• There she sat at the back of the classroom avoiding all eye contact, quiet while everyone else sat whispering to fill the silence in-between the teacher’s pauses to catch her breath as she taught the unfathomable algebraic equations. Not a single student in the room even turned to glance at the girl, who was staring off into space, invisible to those around her. Everyone had become so accustomed to her taciturn disposition, that it was almost just another fact of life that was not questioned.

    Mel was her name. It was seldom heard or used, except for the occasional question asked by a teacher. She always responded with the correct answer, making it as brief as possible, even though her intelligence allowed her to go incredibly in depth if she had the desire. Her delicate, musical voice was reserved, but had she been an actress, she could easily bring anyone to tears. She did nothing of the sort, however; and she spent her mornings and nights burying her head into books, soaking up information. As the bell rang she picked up her books and was the first to exit the classroom, and the last to enter her next class.

    No one spoke to her. No one even knew her. She had no friends or even acquaintances. No one knew what she spent her time accomplishing during those few minutes of the passing period. The moment she was out those doors of her classroom she was not seen until moments before the late bell had rung, where she sat herself gracefully into her seat. Mel was a mystery to everyone. A mystery no one bothered to solve.

    What she, nor anyone else, did not know was that there was someone sitting in the back of the classroom watching her. Everyday he sat there, oblivious to everything and everyone but her. He watched her with curiosity, in her state so concrete and focused that it seemed as if she was in the midst of cogitation. She was so beautiful, with her delicate little ivory fingers resting in her lap, while everyone else around her struggled to keep up with the flood of information. He never said a word to her, for fear of imperiling his opportunity to gaze at her during class. So the years passed and things remained as they were.

    The bell rang, and Mel picked up her things, rushing out of class again, disappearing. When she arrived at her next class, moments before the bell rang as usual, she spotted a piece of paper on her desk. It was folded with much gentility into a perfectly aligned little square. She nestled herself into her seat, and proceeded in opening the note. The note was completely blank except for the faint vestige of fingerprints and five words. Someday you will be loved was written in neat black ink calligraphy. Her heartbeat sped up and her eyes widened. A moment later, regaining her composure, she folded the note back up and placed it into her folder pocket, her expression forming the same reserved look. The rest of the day went on as usual. The bell rang yet again, and she was gone.

    A week later, the note had been all but forgotten. It was hidden in the depths of her drawers but was taken out every night by Mel to read over just once, before closing her eyes and drifting off into her dreams. She wanted to know who the writer was. For once, she spent her nights wondering, dreaming, doing something other than reading through her books. Everyday in class, he still watched her from afar, taking in every expression, every breath, every movement, everything about her. Every night, Mel lay wondering.

    One day, as Mel left for her next class, he decided to follow her. She rushed out, and he followed close behind, zealous to find out what happened in those few minutes. Mel made her way to an unused door, hidden behind a pile of boxes. Her small frame easily fit through the space between the boxes and the door, and she was in before he knew it. With a bit of effort and his inveteracy, he pushed himself in as well. It was a dark empty room with nothing but a few boxes here and there. Mel was nowhere to be seen, not that much could be seen in the darkness anyways. He made his way in, and behind some more boxes was a crack of light; a door that led outside of the building. It was the only source of light in the entire room, and the only reason that anything was visible at all. So he opened the door, taking a step out into the sun.

    Standing a few feet away from the door was Mel, her back towards him. She was sitting down, knees hugged up against her body in a crestfallen manner. He approached her, when she spoke without turning around. “You followed me”, she said matter-of-factly, her voice hoarse and strained. Before answering, he walked over to her and sat down next to her. Without looking at her, he responded.

    “Yes, I did.” He turned to look at her. She was looking right at him, with those piercing golden eyes. Her eyelashes were sparkling in the sunlight, and her cheeks were stained with a single translucent tear. He was shocked to see that she was crying. He had never so much as seen a single emotion on her face but her focused, pensive one. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming want to know who she was.

    Who was Mel? No body knew. Not even Mel herself. The silence between them was deafening. Mel did not say a word, and turned her face away from him, gazing in front of her with the same reflective expression she always had. The bell rang and Mel was late, but she did not move. Mel was never late. She was always there without fail moments before it rang- but not today.

    A few more moments of silence passed, before Mel turned back to him. “Why?” was all she asked. He looked at her, and took her hand which was now laying against the grass, clenched and tense. He stood up and instinctively she did too. He was a head over her, so she looked up at him. He cautiously put his arms around her, and Mel tensed. She was not used to being held like this. She was not used to even being talked to by anyone but her teachers.

    He leaned his lips to her left ear, just enough to brush against it and whispered, “I once knew a girl. in the years of my youth, with eyes like the summer, all beauty and truth. In the morning I fled, left a note and it read, Someday you will be loved.”