First period was a surreal experience for Peter.  His attention at had been so focused on what was said that even as Mr. Browning had to explicitly snap everyone’s attention back to the front of the room as the students openly turned their backs on the instructor, whispering in low voices, as they gawked at Peter, that the boy hadn’t even seen enough to care.  And as it had happened half a dozen times over the course of the period, it was something of a godsend for the miniscule fifteen-year-old. 

Even as the bell rang out loudly in his ears, informing the students that they were to head to the next class, he didn’t stand up, and instead stared at the white board and all the year’s unit materials that Mr. Browning had displayed for the benefit of the class after the unofficial “make a friend” time had come to an end.  He was snapped out of this, though, not by the jostling wind of enormous students all making a mass exodus from the classroom and passing by his desk, but by Mr. Browning, who took a seat in the desk next to Peter after having shepherded most of the curious onlookers toward the door who wanted a better glimpse of the doll-sized student.

                “Hey, buddy,” said Mr. Browning cheerfully, catching the boy’s attention.

                “Hi, Mr. Browning!” said Peter with an optimistic grin.

                “They talked to me about you and everything, so I know what’s gotta happen in here.  I just wanted to know if…” continued the teacher.

                “Really, it’s all good.  As long as I can see the board, I can write down everything I need, and there won’t be a problem.  I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything.”

                “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” responded Mr. Browning.  “And… your sister is going to come and pick you up for your next class?”

                “Yeah, she should actually be…”

                “Hey, twerp, ready to get going?” asked Erica, slipping in the classroom door and powerwalking toward her brother’s desk.  “I have to get all the way back to the foreign language wing in a few minutes, so…”

                “Sure, sure, sorry,” said Peter, hastily gathering his supplies.

                “I wanted to make sure, quickly, though,” said Mr. Browning.  “I saw you chatting with those girls that sit behind you.  I… well, I don’t want to say you can’t handle yourself, but it did seem like…”

                “It’s fine, Mr. Browning,” said Peter as he obediently hopped into the soft, waiting palm of his older sister, which she had placed gently on the desktop next to him.  “I can take it.”

                “I’m sure you can, Peter.  I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” said Mr. Browning with a wave as Erica began half-running in the other direction for the door.

                “Where?” asked Erica with some snap in her voice.  “We have seriously got to move.”

                “Right, right… um…” drawled Peter, scrambling for his miniature schedule while trying to stay balanced against the fleshy wall of Erica’s fingers and thumb.  “Biology.  Room 58.  Mrs. Baker.”

                “Okay, okay, that’s not so bad… we can take a shortcut through the cafeteria,” said Erica with a shrug, taking a sharp turn in the hallway and causing Peter to sprawl outward in her palm.  She quickly closed her fingers around him like a cage to prevent losing him over the edge.  “Sorry about that…”

                “It’s all good,” laughed Peter, pulling himself back to a seated position by grasping at his sister’s gargantuan thumb.  There was silence for a few moments as Erica marched determinedly for the correct sect of the school.

                “Were you seriously talking to some girls?” asked Erica with an amused snort.

                “As a matter of fact, I was!” answered Peter with feigned pride, crossing his arms as if trying to preserve his dignity.  For a moment, he went off-balance, but Erica’s fingers were stilled curled inward for him to catch himself against.

                “Oh yeah?  What were their names?”

                “Uh… Sharon, Amy, and Kimmy.”

                “So which one did you ask out?”

                “Shut up,” snickered Peter, slapping his sister’s pinky finger playfully as he leaned back against the wall of fingers, crossing his legs and reclining.

                “Whatever you say, your royal highness,” she said with a serene shrug, flicking her fingers into his back and forcing him to stop leaning against them.  “Really.  I meant it.  My hand’s not your La-Z-Boy.”

                “Are we there yet?” groaned Peter.  “I think the bell’s going to ring in a couple minutes.”

                “What did you say?  58?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Right.  Okay, here we are,” said Erica, opening the door slowly and entering the biology lab.  The teacher Mrs. Baker was standing at the front of the room, scanning a clipboard, but her beady eyes shifted to Erica and the tiny human being perched in her palm as they entered.  Taking a few steps forward on her pudgy legs and ruffling her clearly artificially colored bright-red hair, Mrs. Baker pinched at the horn rim of her eyeglasses, squinting at Peter in momentary disbelief before settling down, tittering quietly to herself.

                “Yes, yes, they told me about you.  Peter, right?  Peter Clark?”

                “Yep!” chimed Peter proudly, sitting up on his haunches in his sister’s hand for a better look at the science lab.

                “You can go ahead and set him down at the first desk in the third row, honey,” she croaked calmly, indicating to Erica.  “We’re going by alphabetical order.”

                “Sure,” said Erica, jogging to the intended table.  Ignoring the new wave of google-eyed stares, hanging jawlines, and squeaking chairs as students leaned forward across their desks for a better view, Erica leaned down and allowed her brother to disembark onto the table.

