Coordinates

Walking through the school doors, I have found I haven't missed much at school at all. The jocks are still rallying over their latest win, the cheerleaders surrounding them. The nerds are all huddled together talking about last nights math homework.  In a corner by the stairs, as usual, are the stoners. Everyone is in their usual place here at Bluefork High School, and I, Archer Wilson, am the only one to not give a shit where I fit in. This attitude gives me looks and glances from the cliques all around the school most of the time.  I take the stares as a compliment. It's better people stare at you for not fitting in, rather than stare at you because they know what a mess you actually are.
     Sitting in the middle of the class is a blessing and a curse. One the one hand, you have an eyes view on everyone's tests so there is no need to study. On the other hand, the teacher always call on the students in the middle for answers to questions, so you have to pay attention. Also, sitting in the middle is torture due to the fact people notice whether you are in class or not.
  "Ahh, so I see you decided to return to class today Miss. Wilson.  What brilliant story have you for us this time?" Mr. Gordson asked.
At this moment in time, everyone's eyes have turned directly towards my seat in the middle of the room.
   "I was knitting blankets for the homeless. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to make just one. My brain was fried. Showing up to class wasn't even an option."
  "Now surely knitting blankets wouldn't exhaust one for two weeks!  Where were you really?"
My face was starting to blush with embarrassment. It wasn't that I was embarrassed, it's just that I could feel everyone staring and I felt like I was being accused of murder. My heart was thumping loud. I was sure everyone could hear it. Play it cool Archer, slow down.
  "The homeless are actually particularly picky when it comes to blankets. Who knew they didn't like the color red . I had to knit so many more, my fingers were raw.  I couldn't even pick up a pencil!"
  "Right. And your fingers are better now?" Mr. Gordson asked.
  "Much." 
  "Good, so you can start on a four page essay you missed due tomorrow."
  "Looking forward to it."
Everyone's heads went back to the front of the class. The rest of class, was absolute torture. It consisted of a long ass lecture, notes being passed around, and an endless amount of time staring at the clock.  I could not take being in that room any longer. While Mr. Gordson was about to finish telling us about his opinions on The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost, I had to get out of there. I grabbed my stuff off my desk and yanked my bookbag from the back of my chair. Thankfully, the bell rang right as I did this, so no one noticed.     
     The rest of the day consisted of people asking where I have been and the excuse that I was knitting blankets out of the goodness of my heart.  I couldn't tell anyone where I truly was. No one would understand.