My father was clear when he’d dropped me off at Ruthford Boarding School. We’d stood under the stone archway of the school’s entrance, my mother’s old suitcase in my hand. My dad held his inky black umbrella up, covering the both of us. Rain pelted the ground around us like arrows flying across a battlefield. He’d looked across the school grounds, his dark eyes narrowed, and lips hidden behind his thick black beard. I stared up at him, the car still running behind us. 

“No distractions, Nikolas,” he muttered. Then, he’d turned and walked back to the car. I stayed under the stone archway and watched the car peel away from the gates, my breath a misty white cloud in front of my face. Then, I’d set my shoulders straight and marched towards school. I let those words guide me over the next semester. Fuel me. It kept me focused on my goals, which I would not, under any circumstance, retire. Distractions could make you fail your classes and lose your scholarship. Distractions were a waste of valuable time. Distraction led to disappointment. 

By willpower and willpower alone, I quickly rose to the top of the class. I had the pride of my family pointed like a knife at my back, and the professor’s approval scrawled at the top of each page—a glittering, shining A. I studied and I worked and I didn’t care what the other students thought or did. They were a distraction. 

At least… I didn’t care until I met Penny Baker. The girl with reddish brown curls and freckles that splattered across her cheeks like the stars. She sat three rows back and to the right in my chemistry class.

“Now!” Professor Gray, a tall wiry man with a short grey beard and a penchant for meddling, clapped his hands, pulling me from my thoughts.  I sat up straight and focused my attention as he continued his lesson. “Add just a couple of drops of water.” 

I sat in the first row at a long wooden counter with a black laminated top. Piled on top of the desk were different vials and chemistry tools and to my right was a sink. I watched as Jack, my lab partner, followed Professor Gray’s instructions. He sat next to me on a tall wooden stool, spinning from side to side as he precariously dripped the water in. Jack had spikey brown hair, a sly grin, and seemed to hover wherever he stood—always moving, never still for a second. It was irritating, but mostly ignorable.

In technical terms, I had never met Penny Baker. Yes, we were classmates—and had been since I’d enrolled. However, the only conversation we’d had occurred three or so months ago, when she’d dropped her pencil and it had rolled all the way under my seat. She’d asked for it back and I’d given it to her without a word. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Jack was suddenly waving a hand in front of my face. 

I scowled and slapped it away. 

“Of course,” I huffed. I grabbed my pencil to jot down the formula Professor Gray had begun scrawling onto the whiteboard. 

“If you say so,” Jack grumbled and turned back to his own notes. 

So why then? I asked myself. Why did I find myself focused on the bounce of her curls and the sound of her laugh? Why did my breath hitch as she passed me in class, and my heart ache when her eyes never met mine? 

Perhaps it wasn’t so much that she distracted me, but that I admired her for her work ethic and character. Such as two weeks ago, when she’d stood up to Gregory, a brute of a teenage boy. He’d grabbed a fellow classmate’s notebook, holding it above her head, just out of reach. Penny had calmly walked up and demanded it back. Or perhaps I admired her for how she always stopped to pick up the trash left on the cafeteria floor. Or how she’d often study alone on Saturdays in the library whilst I read in the corner. Or—

“I’m pretty sure hearts aren’t part of the equation,” Jack whispered next to me. I looked down at my pencil and my gut dropped. I erased my error, hissing through my teeth. There was no denying it. Penny Baker was a distraction. One I would have to do away with—just like all the other distractions in my life. 

“Who knew you had feelings,” Jack snickered. “So, who ya thinking about?” 

“No one.” I rolled my eyes. “I am tired. Nothing more.” 

Jack leaned closer and grinned. “So, when you’re tired you draw hearts—” 

“Will you pay attention?” I snapped. Jack put his hands up in mock surrender and leaned away—the infuriating grin hid in the corners of his mouth. I huffed and turned back to class. “Forget about it, okay? It’s got nothing to do with you, so—” 

“Nikolas—” Professor Gray looked at me through his spectacles. “Pay attention, please.”

