The Watchers (Book 1: The Watchers Series)

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The Watchers (Book 1: The Watchers Series) Page 3

by Lynnie Purcell

Mark materialized at my side, so close our shoulders were touching. He noticed where I was looking in a glance. He excused the oddity of Daniel with a negligent hand wave. “Don’t mind him. He’s not used to losing, ’specially to a girl. I’m just glad he’s on our team…He’s the best quarterback we’ve had in years.”

  I jerked out of my fascinated state and focused on him, embarrassed he had caught me gaping after Daniel as if I had never seen a person before. We started walking toward the locker rooms.

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked.

  “Yep.” He popped his ‘p’ in a way I knew he thought cool. He grinned and I heard: She definitely doesn’t mind football players then, I just wonder if she’s into pretty boys. Of course, Daniel does get all the attention… “Where’d you learn to play?” he asked as we reached the door to the locker rooms.

  I pursed my lips at his thoughts, but answered as politely as I could. “I played for my school in Savannah.”

  “Cool. What class do you have next?”

  I had to focus around the distraction of the visions coming out of the boys’ locker room. Mostly-naked boys ran in front of my field of vision as they horsed off and changed with lots of macho banter. Before I could shut out the visions, I saw Daniel taking his things slowly out of his locker, not joining in with the conversation around him. “Uh…Algebra with McDonald.”

  “Me too. I’ll walk you there.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, aware he was being nice because he thought I was promiscuous. I needed the directions, though.

  In the dressing room, I changed slowly, trying to piece together an explanation for what I had seen, glad no one bothered me, though the whispers lingered. I knew a lot about strange things. I was a walking, talking, strange thing, but I had never heard of someone’s eyes turning completely black before. Beyond the shock at me beating him, that black stare was the second real emotion I’d seen on his face. It scared me. Despite how the others viewed him I knew, without knowing how I knew, that he was dangerous. But what kind of dangerous? My kind of dangerous?

  When I walked out to the gym, I found Mark – who was now wearing the letterman jacket I had imagined him in – waiting for me on the bleachers. Smiling, he took my bag without asking, which was annoying, and we walked out the metal doors. We passed by Mr. Popularity and his harem of girls just outside the door. They were hard to miss. They took up most of the walkway. Daniel smiled at Mark, giving him a brief high-five, but he didn’t look at me at all. I rolled my eyes at him, but I kept walking, leaving him to the attention of his adoring flock.

  Mark chattered at me the whole way to our next class, not noticing my distraction, not caring regardless; he was too busy trying to invent ways to get me interested in him. I let his voice wash over me without really listening to his words. Some things did leak through, despite my distraction, like that he was a native of King’s Cross, he played football – shocker – and his dad owned two of the three car lots in town.

  When we finally made it to class, he left my side, unaware of his less-than-there audience, and took his seat in the middle of the small room. Aware again of all the stares being thrown my way, I went to the teacher to get my slip signed.

  Mr. McDonald was nice. Preoccupied with the day’s lesson, he was still cordial as he signed my slip and handed me a textbook. He directed me to a seat, which, luckily, was in the back, away from Mark and all the staring faces. Mr. McDonald’s thoughts were the only ones not focused on my appearance; he didn’t even notice. He started talking to the class as I sat, his voice cutting off the various conversations around the room. He was good, throwing a lot of jokes into his lecture to keep his audience’s attention, knowing he would have even less focus than normal today. All the curious faces gradually melted away from me, and their thoughts turned to the lesson he was presenting. Laughter and his country-twanged voice echoed around the room, creating a constant state of noise and learning.

  Relaxing a bit as the thoughts shifted away from me, I settled into my seat and let his voice fade into the background. Daniel’s black eyes and puzzling ways floated through my head again. Why was he suddenly a mystery I wanted to solve? The classroom faded entirely as my eyes switched to the windows facing the forest that bordered the entire back of the school, the questions circling around my head in endless uncertainty.

