The Transfer Student

May I have your attention! the teacher said, raising her voice to be heard above the melee of the teenage voices. She waited for them to take their seats before she continued. I would like to introduce ye to our new student whos transferred here from the States, she beckoned me to step beside her. This is Denise an she comes to us from where is it dear? I cleared my throat, Minnesota. Aye, that is close to Canada is it no? she asked. Yes, I answered, smiling nervously. I turned and looked out into the room at all the new faces and my gaze fell onto one in particular; he had a shock of dark brown hair that was short in the back, but long and curly on top. His eyes slanted and he met my gaze, giving me a small amused smile and nodded. Miss Gardner? the teacher asked. I blushed; by allowing my attentions to be diverted, I completely missed what she said. Im sorry, did you ask me something? Several giggles accompanied this and the teacher smiled warmly. I was wondering if you have ever read Robert Burns poems, she said. No, I havent, I said, apologetically. Weel, ye are in for a treat and I do say so myself, she said, smiling as she handed me a book with a mans face on the cover and the words: the complete works of Robert Burns. I took the book and walked to the seat she pointed out next to the young man I had singled out earlier when I had been preoccupied. I felt my cheeks heat up as I sat down and kept my eyes facing forward; I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. I kept my hands clasped, one on top of the other, trying to keep them from fluttering nervously. My heart was pounding in my ears and I found it difficult to hear the teacher over the noise. After class was over, I stood and headed to the door; it was lunchtime and I had no idea where to go. I figured on following my fellow students in front of me when I felt a hand on my arm. Want me to show ye where the dining hall is? He had a deep voice for a teenager and I turned, I looked right at his chest. I glanced up and up he had to be over six feet tall and stared into the most beautiful pair of grey eyes I have ever seen; they were slanted and piercing as they regarded me silently, waiting for my answer. I sighed, relieved, yes, that would be nice. He smiled and I almost melted right there on the hallway floor, my name is Gerard, but my friends call me Gerry. I smiled back, nice to meet you, Gerry. He chuckled and held his hand out in front of him, shall we?

We walked behind a group of girls in front of us talking about their boyfriends and dates for this coming weekend; I was still nervous around Gerry, though I tried not to let it show. What brings ye to Scotland? he asked me. My dad is a history professor and has always been fascinated with Scotlands history, I started to explain. He went to his dean and requested to be sent to Glasgow University. He made us all get passports and then, when his transfer came in at the end of last year, he packed us all up and we flew here to find a house and get settled. What about you? he asked, looking down at me. Are ye interested in Scotlands history? I am. Its my Dads fault, too. He kept talking about the Jacobite rebellion of 1745 and was showing me all these pictures from the battle at Culloden, I said, smiling warmly when I recalled my forays into his study. I was an avid listener though, my sister hates anything to do with history actually, she hates anything to do with school. How auld is your sister? he asked, leading me into the dining hall and into the line behind another tall teenager, though not as tall as Gerry. Annies two years younger than I am, a tenth grader this year, I answered him. What is this? Herring, he said. Verra tasty. He grinned at me and handed me a tray; I took it and stepped in front of him in line. I picked up my utensils and watched as the lady placed a plate with herring covered in oatmeal breading and, what Gerry explained, was a potato scone. I grabbed a dish of fresh strawberries, a glass of Red Kola, which was a carbonated drink made with fruit extracts. He led the way to a table near the windows; it was a small table for two and I sat on one side with Gerry sitting opposite me. We ate and we talked; I told him about my life back in Minnesota and he told me about his life here in Scotland and the time he spent in Canada with his mother, older brother and sister. I enjoyed spending time with him and got up, reluctantly, when the bell rang for the next class. Gerry showed me to the biology teachers room before departing for his own class, he said he would meet me back here and would show me to the last class for the day: history, which we had together. I couldnt concentrate; I tried, I really did, but my mind kept wandering to the tall young man I met in my English class. He was so handsome and it was hard for me to believe that he really wanted to spend time with me. In my old school, none of the guys wanted to be around me; they buzzed around my younger sister like bees to a flower, but they completely ignored me. Im not attractive, but Im not unattractive either. I consider myself average: average looks, average height and average body size. There is nothing about me that stands out above other girls and I dont really try to accentuate my looks with make-up or dress the way the other girls dress when they want to catch a particular boys eye. Im just me, take it or leave it. And now heres a guy who went out of his way to befriend me and spent his lunch hour with me when he could have been with his friends or any of the pretty girls who wandered the halls. They noticed him that was obvious by the stares and the giggling behind their hands; they also stared at me, but with another look that questioned what he was doing with me instead when I wasnt pretty in any way. I forced myself to pay attention to the teacher when he started talking about the composition of the cells in the human body, sure that this would be on the test come next Monday; I took notes and wrote down the homework assignment for that night. When the bell rang, I picked up my

books and followed the students into the hall. I only had to wait three minutes for Gerry and he smiled when he spotted me. How was biology? he asked, good-naturedly. As boring as it was back in Minnesota, I said, yawning to make my point. He laughed, aye, an it gets worse. I widened my eyes in mock surprise, worse? How much worse can it be to sit and listen to him drone on like a robot? His eyes sparkled with humor as he led me to the history room, weel, history should be much better for ye. I sighed, I hope so, otherwise youll have to shock me awake at some point. He giggled. Yes, he actually giggled and I laughed with him as we took our seats next to each other.