I sucked in a breath and sat up straight. “Yes, professor. I apologize. I’m focused.” 

He nodded and turned back to the whiteboard. I shot Jack a withering glare, and he looked pointedly down at his notes.

But then, I came to a rather distressing thought. How was I supposed to rid myself of this particular distraction? What more could I do? I already didn’t speak with her, and I couldn’t exactly transfer out of my classes.      

“Now, add a couple drops of the orange liquid in your beaker,” Professor Grey set down the chalk.      

Perhaps I had to find something entertaining to replace thoughts of Penny Baker?      

Professor Gray continued, “And you’ll mixture will come to life!” 

I frowned and grabbed a vial. But what would be more entertaining and, in essence, distracting than her?

“Nick—Hey, Nick—” Jack hissed. I narrowed my eyes. And now I had Jack to worry about, too. Honestly, this whole situation was one big—

“Nikolas—that isn’t the right vial—” 

In an instant, the relatively safe concoction in front of us bubbled and burst. The glass shattered. Hissing steam burst from the top, and the smell of burning hit my nose. Jack and I scrambled back—coughing and waving at the air. Someone was screaming from behind me, and I watched in abject horror as orange flames leapt into the air. 

Just as fast as the chaos erupted, the flames were doused, and the world was brought back to peace. Professor Grey took hold of the situation, fire extinguisher in hand.

“What happened?” Professor Gray asked. I coughed and took another step back. 

“Nick grabbed the wrong vial!” Jack snapped and I felt heat rise in the back of my neck.

“Nikolas?” Professor Gray tilted his head to the side. I could feel the entire class staring at me.  

“I-I don’t—” I took a breath and stared down at the charred metal and shattered glass on the table. 

“Please—go to my office,” Professor Grey set the fire extinguisher on the ground. “I’ll be there shortly. Everyone else: class dismissed!” 

The room around me fell silent. His office? I scowled and yanked my backpack off my chair and stormed towards the door. Father would be furious with me for this mistake. And all because of a stupid distraction!

“Guess even top of class can have a bad day,” I heard Gregory snicker from behind me. I let the door slam shut behind me, my nostrils flaring.

It didn’t take me long to make it to Professor Grey’s office. I let the large oak door shut behind me. I pressed my forehead against one of the cool stone walls and took a deep breath. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own.

I sighed and attempted to push the situation from my mind. I shoved away from the wall, turning to look at the office around me. The professor’s desk sat to the left, packed thick with a catastrophe of papers, books, and various pens. Old coffee mugs were stacked precariously on one corner. To my right was a stone fireplace framed by two large windows that looked out onto the school gardens. 

I walked towards the two couches set in front of the fireplace. They were plush and a golden yellow color. Odd choice for furniture, in my opinion. I frowned. 

Professor Gray’s office wasn’t a place I made a habit of visiting. For many students, this place was a second home. Professor Gray ended each class by letting us know if we had any questions, about school or not, his office was always available, day or night. Well, he ended that way when disaster didn’t strike, at least. 

I wasn’t a troubled student. I took pride in this fact. I rarely—if ever—needed assistance. Ever. 

“Well—” Professor Gray opened the door and stepped inside. I forced a neutral expression on my face and turned to him. I caught sight of Penny Baker’s curly brown hair as she and her friends walked past, on their way to their next class. The door closed and we were alone. “That was a chaotic class, wasn’t it?” 

“I was distracted, and for that, I apologize.” I looked at the wooden floors beneath me. My hands clasped tight behind my back. “It won’t happen again.” 

“No,” Professor Gray sighed and walked into the room. “I don’t suppose it will… Come, take a seat.” 

I pursed my lips together and followed him to the lush couch. I sat on the edge, my back straight, feet together. I prepared myself for a scolding, perhaps a bit of a lecture as well. Maybe, just maybe, this mistake would be enough to wrangle my distracted thoughts, once and for all. If Penny Baker hadn’t noticed me before, she certainly saw me now, and in a very poor light. 