                “Stay in those seats!” barked Mrs. Baker before anyone had a chance to slink out of their chairs and toward Peter’s desk.  “I’ve got a fresh stack of parent slips I’d love to hand out if I have to.” 

“Okay.  Be back for third period.  Gotta run,” Erica said with a quick wave as she darted back for the door.  As she slipped through, she passed another girl who was entering, and who slowly began ambling toward Peter’s desk, which had an unoccupied seat next to it.

                Instantly, he recognized her as the redheaded loner from his first period class.  Her head hung a little as she neared, the sheen of her pumpkin-toned locks seeming to capture all the ceiling light as it beamed down to her, her overly used sneakers shuffling against the tile uncaringly.  As she stopped in front of the desk, towering over Peter before taking a seat, their eyes met, and she blinked her swirling emerald eyes in surprise to realize that her assigned seat was next to his, her long, light eyelashes batting together in a struggle to stay composed.  Getting over it quickly, though, she brushed her fiery red hair out of her eyes, and quickly took a seat, almost seeming embarrassed to be standing up so high above the diminutive lad, although even when seated, she still had to look down at him to meet his eyes.  Peter grinned at her, but she turned her head away quickly, and the little freshman guessed she felt she had overstepped her boundaries by maintaining awkward eye contact with him for such an extended period.

                The bell rang for class to begin, breaking Peter’s unintended concentration on the girl who sat nervously next to him, her hands neatly crossed together on the tabletop.

                “Good, we can get started,” stated Mrs. Baker with annoyance, placing the clipboard on her desk and moving to the overhead projector.  “Welcome to Biology 1, period 2.  If you’re in the wrong place… go ahead and leave now.” 

No one could tell if it was a joke or not.  Peter shot another glance at the stoic girl next to him, watching as she calmly brushed another silky vermillion bang out of her eyes with her pointer and middle fingers.

                “As you can see…” continued Mrs. Baker loudly.  “I’ve placed a few of the tools we’ll be using in the lab this year on your tables.”  Peter eyed the implements.  There were a few beakers in varying sizes, the smallest of which were actually about as tall as Peter himself.  There were also some test tubes, a burner, some translucent disk-shaped dishes, and a few vials that seemed to contain liquids of some sort.  “You will need to be well-versed in your biology vocabulary.  All of it.  So, I want you to get out your books, and label these items on a piece of paper using your glossary.  I know it’s the first day of class, so I gave you an easy assignment.  You’re welcome.  Work with your lab partner, you’ll need to get to know them well; you’re stuck in these seats for the year.  Get to work, please.”

                Peter’s heart couldn’t help but flutter as he ignored the groans of the class while they fished for their books in their backpacks.

                The girl had already gotten out her own book, and was busily flipping through the pages for the glossary.  Peter took a few cautious steps forward, not wanting to make her nervous, despite his own equally uneasy feelings.  The sour alcoholic stench hanging in the air from the recently cleaned lab instruments made him feel a hint of wooziness, but he brushed this aside quickly, and cleared his throat.

                “Hi,” he said sheepishly.  The girl stopped flipping through the pages, turned her head to look down at him, and smiled sweetly, although her eyes seemed uncomfortable looking at him still, as if she felt bad for doing it.  For a moment, from the guiltiness of the glance he was getting, Peter felt like he was in a wheelchair, missing several limbs and wearing bandages.

                “Hi…” she repeated softly, speaking at roughly the same volume as Peter; the boy figured she was afraid to hurt his ears, having no prior experience speaking to someone so small.

                “I’m Peter.”

                “L-Lisa,” she responded uneasily, turning to face him a little more fully in her chair as she got comfortable looking down at him, grasping the plastic seatback with her right hand.  The effect still seemed to make her feel out of place, and she resorted to slouching down a little in her seat in an effort to get closer to being eye level with Peter, which the boy found to be an amusingly thoughtful gesture.

“You can look at me in the face, I won’t bite,” said Peter with a smile.  The tiny fifteen-year-old couldn’t bear to let her go on so awkwardly on his account, so he resorted to get it corrected immediately.

                “Oh.  Um, I…” stumbled Lisa, realizing how obvious she had been.  Nervously, she quickly brushed her red hair out of her face again and bit her lip.  “Sorry.  I’m just not used to…” she continued, but stopped herself.

                “…talking to somebody like me?” asked Peter with a reassuring grin.

                “No, no, I just…”

                “It’s okay, really, I get it all the time.”

                “I know,” said Lisa, sounding a bit dejected with herself.  “I just figured it must get… so old for you to have to hear people talk to you like this.  I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t be.  Actually, what I usually get is people… kind of not wanting to look at me in the face, like they’re embarrassed.  I mean, I guess I get it, but really, I just want to talk to people.  That’s all.”

                Lisa nodded knowingly, grimacing a little at her conversational misfortune.  “All right.  I can do that… Peter, right?” she asked, finally locking unblinking eyes with the little freshman, her soft lips curling steadily into a friendly smile.

                “Yes,” answered Peter with a bashful smirk as both were finally set at peace with one another.