Driiin. Math class is over and the buzz of students rises in the classroom.
The ringing of that bell had succeeded in breaking the petrifying spell the teacher had cast at the beginning of class.

"I'm glad you listened to the lesson until the last minute. See you in two days at the same time." She grabs her bag and walks out of the classroom.

The math teacher is very good: she explains very well. Although it's bad to have class on the first day of school.

Lucas lets out a loud sigh and slumps in his chair. "The teacher is crazy. How can you have class on the first day of school!"

"In fact, I didn't expect it."

"Anyway, you did great! You answered no less than two questions."

"I don't study much, but I have a knack for math."

Lucas looks at me sideways: eyes half-closed, the right corner of his lips tense. "Are you sure you can play basketball?"

I slap him on the shoulder with the back of my hand. "Of course I can play. What's math got to do with it?" I smile.

"Exactly: what's math got to do with it? No self-respecting basketball player should be good at math."

"Who said that?"

"I'll tell you."

"Oh, that's it. And let me hear: are you good at math?"

"I suck, of course." He rests his hands behind the back of his head and rocks back in his chair.

"Oh, right. And you're last year's best defender..."

"Exactly." He continues to
rocking. "I see you're listening."

"Yes, of course, that makes sense." I slap my forehead. "I was stupid to ask."

Lucas stops rocking and leans forward. He rests one elbow on the desk and, with his other hand, grips the back of my chair. "We're going to play basketball later. Are you with us?"

I pick up the pen I have on my desk and start fiddling with it. "Are you sure you want to lose the scepter of best defender of the year?"

"Maybe, you don't get it. I just won't show you the basket." He laughs. I like his big face.

Lucas reaches up to my ear as if he wants to confide an unmentionable secret and looks around. "Have you seen Jasmine?"

That's what he wanted to talk about. "The girl with black hair and green eyes?"

He widens his eyes and dances his eyebrows up and down. A silly smile prints itself on his face. "What's she like?"

"She's a pretty girl."

Lucas's face returns to normal: his eyebrows stop dancing and his lips relax. I think he wanted a few more comments.

"She's a pretty girl..." The tone is displeased. He shakes his head and blurts out suddenly. "She's not a pretty girl." He looks around and two classmates were staring at him. He realizes and embeds his head in his neck. The voice becomes a huff. "She's the prettiest girl in school."

"You think so?"

"Are you sure you saw her?"

She is indeed beautiful, but I haven't seen all the girls in the school. If I tell him, he will kill me.

"Yes, I have seen her. I haven't talked to her yet, though."

Lucas flaps his hands and looks at the ceiling as if waiting for divine help from heaven. "What do you mean you haven't talked to her yet?"

"Usually, I also look at character..."

"Look." He puts a hand on my shoulder and seems to want to bring me to my senses. He articulates the words well. "I realized that character is important." Yes, it is. "But let's remember that we're talking about more than that here..."

"Yes, I know. I wanted to say..."

"Shhh. Don't aggravate your situation." He pats me on the back. "Here, we're talking about aesthetic judgment. She might even have the character of the decrepit old witch from Little Red Riding Hood..."

Little Red Riding Hood's witch? There doesn't seem to be a witch in Little Red Riding Hood. Perhaps, it is better not to point that out.

"She can also have the soul of one of those dictators in history that you like to study so much..."

I don't like history. I just have a knack for math.

"... But, now, we are interested in making a list of the prettiest girls in school." He interrupts himself and his voice becomes ironic. "Then if you want, we'll do another one where we average beauty and character."

I smile. "Look if you're averaging, you're doing math. Are you sure you can play basketball?"

He nudges me and settles back in his chair.

Come on. Better to agree with him. "Okay. So where do we start to make this list?"

He wraps his big arm around my shoulders. "That's good. Good question. We'll go around the school and find the girls who will be eligible, and honored, to be on our precious list."

I wonder if he would include Martha on the list. Why am I still thinking about her now?

Marc comes running into the classroom and catapults himself toward us. "Guys, you can't understand what happened." He gasps for breath and rests his hands on the desk. "You know that girl in third grade. The one who always has those old walkman headphones on her neck?"

He's talking about Martha.

"Yes, I met her today in Paul's car. Her name should be Mara."

Actually, Martha.

"Yes, good. I think her name was Mara."

I don't think it's another girl. Who else would wear old walkman headphones?

I swallow my saliva. "So? What happened?"

"I didn't quite understand. All I understood was that she was smoking in the bathroom, along with Jasmine and Nicole, and suddenly the attendant burst in and she smoked in his face."

"Wow!" Lucas gets even closer.

Strange. I don't know her well, but she doesn't seem like the kind of girl who would do something like that.

"It didn't end there! Then, they sent her to the principal and.... Guess what she did?"

Lucas interjects. "She cried?"

"Guess you?" Marc nods toward me.

"I don't know." I think about it for a second. "Did she have a cigarette with him?"

Lucas laughs and high-fives me.

"No, no. Brace yourselves... She put out a cigarette on his shoes."

Something doesn't sit right with me. "I mean, she lit another cigarette back in his office and then put it out on him?"

Marc ponders. "Okay, maybe this is bullshit."

"Me too."
I feel like it's one of those rumors that got blown out of proportion. Something must have happened, though. Better ask her as soon as I see her.

Anyway, how strange. I was thinking about Martha, and a moment later, Marc walks into the classroom and tells jibes about her.
It's all so curious.
I don't know why I am thinking about it, but I feel there is more than just coincidence. I feel a strange feeling.
I think fate wants to send me signals. Somehow, it wants to make our lives intertwine. I don't know for what purpose, but I will be here to find out.