Sperm---(… the teacher says to the class…)---are white for a reason.
Eventually, his eyes arrive in my direction.
(… when his eyes meet mine…,)
His expression reveals a vulnerable spot (…the admission that few or none ever meet his gaze…).
Maybe this is how he tests all the new kids…?
I look scientifically upon those seated around me. They seem representative of the fear he had expected from me.
My expression, however, is chiseled from marble. Unlike the others, I am capable of studying his definition.
The tension between us creates a vacuum that pulls Nature’s sounds into the room (… through the open window…).
In his weakening eyes, I notice a moment of recognition (… that his future will not always be as he thought…). The world of his upbringing---(suddenly too hot)---is poised precariously above a tub of cold water (… the promise of a plunge that will forge molecules like the regrouping of burnt skin…).
Knuckles rap gently on the translucent window of the classroom door.
With the glory of his moment lost, the teacher pretends importance in the direction of this distraction.
The classroom door rattles opened. The torso of the school principal leans in. Pardon the interruption, he says (… his eyes scanning the classroom for a particular student…).
When he finds me, he looks back over at the teacher. Can I borrow the new kid for a few minutes?
The teacher backs up, positioning himself on the edge of his desk. His gaze falls to his feet. Sure, he says.
My desk’s legs make a screeching sound on the tile floor as I stand up (… drawing the principal’s attention my way…).
The principal opens the door wider and steps into the room.
Our eyes lock (… my smile diminishing like the smoke of a burst bomb…).
The teacher looks at the principal as he speaks to him. I was just about to explain the reason why sperm are white.
The principal admits to a grin. His lips part (… as if he is about to speak…).
He answers the teacher: Good. We’ll get out of here---(… his hand motioning for me to follow…)---so you can continue explaining for the rest of the class....
I close the book on my desk, bundle it and my bag in my arms, and walk down the aisle. Past the last desk, I turn the corner (… thinking that it will likely take a long time for people at this school to grow accustomed to my prep-school posture…).
As I pass the teacher, he says, I wanna see you after class---(… winks…)---so I can repeat my explanation for you.
Without so much as a misstep, I stroll right past his gaze, but speak loudly enough that my words will trail over my shoulder. No need, sir. I already know plenty about sperm.
Here, I stop and turn (… to address him…). Sperm are white because they’re composed of molecules that reflect all wavelengths of light.
(… turning to address the class….)
Another interesting fact about sperm: they have no eyes, so they use heat to navigate a woman’s pathways.
(…facing the teacher again….)
So---(… in addition to being white…)---don’t forget to tell them that sperm are also blind.
My new teacher’s face is flushed (… set to refill with anger…).
The principal stands dumfounded as I open the door even wider and walk past him (… into the cool breeze flowing down the hallway…).