“Tea?” Professor Gray asked. I blinked. He held out a cup, teapot in hand. When had that happened? I mentally gave myself a good slap across the face and held out my hand.

“Yes, thank you.” 

Perhaps tea was the answer to my problematic situation. Professor Grey nodded and poured himself a cup. I took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the peppermint flavor. Peppermint was Penny Baker’s favorite—she’d said so a couple of months ago as we’d entered the holiday season. Not to me of course, but to her friends as we’d made our way to class. Perhaps Penny Baker— My heart stopped as I realized I’d once again lost focus. Professor Gray sat opposite me on the matching couch, an amused glint in his eyes as he set down the teapot and grabbed a cup of his own. Calmly, he took a sip. 

I coughed and set my cup on the mahogany coffee table between us. No, tea was certainly not the answer. 

“So,” Professor Gray sat his cup down and leaned forward. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“I’m too unfocused. Like I said before, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen in class—” 

“No, no, I’m not talking about class, Nikolas.” Professor Gray held up a hand. “I’m talking about you. You’re distracted and seem quite troubled by that fact.” 

I swallowed and looked down at my shoes. Utterly disgraceful.

“Now, if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t force it out of you. But, sometimes, when we’re presented with a problem we don’t know how to handle…” Professor Gray shrugged. “It helps to speak it. Processes it, so to say. Get it out in the air so we can be free of it for a spell.” 

I pursed my lips. “I see…”

This was terrible news. Who on earth would I speak it to that wouldn’t immediately interfere with the issue? Certainly not the professor—admitting what I’d been struggling with would be far too mortifying an ordeal. Besides, I thought, he might try to convince me these feelings were ‘natural’ and ‘healthy’ and end up being of no help at all!

“Suppose one wasn’t ready to voice their thoughts” I glanced up from my shoes briefly. Professor Gray’s eyes were intently on my own. I shifted in my seat and looked away. “What would you suggest, then?” 

Professor Gray pursed his lips and leaned back. He tapped his chin as he thought. 

“Well,” he mused, “I suppose it would depend on the issue. If I had an issue with myself, I would journal. Try to write down my thoughts and feelings. If my issue had to do with another person, I’d write them a letter and then never send it. Just to air my grievances. If—” 

“And writing a letter, that would help?” I leaned forward. “That would get rid of—er, I mean, that would ease whatever…grievances you had?” 

The corner of Professor Gray’s lip twitched. He slowly nodded and crossed his arms. 

“I suppose, depending on what that grievance was, it could help, yes.” 

I stood. “Brilliant! Thank you for your advice, Professor. I’m sure it will prove to be most infallible.”

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. 

“Nikolas, wait—” Professor Gray pushed himself off the couch, then clasped his hands together. “Before you go, let me give you one last bit of advice. If writing a letter doesn’t work, please, don’t hesitate to come talk to me. I won’t judge you, whatever it is.” 

I nodded and suppressed the anxiety that clawed around in my stomach. 

“Yes, of course,” I said. Never in a million years, I thought. 

Professor Gray smiled and walked me towards the door. 

A letter, I thought as I marched down the hall and towards my next class. A letter will do nicely. 

It wasn’t until later that night that I was able to begin writing. I sat at my desk in my dorm, pencil in hand and blank paper in front of me. 

Penny Baker, 

You have become a distraction and I wish you away.

Yours truly, 

Nikolas Doxsin

I hid the paper inside my desk, turned off my light, and went straight to bed. 

The next day went about as well as one could expect. 

Relentless thoughts plagued my mind through breakfast and my morning classes. In chemistry, each giggle and whisper from three seats down and to the right sent a chill up my spine. Unfortunately for me, Penny Baker was not the only distraction I had to manage. 

I sat at my table in the corner of the cafeteria, alone. It was a large room, with white laminate tiles along the floor and large skylights in the ceiling to let in the natural sun. 

My stomach had knotted itself firmly, and any notion of putting food in my mouth had soured. Penny Baker sat across the room from me. She had a bow in her hair today. It was white and seemed to pull out the shine in her eyes. I cursed it and turned my attention back to my untouched pasta. 

