The New Seat

I had no idea my life would change the day Mrs. Carter rearranged the classroom. It was just another Monday morning in sixth grade—gray sky, squeaky sneakers, and the smell of dry-erase markers. The only thing I was thinking about was how to avoid being picked to read aloud.

"Alright, class," Mrs. Carter said, her voice chipper in a way that made me suspicious. "New seating chart today. Let’s try something fresh!"

Groans rippled through the room like thunder. Everyone hated the seating chart change. It meant you'd probably be separated from your best friend and stuck next to someone who either picked their nose or never spoke a word.

When she pointed to the desk next to Jamie Miller and called my name, I froze.

Jamie.

He was quiet. Not weird-quiet, just… still. He never raised his hand, but he always knew the answer. He kept to himself, drawing tiny cartoons in the margins of his math worksheets. I had barely said more than two words to him all year.

I gathered my pencil case and lunchbox and shuffled over. As I sat, he looked up and gave me a polite nod. His dark hair fell into his eyes a little, and he brushed it away without a word.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hi," he said back.

That was it.

For the next few days, we didn't talk much. He’d pull out a book during free time or sketch in his notebook. I tried not to peek, but I did. Once, I saw he was drawing a raccoon wearing a cape and fighting a trash monster. I smiled, even though I wasn’t sure he noticed.

Then came Thursday.

Mrs. Carter announced our science fair project: create a working model of a simple machine.

"And you’ll be working in pairs," she added. "Seated pairs."

I turned to Jamie. His face didn’t change much, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“I guess we’re partners,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you want to build a catapult?”

I blinked. “A real one?”

He smiled—just a little. “A small one.”

That was the first time I saw it—that spark in his eyes. And it made my stomach flip in a weird but not-bad way.

We started meeting during recess to plan. He brought sketches and lists of materials. I brought snacks and colored pens. It wasn’t like talking to my friends—who gossiped and giggled and texted each other nonstop. With Jamie, it was quieter. Simpler. But not boring. He was funny when he wanted to be. Dry, sneaky-funny. The kind that made me laugh hours later.

One afternoon, as we sat cross-legged behind the library, he looked at me and asked, “Why did you say yes to working with me?”

I was surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “Most people think I’m weird.”

I blinked. “You’re not weird. You’re smart. And your raccoon drawings are cool.”

His eyes widened just a little, like I’d caught him off guard.

“You saw those?” he asked.

“Yeah. I like them.”

That was the first time I saw him really smile.

And for the first time, I started to think—maybe I liked him. Not just as a partner. Not just as a friend.

Maybe... something more.

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