My Five Senses

By: Shima And Tempis

Disclaimer: Jepta, Mikhail and Weeks School are not mine. They belong to friends. Everything else, at least in this chapter, belongs specifically to me.

Touch Taste Smell See Hear

See

Navi sat boredly in her spot near the front of the classroom, staring at the handsome man in front of her as if he was the plainest thing she had ever seen. Truthfully, she did not find her English teacher at all handsome. In fact, the man who was so obviously well-built in a million different ways did not appeal to her at all.

This fact tended to drive the rest of the female student population crazy.

It was not Navi's fault that she was one of the best writers in class, so special attention by the previously mentioned teacher was paid heavily to her during class. It was not, really, her fault that she was in this class at all. The police were all tight-wads around this city, and in order to keep Navi from being sent back to her mother, her friend Jepta became her legal guardian, which entailed sending Navi to school.

She would have rather been just about anywhere else than this classroom at 11:34 a.m.

Although, being in the back of the room would have been a little better.

After answering a question shot her way by the tall, dark and handsome specimen before her, Navi placed her chin in her palm and swivelled slightly so she could see the back of the room out of the corner of her eye.

He met her look with narrowed, cold eyes. She quickly turned to face the front, biting her lip, a habit she had yet to get rid of. Even his cold gaze was well worth the quick glance to take him in. Quick glances over the course of two weeks were soon becoming a whole picture in her talented mind, now that she knew what to look for. He had realized what she was doing early on, but that tended not to stop her when she had her mind set.

Mikhail Dimitri Nemerov was a much more delectable specimen to behold than Mr. Silverwood. Although she would never admit it out loud, Navi had been taken by Mikhail from the moment she met him--even after a friend of hers had pretty much punched his lights out. He had never really forgiven her for just standing there doing nothing.

"All right, and now to today's assignment." Few groaned in the classroom: Mr. Silverwood's assignments were usually open-ended and in general tremendously easy. "I don't give myself any credit for this one, but I'd like you to write in your journals about one of your senses in any way that you please. And yes, Kyle, that means you can just say "I hear well," if you want too. But use correct grammar, please."

Slipping her notebook out of her bag, Navi pulled one of her many pens out of her pocket, assorted and random because they were picked up off the street and in school hallways. She uncapped it, put the cap at the end, and bit bitterly onto the cap while she stared at a blank piece of paper. Write about one of her senses? What was this, kindergarten?

Ready to write a sarcastic interpretation of the assignment, she placed her pen gently on the page and tried to write the first sentence. Something in her head stopped her. She sighed, tapping the end of her pen impatiently on her desk. The students around her were all writing avidly, probably a bunch of nonsense and maybe even slightly dirty entries.

And then the idea hit her, and she began writing at a great speed.

When I look around me I see a variety of different things, all of which could be highly entertaining to write about, but my eyes generally don't pay attention to those sorts of things. In fact, I rarely look at them all. My eyes can even manage to glance over the fact that some of the females in this class pay quite a lot of attention to the front of the room, much more attention than in say, science, where a lovely but wrinkled old woman teaches.

No, instead, I like to look behind me as often as possible. I believe my eyes enjoy the challenge of taking in certain pieces of what I like to see at a time, never taking in the whole picture.

Today my eyes took in another pair of glistening orbs. They are a deep, dark, delectable chocolate swirled around the darkest pupils my eyes have ever witnessed. Those eyes are magnificent and ever-brooding. While most of the time narrowed in anger, those eyes that I've seen are absolutely gorgeous when laughter arises, the deep, real laughter that you can feel even in your fingertips. Those eyes are absolute perfection, and most likely will not fade with age or exhaustion.

I have previously taken in ink black, curly hair that falls down below ears and down a slender neck perfectly, not too long and not ridiculously short. Not long enough to be put up like a girl's, but short enough that you can run your fingers through those unruly curls. Usually that hair is matted down by a dirty, hand-me-down hat of light blue denim, always backwards, not even strategically so. During class, of course, the curls run freely about without containmnet, given the no-hat rule was originally created because of this individual.

Another previous sight endeavor allowed me to view the dark skin that did not come from any tan, as getting a tan in a gigantic city where the sun never shines is pretty much impossible. Instead, the dark skin that I see in special glances at neck and waist during stretches of boredom are evidence of foreign influence. Each feature covered in this skin is perfection, from nose to eyelids to ears to lips.

Lips. His lips. Those as of yet have not been discovered my ridiculously careful and descriptive sight. But maybe one day, possibly tomorrow, those lips will be underneath the scrutiny of my careful observation.

“Hand your notebooks in when you are finished, no exceptions. I saw everyone writing, whether it was the task at hand or not, and I will be reading it!” Navi looked up at her teacher, a little dazed, before looking back down at her paper. The idea of her teacher reading her assignment was not as scary as the idea that maybe he would read it out loud to the class.

She turned her eyes slowly toward the back of the room once more and for once was not met by a gaze at all. Instead she took in the form writing quite quickly over another page, staring down at his work as if it could write itself and just did not feel like it. A grin slowly spread onto Navi’s features and she turned to face the front once more and shut her notebook. Let him hear it, she thought wickedly, we’ll see what he does in the meantime.