“Sup, dude,” Jack approached and slammed his lunch tray down opposite me. “History was boring today, wasn’t it?” 

“What are you doing?” I asked. He glanced up, a look of such innocence displayed across his features that I just knew he had to be up to something. 

“Sitting with my friend during lunch.” He answered and took a bite of his food. “Lich’ ay’ wa’sh shayin—”  

“What?” I blanched. “We’re not friends—and chew your food!” 

He swallowed and grinned. “Of course we’re friends! We always sit next to each other in history and chemistry—oh, and I know you like someone, so—”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my cheeks flush. I grabbed my fork and held it under his chin, my eyes slit and teeth bared. 

“I do not!” I hissed. “Listen, I don’t know what made you think—” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jack laughed. He licked his fingers and then grabbed the prongs of my fork. I turned up my nose and scrubbed the fork with my napkin as he continued. “I won’t tell anyone. Bro code and all—but oh, hey! We have a very unbalanced friendship, don’t we?” 

“We’re not friends!” I insisted. 

“I know you like someone, but you don’t know anything about me!” Jack continued, undeterred. “Well, let’s fix that. I like Mary G. Have since I first seen her. I’m a terrible coward, though, so I’ll probably never work up the nerve to tell her. Still, one can hope.” 

I blinked. Why was he doing this? What did he have to gain? I shook my head. His actions didn’t make any sense! 

“Oh!” He suddenly clapped a hand on his face, eyes wide and mouth parted into a small ‘o’. “But how terrible, I’ve shifted the balance of our delicate friendship too far!” 

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head in disbelief.  He scooted forward, eyes glinting.

“You know the name of my crush, but I don’t know the name of yours!”

I glared. So, that was his game, eh?

I stood and grabbed my tray. Jack tilted his head to the side, like a golden retriever who knew precisely what he was doing but pretended otherwise. 

“Jack, mark this as the day I prove to you once and for all that we—” I motioned to him and then myself. “Are most certainly not friends.” 

“Oh?” Jack’s smile faltered. 

“Oh,” I confirmed with a malicious grin. I turned on my heel and marched directly over to Penny Baker’s table. Not once did I falter, though my heart hammered inside its cage. 

“Nick—” I heard Jack hiss. Then, a touch louder. “Nikolas—wait!” 

“Excuse me,” I bowed my head. Penny and her friends glanced up. I kept my attention on a girl with short, blonde hair. “You’re Mary G., correct?” 

I pointedly kept my eyes trained on my target—for surely if I were to meet Penny Baker’s eyes my plan would fail. 

“Uhm, yes, that’s me.” She glanced from me to Jack behind me. “Is everything alright?” 

“I believe Jack has something he wishes to tell you most urgently. Good day.” 

With one final smirk sent towards Jack—who, I noted with a sense of pride, had paled considerably—I marched away. I dumped my lunch in the trash and stormed out of the cafeteria. 

Unfortunately, the revenge against my foe did little to quiet the seething anger rampaging through my heart. I suppose it was this anger and frustration that led me to Professor Gray’s office door.  

I scowled. My arms crossed, my chest tight. Why was I even here? It didn’t make sense. I was angry—I knew I was angry. When I felt angry, I went to be alone until I cooled off. So, again, I asked myself, why was I here? 

Before I could turn myself away and pretend I’d never taken myself to this cursed place, the door opened. Professor Gray stood there, eyes wide. 

“Oh, Nikolas. How can I—” 

“Your stupid letter idea didn’t work!” I hissed before I gave myself a chance to think. I shut my eyes and let out a breath through my nose. There was no point asking myself why; I already knew. 

I, Nikolas Doxsin, was a troubled student. What my father would say if he could see me now…

“Why don’t you come inside?” Professor Gray stepped back and motioned for me to join him in his office. I took a breath, smoothed out my sweater vest, and followed him to the yellow couches. 

“So, tell me about this letter you wrote?” 

