It was fourth period. The dry-erase boards were out, and the memories had already flooded back.

Memories from sixth period class not a year ago, before the ages of Rocketman, Talking Heads, and Nicholas Cage had come upon us. The most particular image in that memory was an old friend of mine; Josh Murray. Havent seen him since summer. I heard he went to Calvary baptist. And considering the terms on which I have not spoken with him, they werent particularly enjoyable memories.

So the last thing I needed was Samantha shoving that goddamned phrase back into my conscious. The phrase in question originated from some poorly thought out field trip to a place that was somewhere near Old Salem. But thanks to the general air of stupidity that reigned then and still reigns now (though under different rulers), it became a surprisingly interesting white man's rap.

When I turned around to look for the person who was calling my name in fourth period, I knew it was Samantha. It took me a second to read what she had written, and not a half a second to realize what was also taking place. I should have known it before I turned around who else would be there, considering she sat not two rows away from the Samantha in question. But out of the corner of my eye, I perceived something I would have really rather not.

She was watching me.

I most certainly didnt turn to face her; the one thing I most wished to avoid in that situation was for her to REALIZE that I had acknoweldged her existance, and even more so that it was making me uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. In more response to the context of the phrase on the dry-erase board Samantha was holding, I began quickly shaking my head, and mumbled "You're sick." before turning around. I dont think she heard me.

The next time I turned around was because Samantha was calling me, again. Dammit, what now? She wasnt satisfied with my grunting. Samantha clearly wanted me to remember this, and she added two sentence to the dry erase board to assist me. "Poppa J?", and another more generic question.

Frustrated, I mouthed out the word 'Yes'. I would have waited to see her reaction, but the source of my discomfort had already begun turning around, and I feared that she might notice if I turned around in response to her turning.

Later that day, I sniffed rubber cement.