There is an odd number of students here, so there will be a group of three.”

She starts listing off names, and I wait for mine to be called. As she does, students stand up to go find their partners. Somehow, I’m still able to hear her over students moving their desks around the room from where I sit in the back.

“Michaela Corey and Iris Blake. Alice Martin and…”

I lift my head up to find this Iris already walking over towards me.

Iris Blake is one of the best students in the class, reading a whole book before we, as a class, even finish the first few chapters. She’s an overachiever, a perfectionist. She raises her hand with every question Miss Hendricks shoots out, like a kid that is asked if they want a piece of candy. I’m pretty sure Miss Hendricks rarely calls on her now for that reason.

She grabs the desk that is closest to me and drags it over, positioning it in front of mine. “Hi. I’m Iris. You’re Michaela, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mika’s fine,” I tell her. “Do you have any books in mind?” I straighten myself and adjust my beanie. “I don’t really care which one we pick, but I was thinking maybe ‘Moby Dick’.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just really like whales. I was cheering for him the whole book.”

Iris laughs. “Not gonna lie here, I would say ‘yes’ to your idea for that reason alone, but… can I let you in on a little secret?” She leans forward over the desks, and whispers, “I didn’t read the book.”

“What? You’re kidding.” I rest my cheek against my palm, intrigued by her confession.

She shakes her head. “Are you kidding? That book is huge. I really don’t have the patience. I looked up detailed notes online. Plus, my mom read it while she was in college, so she told me a bit about it, too.”

Not so perfect after all, I guess. She may appear as such, but underneath is a bunch of tangled knots. I really shouldn’t have believed Mark from Chemistry. A**hole probably has a crush on her, views her as this ray of light. The sun burns. Did he ever think of that?

“So, what book did you want to do?” I ask.

She shifts her gaze up to the ceiling’s corner, thinking. “Hmm, maybe ‘The Odyssey’? What do you think?”

“Besides Mr. Whale Boy, ‘The Odyssey’ is my favorite. Let’s do that.”

“Okay. I’ll go get some paper so we can map out our poster.” Iris rises from her seat and weaves between desks to get paper from the front of the room.

***

We barely plan what our poster is going to look like before Miss Hendricks advises that we rearrange our desks back to how they were for the next class. Desks creak against the tile floors, loud enough to be heard by those in the classroom below us.

My desk having never been moved, I grab my bag and go, passing Iris who is talking with another girl in the class, probably a friend of hers. I’m sure she has a lot of friends. Personable, funny, kinda cute—

“Hey! Wait up!” Iris calls, jogging to catch up with me at the classroom’s door. Together, we leave.

“Is everything okay? You know, we still have a lot of time to finish the project, so you don’t have to worry about not getting much done today,” I say, holding on to my backpack’s straps.

“What? No.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me aside, out of the middle of the hallway. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Oh no.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. I enjoyed working on the project with you, and you seem really cool,” Iris continues.

“Iris, I—”

“Sorry. This is… weird.” She chuckles and looks down at the toe of her boots. “I would like to get to know you. Of course, that’s— that’s all up to you.”

Although it would be nice to get to know her, too, I can’t. Everything aches because I have to tell her “no”. It was so easy for everyone else that has asked me in the past, so why her? What’s so different about her?

I do love who I am, but I wish there were days where I could just live, be human. Have friends, be free, feel free. Instead, I’m contained, living in a jar that’s too small for me.

I exhale. “I’m sorry. I need to get to class.”

And just like that, I leave her awkwardly standing at the light blue lockers, alone.