  When the bell rang to signal the end of class, I jumped, having forgotten where I was. A girl with glasses and sharp eyes leaned over from her seat. She smiled shyly, as I gathered my things. “I’m Jane,” she introduced herself. I don’t get why everyone is making such a fuss. I bet she hates all this attention. I know I would.

  “Hi Jane.”

  “What do you have next?”

  I shook my head to get my brain working along school related lines. “Study Hall.”

  “Would you like me to walk you there?” she asked picking up her books.

  “That would be great.”

  I picked up my bag, and we walked out of the classroom together. As soon as we made it to the hallway, she asked, “Where are you from originally?”

  I answered her as best I could, thinking that despite the questions, these kids were some of the nicest I had encountered in all the schools I had been forced into. While a lot of the thoughts were judgmental and rude, many of them weren’t. It was as welcome as it was unexpected. Maybe, being here wouldn’t be as bad as my first morbid thought had proclaimed…Maybe.

  The rest of the morning quickly fell into a pattern of questions from people who couldn’t stop staring, wildly differing thoughts as to whether I was scary or cool, and someone inevitably offering to walk me to my next class. I was grateful for the walks between classes – they kept my nightmare from becoming a reality – but the stares and the thoughts were definitely not on my awesome list.

  Another boy, Davis, shared Spanish and Study Hall with me and walked with me between the two. He was quiet and nice; his thoughts less judgmental than most, yet somehow still impossibly full of stereotypes. At lunch, he offered to walk me to the cafeteria, an offer I accepted gratefully.

  When we entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to a large group of people sitting at a table in the very center of the room; something that was a result of planning. It was obvious the group was used to being noticed.

  I recognized Jennifer, Mark, and a few others from gym, as well as Alex, who seemed to be telling a joke to the group. I looked at them, uncertain if my new acquaintances would be so accommodating with sharing their lunch table as they were with their questions and their thoughts, also uncertain if I wanted the attention.

  In all my other schools, I had ended up hiding in stairwells and out-of-the-way nooks reading books to avoid the swell of thoughts such people-filled places caused. I felt my bag, making sure I had my book just in case. Davis led me to the lunch line without speaking, and I surveyed the rest of the cafeteria, noting again the differences between all my other schools.

  It was small, yet brightly lit, with the food and cash registers in the far corner of the room. The tables were round, with mismatched chairs squished in wherever there was room. It had a more cozy feeling than my last cafeteria. There, they’d had uncomfortable metallic swivel stools bolted onto long tables, I guess so no one could steal the stools. Here, stool stealing didn’t seem to be an issue.

  Alex caught my eye and waved as Davis and I threaded our way through the tables. Everyone else just stared. I waved back, wondering if she was trying to appear cool by waving at the dangerous new girl, or if she was just that nice. She got up from her crowded table and joined me as I got my food, her smile dimpling her cheeks. She greeted Davis warmly, and he smiled back shyly, instantly blushing. I piled food on a tray and paid.

  “How’s your day been so far?” she asked kindly.

  “First day-ish,” I said, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings, aware that many people were listening in.

  “I know what you mean,” she said understandingly. “Do you want to jo
in us?”

  Alex gestured at the large group she had been leading me toward. I looked at the tables, which had been shoved together to accommodate so many, and the thoughts assaulted me double time. I shifted uncomfortably, briefly enjoying the idea that I was invited, but not wanting the storm. I needed some peace; some time that was my own.

  “Um.”

  She glanced at me, and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She needs to be alone. Too much attention. But she doesn’t want to look rude. She turned to Davis. “I’m going to show Clare something. You can have my seat, okay?”

  “Cool,” Davis said, bobbing his head once, trying to hide his blush. He was centered in major crush town where she was concerned. It didn’t take my talent to see that. If Alex saw it, she hid it well.

  Alex led the way back to the hallway, past all the staring people, and to a squishy, padded bench down the hall. I sat down and propped my tray of food on my knees. “Thanks.”

  “I remember my first day here. It was sort of miserable.” I smiled in agreement and started in on my salad. “You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you?” Alex asked. “I noticed you totally bypassed the meat surprise.”