I sat rigid, my palms pressed together, and my eyes trained on the coffee table in front of me. 

“I wrote it, hid it, and it didn’t ease my distracted mind.” 

Professor Gray nodded solemnly. He leaned back, his hands folded under his chin.

“Hmm,” he tapped his chin. “I think I can guess what your problem may be.” 

I sucked in a breath. He knew. He knew about Penny Baker and my disgraceful attempts to forget her. Oh, how mortifying! Embarrassing! I would never—

“You didn’t write out your feelings much in your letter, did you?” 

Oh. I blinked and let the sudden panic that gripped my heart subside. 

“Why would my feelings matter in such a thing?” I asked. Professor Gray shook his head. 

“It has everything to do with such a thing! Your feelings are the reason why you’re distracted, no?” 

“No!” I shook my head. “I-I don’t have any feelings—” 

Professor Gray held up a hand. I snapped my mouth shut. 

“Nikolas,” He began again. “I don’t need you to be honest with me, who you’re writing the letter to or even why. I just want you to be honest with yourself. If you can’t even do that, well…” 

I leaned forward. “Well?” 

Professor Gray leveled me with a look. “Well, I would fear for your well-being! If you continue to lie to yourself, your relationships, your self-value, and even your grades could suffer!” 

My heart dropped, and my face paled. My grades?

“Just…here. Write the letter again, but only this time, be honest. Then, if that doesn’t work, come back again and we’ll talk more in-depth. Alright?” 

I shifted in my seat, an uncomfortable pit in my stomach. I swallowed and gave a silent nod.      

Hmm…be honest. I found myself pondering this statement later that night as I, once again, sat down at my desk in my dorm room, pencil in hand. 

Dear Penny Baker,

Wait, was it weird to have her last name in the letter? Did people do that? I huffed and crossed it out. 

Dear Penny,

No, now this was too informal. Too personal. Perhaps the full name was the right way to go about it after all. I frowned and tapped the eraser to my chin. But then again, what did any of it matter? She wasn’t going to read it. So why did I care so much about how I would be perceived?

The logical answer to that question was simple. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t think of what my family would think if they found it, or what Penny would think if she…if she ever… I dropped the pencil and covered my face with my arms. What a mortifying ordeal being honest had turned out to be. Wretched vulnerability, how I curse thee.

I took a breath and leaned back in my chair. I supposed there was only one way this was going to work. If I held back, even the slightest, as I wrote this, Professor Gray’s warning would surely come to pass. I had to do this. For my grades and honor! But mostly my grades. Slowly, I picked up the pencil and began writing once more. 

To the lovely Penny Baker, 

I nodded. Yes, that was good. 

I continued to write until the page was all but filled. I came to the end of the letter and hesitated. Would this really work? Or perhaps the simple act of acknowledging these distractions would lead to my doom. 

There was only one way to find out. With a sigh, I scrawled my signature on the bottom of the page. I leaned back and stretched. That was enough self-analyzing for one night. I opened the desk drawer and slid the letter and pencil safely inside.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that my question was answered. 

I flew through my morning classes, not a thought of Penny Baker to distract me. I was focused and intent; I felt like myself again!

Neither Jack and his incessant teasing nor Penny Baker and her flowery scent could deter me. By the time lunch rolled around, I was sure that any distractions were gone and done with, once and for all. The letter had worked wonders, and it was time to be rid of any evidence. 

I snuck away from the cafeteria and made my way to the dorms. Perhaps while I was there in the quiet, I could study or finish this week’s homework early. Or maybe I could take this time to treat myself and finish that novel I’d started. I set my backpack on the light brown desk that stood beneath the window. It was flanked by my bed on the right and a large mahogany bookshelf on the left.  I kept the space tidy, with not even a single spare string left unorganized. I opened the drawer in the desk and froze. 

Where was the letter?

I swallowed thickly. I shuffled through the papers and files deep in my desk, rifling through old homework assignments and spare papers. I looked in the corners, under the piles, and even rifled around the back of the drawer to make sure it hadn’t gotten stuck. Nothing. No letter to be found.

