360 Minutes
by Jennifer Haynes

I stood before the classroom door, pausing before I opened it. I always hated walking into this class, especially when I’m late. It draws so much attention. I can’t stand out here forever, though.

I took a deep breath and turned the knob. In the split second from the moment I started opening the door ‘til there was enough room for me to walk in, conversation stopped, or so it seemed. All eyes turned to the door to see who was entering, and the fact that I’m late makes it that much more interesting. And it’s ME. It couldn’t be anyone else except ME. What I wouldn’t give to be sitting already, avoiding those nasty stares. I wish I knew what I had done that was so wrong.

My desk is only a few steps away, but it’s a few steps too many. I walk quickly to my seat, sit down with my back to the class, still feeling the flaring eyes, and try to act busy. This offers no comfort, for conversation is still dead. I pull out a book and start reading, trying to ignore the awful feeling. A few faint whispers begin. Then, a whole conversation. And then, thank God, everyone starts talking again, as they had before I opened the door and disturbed them. The teacher walks in and says it’s time to start class. The first minute of my school day is done…only 359 left to go.

2/10/1998