  I looked up at her to make sure I had heard her speak her thoughts aloud. It was a problem I’d been encountering lately. I had to be sure not to answer people’s thoughts by accident. She was looking at me expectantly.

  “Who wouldn’t bypass the meat surprise? It’s a surprise no one should have. But yes, I’ve been one since I was twelve.” The day Ellen told me the truth. “Why? Is that strange or something?”

  “For this area it is,” Alex admitted. “Everyone loves their meat. I’m one, too.”

  “Sweet.”

  “Did you want me to go back inside and give you a real minute of peace?” she asked.

  I shook my head as I swallowed my food. “Tell me more about Atlanta. I only drove through there a couple of times.”

  She smiled and started talking about her home city with the sort of remembered fondness I had for a dozen cities across the country. She was just getting into the stores where she used to shop when Mr. Popularity walked past on quiet feet, surprising me. I hadn’t noticed his presence, or felt any warning thought. We paused in our conversation automatically, my body freezing at the sight of him and the remembrance of his deadly-black eyes.

  He smiled warmly at Alex, and I sensed it was genuine. “Alex,” he greeted her. His eyes slid to me, crinkling with disdainful mockery. “You’re not making a pet out of the new girl are you?”

  I scowled at him, crunching my lettuce with more force than necessary. “Woof,” I said dryly.

  Alex laughed and made a face. “I know you have better manners than that, Daniel,” she scolded.

  I gave a skeptical laugh, which I tried to hide with a cough.

  He kept walking, tucking his hands into his pockets in a habitual gesture. His mocking smirk in response to my laughter as he disappeared down the hall was annoying. I stared at my salad, no longer hungry, and tried to figure out if I was annoyed with him or scared of him. Shouldn’t I be scared? And why was it so fun to be annoyed at him?

  She’s upset. I bet it’s because of this morning. “I heard about your tennis game this morning,” Alex said honestly as soon as he was out of sight.

  I sighed, having expected the gossip to spread quickly. “Did you?”

  “Yes, yes, I did. I wouldn’t worry about him. He has this reputation for never losing at sports. You know how men can be about that.”

  I laughed, agreeing with her explanation. But her explanation didn’t answer the question of how his eyes had flashed that eerie black color. People’s eyes didn’t just flash black over competitiveness. No one I knew, at least. I didn’t mention it to her, however; she might spread it around to the school, and for some reason, I didn’t want anyone to know about what had happened. Not yet. Not until I had answers.

  “Why wasn’t he in the lunchroom with the rest of the…” I trailed off not wanting to offend her.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Were you going for mindless sheep or brainless crowd?”

  I grinned…sheepishly. “Sheep. But I didn’t mean to-”

  “It’s fine.” They are mindless sheep for the most part. “He never eats in the cafeteria.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno. Maybe he doesn’t like cafeterias.” Her tone implied it wasn’t her business. Or mine.

  “Can’t blame him,” I replied.

  She went back to explaining Daniel’s behavior. “Daniel sometimes acts the way people think he should act, instead of the way he is. He plays the part. Jock…prep…whatever. I call him out on it…keeps him honest.” Her eyes sparkled with her smile. “I know why he does it, though. In a town this small, you learn how to keep people satisfied that they know everything there is to know about you and keep the bit of you that’s real to yourself.”

  “Yeah, it’s called lying,” I retorted before I thought about it.

  I turned to apologize, realizing that I kept sticking my foot in my mouth, but she was laughing. “You don’t really lie, I take it?” she asked.

  “A lie is a lie, but lying and keeping a secret are two different things,” I qualified a little uneasily, thinking my whole existence was a study in keeping a secret.

  “Exactly.”

  “So, are you two close? You seem to know a lot about him,” I said slowly.

  “You’re asking if we date.”

  “No.” I thought about it. “Yes.”

  She laughed again. “No, we don’t date. Daniel isn’t really my type.” She rolled her eyes. “I like quiet boys, and he talks too much. He’s also not easily caught. You have no idea how many girls cry themselves to sleep because he’s so inaccessible.”

