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It was official. I was in the tenth grade.
That meant absolutely nothing to me, except that I wasn't in the same grade as Eddie, which was a big disappointment, and I thought I was in the same grade as Eponine, which was a nice feeling. And that in itself was more complicated than I wanted to dwell on for very long, because I still couldn't really work out more than half of what I felt and how much of it was allowed or appropriate.
I wanted to stamp down on these feelings. Sal was dead and I didn't know what it meant to think about anyone else the way I had thought of her. Harder still, I didn't know what it meant that I was thinking of another boy the way I'd thought of her.
Rather than let myself dwell on any of that, I was forcing myself to think about school. It was starting in just a few weeks and now that I knew where I would officially be placed, there were things I had to buy. The school had given me a list when I was there earlier with a volunteer from the Children's Home and the man had offered to come with, but I had just shaken my head. I could do this on my own.
Then I realized I couldn't. I didn't know what some of the things were, what they meant. I didn't want to ask the people from the Home, and I felt too embarrassed to ask one of my friends who would be at school with me, and so I knew exactly who I had to ask.
I texted Elio, asking if he would meet me, then waited near the store for him with my list clutched in one fist. Maybe it was a little stupid, but it made me angry, not knowing what these items were. I knew the simple things, like pencils and pens, but I didn't know what a protractor was or loose leaf or a binder.
I hated not knowing things.
That meant absolutely nothing to me, except that I wasn't in the same grade as Eddie, which was a big disappointment, and I thought I was in the same grade as Eponine, which was a nice feeling. And that in itself was more complicated than I wanted to dwell on for very long, because I still couldn't really work out more than half of what I felt and how much of it was allowed or appropriate.
I wanted to stamp down on these feelings. Sal was dead and I didn't know what it meant to think about anyone else the way I had thought of her. Harder still, I didn't know what it meant that I was thinking of another boy the way I'd thought of her.
Rather than let myself dwell on any of that, I was forcing myself to think about school. It was starting in just a few weeks and now that I knew where I would officially be placed, there were things I had to buy. The school had given me a list when I was there earlier with a volunteer from the Children's Home and the man had offered to come with, but I had just shaken my head. I could do this on my own.
Then I realized I couldn't. I didn't know what some of the things were, what they meant. I didn't want to ask the people from the Home, and I felt too embarrassed to ask one of my friends who would be at school with me, and so I knew exactly who I had to ask.
I texted Elio, asking if he would meet me, then waited near the store for him with my list clutched in one fist. Maybe it was a little stupid, but it made me angry, not knowing what these items were. I knew the simple things, like pencils and pens, but I didn't know what a protractor was or loose leaf or a binder.
I hated not knowing things.