Island or Isaac?
    
The late bell rings just as I step through the doorway. Ms. Jacks looks at me with a sharp eye but eventually just gestures toward the back of the room where the only two open seats are. One of the desks is all alone. An island. But the other one is directly next to Isaac.
    
Every classroom has that one kid who’s either really shy, really weird, or just antisocial in general. Our class had Isaac, who seemed to be a mixture of the three. He never raised his hand, never smiled, and never talked to anyone. Instead, he just sat in the back of the classroom and completed his work quietly.
    
I walk silently to the back of the classroom until I stand right in between my two options. I take a step toward the island desk. I’m about to take another step forward, but my feet won’t move. Subtly, out of the corner of my eye, I watch Isaac. He looks as if he is paying no attention to this dilemma, but when I turn my head to look closer, I can see that his fingers are so tightly woven around his pencil that his knuckles are white.
    
Ms. Jacks coughs, blatantly suggesting I sit down quickly. I look at the island desk. So easy. I don’t need to be near anyone. I won’t be judged and there is no risk to be taken. But, when I look back at Isaac, pity fills my heart that I know will turn to guilt if I don’t do this.
    
Sighing slightly, I walk toward the empty desk next to Isaac’s and sit down, setting my binder beneath me. I hear a couple of my classmates gasp, and the others turn toward their friends and give them “the eye.”
    
I don’t care though. They can think what they want. I stop caring altogether when I see Isaac’s mouth turn upward into the smallest little smile. No one seems to notice, but I do. It makes it all worth it.