  “I might,” I told her thinking of this morning and all the girls who were daydreaming about him in rather shocking ways. She gave me a funny look, and I added quickly, “Not for that reason.”

  “What reason, then?” she asked. Does she pick up on the way people act as well? I bet she does. She’s probably learned that people aren’t the way they dress.

  I looked at her, mildly impressed. “Jennifer and Michelle were having eye-sex with him in gym. It was hard not to notice.”

  She laughed again, my answer satisfying her. “The bell is about to ring. You want to put up your tray?”

  “Yes.”

  As I stood, I noticed a movement at the end of the hall, which disappeared as quickly as the time it took me to look again. I waited a moment, wanting to pinpoint the eavesdropper by their thoughts, indignant that we were being eavesdropped on, but the hall was completely silent, both in my head and externally. Our eavesdropper had fled the scene of the crime. I frowned, wondering who would eavesdrop on us. I pushed the weirdness away, figuring it to be an overzealous classmate.

  As I put up my tray, Alex asked me about my next class – literature – and I found we shared it. She offered to walk me there with more sincerity than Mark’s offer; she, at least, didn’t want something from me. I accepted happily, feeling odd that I had made an actual friend on my very first day of school.

  Admittedly, her thoughts weren’t typical. She was nice, not because she thought she could benefit from it, but because that was just her personality. She was popular for that very reason. I could sense the others respected her for her kindness and let her talk to them in ways they wouldn’t let anyone else. From fleeting impressions from Mark, Jennifer and Michelle, who stood to join us as we passed, I also knew Alex was funny and always had a joke or a smile.

  Look at her, already fitting in with the rest of the prideful degenerates. They don’t even know the danger they are in, yet they let her in without question. They will pay. They’ll all pay.

  I stopped walking, causing Mark to bump into me on our way out of the lunchroom. I ignored him and looked around for the owner of the thought, startled by the hatred in the voice; startled, too, because I’d heard that same voice last night, outside my house.
I listened hard, but the lunchroom was too full with the chattering masses for me to be able to pinpoint the owner. I shook my head and apologized to Mark, noticing that Jennifer was thinking I’d stopped on purpose to get him to feel me up. She wasn’t happy with the thought. Alex hooked her arm through mine again and led the way out of the room.

  Thanks to the curious people, who swarmed around me as I walked, Alex and I were the last two into our next class. Everyone else had already taken their seats and was chattering happily to their neighbors, in the usual pre-class roar of noise and excitement, as we entered.

  Alex released my arm with a smile and went to take her seat in the middle of the room. She immediately leaned over to her neighbor, a tiny boy with a bad complexion, and started talking to him. His eyes brightened noticeably when he saw her, and it was my turn to smile. I knew the boy looked forward to her talking to him more than anything else during the day. I also knew that she knew that and made a special point to talk to him every day.

  As I handed the mousy woman at the front of the room the slip to sign, my eyes traveled beyond Alex to search for an open seat. Secrets and images swirled around in my head in a poorly conceived dance of visuals and noise, making my head pulse with the beat. Whenever I accidently caught eyes with someone, their thoughts grew louder, then dimmed, as I moved on to find a seat that was unoccupied.

  I sighed in irritated acceptance when I saw Daniel, next to the only available desk at the back of the room, talking to a boy in front of him. Although he was smiling, I noticed him tapping one of his long pale fingers on the small desk he was crammed into. I took it to be a sign of impatience or irritation. Had he also come to the conclusion that I had no choice other than to sit next to him?

  The teacher introduced herself as Mrs. Heart as she handed me a large textbook with Marlowe’s face plastered on the front. Her thoughts were strong, but not obtrusively so. Poor dear, looks like she’s been manhandled by a hedgehog. Shouldn’t judge, though. She looks just like my cousin Jeanie… I really should call her. Haven’t talked to her in ages…

  I had to suppress the impulse to laugh at her description of my hair, liking her choice of words. They were unusual. I didn’t need any more stares, though…or anyone thinking I was a crazy person. It was my first day, after all.