“Hey, okay, calm down now,” I whispered to myself. Horror as cold as ice gripped my throat and the room around me began to spin. It was late last night—it must have fallen on the ground behind the desk or under my chair. Maybe I’d even stuffed it under my bed and forgot.

I dropped to the ground and scrambled around the desk. No letter. I stood and ran a hand through my hair. My chest felt tight. Why was it so hard to breathe? Had the air in here been tainted? 

“Oh, hey, friend!” The voice behind me sent a punch of nausea into my stomach. I whirled around. Jack stood by the door. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, smirk in place. “Looking for something?” 

“You!” I hissed and marched forward. “What did you do?” 

He shrugged. “Oh, I’ve recently taken up an interest in mail delivery. You see—” 

I pushed past him and raced down the hall. I flew through the dorms, past the library, and into the shared lounge of the school. I came to a sudden halt, my eyes finding what I’d dreaded the most. 

There, on the couch just five feet away, surrounded by all her friends, was the source of my doom. 

Penny Baker and my letter. 

I stumbled backward and pressed myself against the hallway wall, hidden from view. I shut my eyes tight. No. This can’t be happening. He didn’t—my life, my reputation, my grades! 

“Read it aloud one more time!” I heard Mary G. giggle. 

“Okay—alright, alright,” Penny Baker huffed. “Only once more!” 

I bit my tongue and slid down the wall. There was nothing I could do but wait and listen. 

“To the lovely Penny Baker,” Penny read. “I must confess to you my feelings. It embarrasses me to do so, but I know I cannot hide this forever.”

I was going to die. I just knew it. My face inflamed, and my tongue so swollen in my mouth that I could barely breathe. They wouldn’t bother to bury me—I was too much of a disgrace for that honor.

“I adore you. Every laugh and every smile brightens my day. But while you are attractive in appearance, I find the quality of your morals and personality are of the greatest value of all.” 

She gave an embarrassed giggle as her friends ‘ooed’ and ‘aaahed’. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed, that this was a nightmare. 

“You inspire me to be better—do better—in all that I set out to accomplish. Your grace and kindness seem to be of second nature to you, and I admit it confuses me. What gives you the power to be so open and honest? It’s a quality I am jealous of. 

I write this to you to try and understand. I never thought there could be a girl as amazing as you in this world and yet, here we are…” 

She took a breath. I bit my knuckles. 

“Signed, yours truly,” she read. “Your secret admirer.” 

Wait—what? 

“That is so romantic!” Victoria squealed. “Who do you think it could be?! Jack?” 

“No,” Penny shook her head. “He told us it wasn’t him—besides, I’m pretty sure he likes you, Mary.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Mary G. giggled. “Maybe Gregory?” 

“Ew, gross, no!” Victoria shot back. “It better not be. Besides—look at the handwriting! The signature is totally different than the rest of the letter. Why do you think that is?” 

I slowly stood. Secret admirer? I slowly peaked around the corner and, for the first time in a while, looked directly at Penny Baker. While her friends around her chatted and theorized, she sat with a content smile sweeter than honey and a blush as red as a rose. She held the letter close to her heart, her eyes unfocused. I swallowed, took one last look at her dazzling face, and then left. 

She was happy. Happy that someone liked her—even if that someone could be me. I looked down at my feet while I walked back to the dorm. Jack hadn’t kept my name on the letter, and now Penny was happy… 

Perhaps, I pondered, Perhaps being a little bit distracted wasn’t as dangerous a thing as I’d made it out to be after all. 

Alli Prince

Alli Prince has been creating stories since she could form words and has been writing since long before she learned about sentence structure and grammar (her editors think she could still learn a thing or two about grammar). She’s been published to The Pearl and was the project manager for Lawless. Alli is currently attending a writing trade school called The Company. She is learning everything she can about writing, editing, and marketing. She hopes to use these skills to influence the world of Christian literature and bring glory to God’s name.