Pam picked up the pencil carefully, her fingers anxiously waiting for the graphite tip to touch the paper. She gently drew a straight line, and her eyes sparked with joy, the line communicating what needed to be said. Her words were finding an alternative route to show her thoughts. She began to curve the pencil, her words creeping around the lock, sliding underneath the huge gate with the lost key. Her words sneakily seeped through the thin layer of opening of keeper of her words’ door in the form of a curve formed with the movement of her hand. Her lines were precise and tentative, her hand paralyzed at the sight of imperfections created via the pencil. As her pencil continued to convey her thoughts, the stapler the was itching to form on the paper. The lines curved and straightened, her fingers slowly relaxing with the flow. Her marks were dark and stiff on the paper, her fingers pressing the pencil firmly into the paper, lacking courage to lighten up the deep shade. The gray graphite filled the empty void once present on the paper. The metal chains once pulling on her words were replaced with a thinner yet sturdy, coarse ropes.

Jim looked at her approvingly, trying to make out what she was drawing. His smiler got bigger as the image she was drawing got clearer. The box that once isolated her, the box that was supposed to protect still held up strong. 

“Oh, that’s perfect Pam! I love it, you have real talent,” Jim commented. The glass box that confined her was tapped, making a crack in the glass. Someone finally understood her, took the time to see what she had in store. Someone was able to recognize what she had beyond the silence.

••

Jim wanted to put the plan into action as fast as possible. He grew with excitement as she carefully sketched the image. It created something that totally would have missed him, but was absolutely perfect for his prank. He enjoyed seeing her satisfaction at his understanding and her thoughtfulness put in each stroke of the pencil. 

Jim reviewed his thoughts before voicing them, “Ok, so how do we get it from him?”

Pam looked up with a slightly mischievous smile. Yet, her head seemed to reprimand her for it as it swiftly vanished.

Jim lifted up the notebook and tucked the top page underneath, revealing a new, white page. He scribbled the name of jello flavors, where Pam gently tapped “banana”. She gingerly pressed the crinkly paper and tipped her head towards Dwight, her red curls following. He followed her eyes to see the mustard colored shirt, which would perfectly match the banana jello.

“Good one, Beesly.” 

She smiled, tucking her shoulders up to her cheeks and pink appearing lightly. 

“It’s cool if I call you that, right?” 

She gave him a nod. She liked the nickname, especially since she knew he was the one calling her when she heard it. It was reassuring, to hear her name be called, but the pressure to speak being removed. 

“Alright, I’ll distract while you act,” Jim insisted, clearly feeling accomplished by his rhyming. Jim stood up swiftly and made his way towards the front right of the classroom. Pam sat frozen, her mind buzzing to linger back and remain a spectator. Jim looked to her and tilted his head towards Dwight’s prized stabler.  It was a matte grey staplers with well taken care of silver metal that withheld the staplers and pushed them into the paper. At Jim nudged to Dwight’s desk, Pam’s legs straightened as she lifted herself from the plastic seat in the back corner. 

“So… Dwight. What’s you favorite bear?” Jim asked.

“False,” Dwight answered.

“Wha-,” Jim stammered.

“I don’t have a favorite. So you asking me that question is false in regards to me answering it truthfully.”

“I’m starting to think you just like saying false.”

Pam could barely keep herself together while overhearing the conversation. Quiet was her forte, that wasn’t the hard part. She just didn’t want to be noticed, for Dwight to squeal and cause attention to her. She had managed to blend in her whole life, so she be able to now. Jim sensed her tentative walk to the desk. He immersed Dwight into a deeper discussion.

“Do bears eat beets?”

“That’s ridiculous-.” Dwight snorted.

Pam tuned them out as the sound of her heart beat took over the sounds of their voices. She stretched her hand onto the desk, lifted the stapler, and clasped it into her hands. She held onto it firmly, stretching her tiny hands hoping that is she stretched them enough it would cover the whole stapler, but she wasn’t in luck. She tiptoed to back to her seat, starting with the ball of the front of her foot then rolling onto her heel. After years of practice, her silent walk came into action. She stealthily stuffed the prized item into Jim’s backpack and flood gates of relief opened upon her as she melted into her chair. Jim caught sight of her and promptly concluded his conversation with Dwight. 

“Yes! Beesly, yes! Oh we make such a great team!” Jim’s face was beaming, the sun peaking through the window and adding a glitter to his eyes. Pam’s eyes conveyed a true, enthusiastic feeling. Her body and mind was buzzing, but with excitement instead of fear. Jim watched the anxiety sizzle, with the joy overwhelm it at a boil. She was still tense, but the tight point between her eyebrows was loosened and eyes looked less glazed with a high volume of fleeting thoughts.

Let’s be honest. The pranks were never meant for Jim.