  Book in hand, I walked down the aisle and steeled myself for whatever Daniel would say next, if he even talked to me at all. I marshaled my sarcasm and disdain just in case, feeling I would need it, and more, to deal with him.

  As I sat down, he peeked over at me and smirked again. I wondered what he was thinking and why he was smirking. That was an idea…What was he thinking? I concentrated, trying to hone in on his thoughts. It was difficult; I’d never gone looking for one person’s thoughts in particular before – typically people’s thoughts found me.

  As I concentrated, all the voices flooded in, the sheer volume threatening to overwhelm me. It was like listening to a waterfall of noise inside my head, without the benefit of a muffler. I shifted through the thoughts of homework, crushes, and a million other worries, but I didn’t hear any voices that sounded like his; not a single slither of thought that could be mistaken for his.

  I turned to look at him, knowing that if I looked at him I could find his thoughts easier. My leather jacket creaked with the agitated movement as I searched out his strange eyes. He was laughing softly at a joke the boy in front of him had just made, the laughter not quite reaching his eyes. The laugh was melodic and magical, but I still couldn’t hear his thoughts.

  The new girl is staring at Daniel. They all can’t get enough of him. I think he does the not dating thing on purpose just to drive them crazy. I wonder if that would help me…

  A vision of a massive score of nameless girls begging for attention surged into my brain, and I cringed. I shifted my gaze back to the front, recognizing the owner of the voice as the guy in front of Daniel. Would he point my staring out to Daniel? I shifted uncomfortably in the tiny desk.

  “You ever wonder why people do the things they do?”

  I looked back over, my head in my hand, and saw Daniel had his eyes trained on me. He had removed his letterman jacket, and his blue t-shirt stretched over his muscles in an obvious way. The boy in front of him had turned back around to look through his notebook for his homework.

  I looked Daniel straight in the eyes, one of my eyebrows arching at his question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I thought it was pretty obvious,” he said in a tone that doubted my intellect.

  “The question was obvious, but why you’re asking isn’t.”

  “You’re more concerned about the why in life then, not the actual act?”

  I decided to play along with wherever his thoughts were, curious despite my uncertainty. Maybe, I would learn more about him…even if the conversation was bizarre.

  “I guess I am more concerned with the why, yes. A good deed if done in the spirit of evil is still an evil deed. But, if a person does something with good intent, and that somehow turns into something bad, I would be willing to forgive them, because the why behind the act was good….I like to imagine all the possible whys before I leap to a conclusion. I think it helps me not judge too hastily when someone does something I don’t like. Now,” I raised an eyebrow at him, “will you tell me why you are asking?”

  He smiled and looked down at his hands. He had stopped tapping. “I was wondering where you stood, if you’d thought about it at all.”

  “That’s a peculiar way to initiate a conversation, don’t you think?”

  “Should I have started with the old, ‘if a tree fell in the forest,’ routine? Would that have been better?” he asked.

  I made a face at him. “Why you would ask a question like that at all is the puzzle, I think.”

  “Yes, why was the question.” His eyes danced with mine playfully. “Can’t a guy just be curious?”

  I gave him another mocking look, trying to follow his shifting moods.

  “Oh, I get it. A guy can’t be curious, or think about philosophical things, if he’s a football player. We’re too stupid.”

  I rolled my eyes at his assumption. I had been thinking more along the lines that people didn’t ask something like that unless they had an agenda. “Yep. You guys are too stupid, and live too much in the present, to be truly deep. All that beer chugging and grunting gets in the way.”

  “So, what, you think you’re deeper than me, because you look like you just stepped out of a Nine Inch Nails concert?”

  “I prefer Black Sabbath. And no, I think I’m deeper than you because I don’t expect people to kiss my ass.”

  He actually laughed; a real laugh. I could tell from the way it reached his eyes. “I don’t expect people to kiss my ass!”

