SchoolI never know how many steps you should take, or how many seconds to count in your head, before you turn around to look at someone passing you by. The last thing you want to do is to turn at the same time and catch each other’s eye. You want to avoid that awkward pause, which seems to last an eternity, before you flick your eyes off to something else, a place so incongruous to the reason for turning around in the first place. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t turn around. I gazed from a distance. Stared from the security of a class back seat. Gawked behind a sandwich in the canteen.
Each day was an exercise in voyeurism, but that’s what being a hormonal teenager in school is all about, is it not? This was frustrating as well because I became all too (un)aware who was available and who