  “Whether you expect it or not, they obviously do,” I replied.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I pointed to the girls looking at him with dreamboat eyes, my face sarcastic. He turned back to me, his face wry. “Point taken.” He appraised me for a moment. “You’re kind of contentious, aren’t you?”

  “No.” I sighed uncertainly, swiveling my head in my hand. “Maybe. Being contentious is better than being everyone else.”

  “True…I think.”

  I looked away from his strange eyes, wanting some relative clarity in order to think over our conversation. He had an easy-going familiarity I felt was partly an act, but partly not. I could tell he knew how to talk to people, to make them see what he wanted them to see, but I could also tell he thought about things seriously. It drew me out and reeled me in, fascinating me more than I was willing to admit. I had never met a stranger so capable of doing that to me. But what was real? The sarcasm or the side that thought seriously about things?

  Mrs. Heart started her lesson on Shakespeare then, on a play I had already studied, ending our conversation. My mind wandered as she lectured, and I glanced over at Daniel, wanting to look at his face, to puzzle out his my
stery, his questions, and was surprised to see that he was looking back at me. His head was in his hand, mirroring me, except that he was tapping impatiently on the desk again. As our eyes connected, he shifted his attention back to the front, but only after he had given me a look that was both mocking and smug.

  I frowned at the side of his face I could see, not able to follow his shifting and contradicting actions. One second he was angry because I had beat him at some stupid tennis game, the next he was asking philosophical questions and staring at me like he’d never seen a girl with Punk hair before.

  I focused again, trying to hear anything from him, even a thought of what he was going to have for dinner. I shifted through all the thoughts slowly, taking my time, so I wouldn’t miss anything, but still…nothing. Where was he?

  I scowled at Mrs. Heart as she started questioning the class, my confusion making me irritable. She called on me after a moment of questions, to get a feel for what I had learned in previous schools. Her face was expressionless, but I knew she wasn’t expecting much. I decided to go for dazzle, my irritation overriding my desire not to be noticed. It was dangerous like that.

  “Where did you learn that?” she asked in her squeaky voice, ignoring the whispers floating around the room.

  “I was in A.P. English at my old school, but this school didn’t have it…” I trailed off feeling like my whole day had been a study in not offending anyone.

  “Oh!” she said impressed. Another brainchild. I don’t remember Ellen being that intellectual. Fun at parties, maybe, but not super smart. I heard a mental sigh. I don’t know if I can handle having another genius in here. Of course, Daniel has an explanation…his parents are scientists. Maybe her father is smart? I know I’ll have to pair them together, if I want the others to learn anything, but that might cause problems…

  I looked over at Daniel, wondering if he had been as impressed by my answer as the others, but he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was focused on the desk he was tapping on. Irritated all over again that I was acting like a five year old over some boy I’d just met, I went back to looking out of the windows, gratified I’d taught the teacher not to pick on me anymore.

  I stared at the trees, which were swaying slightly with the wind, and kept up a constant fidget. I searched my emotions, wondering about the interest I had. Maybe, the fascination was because I hadn’t counted on my first day being like this. I had thought it would be awkward, perhaps a little depressing, but now it was suddenly interesting – not just because something about him rubbed me the wrong way, but because I wanted to unearth a little of his mystery. I wanted to know why he put on the show, why his eyes changed color, why he hid behind his popularity and his charm – I just wanted to know ‘why.’

  My questions had me focused on every move he made, every impatient adjustment in his chair. It was driving me crazy.

  The bell, when it rang, was a relief. Daniel seemed to agree with me. He stood fluidly and started talking to the boy in front of him as they walked out the door together. A strange part of me wanted to tell him about the jealous thoughts the boy was having, but I knew I was being silly. He wouldn’t care, and he’d probably freak out if I told him how I knew. That was a major thing I had promised Ellen. No one could know about my past, my mind reading, or any of the strange things. It was what kept us safe; it was what kept us hidden.

  Alex came over to where I sat unmoving. “What do you have next?”

  “Chorus,” I told her, shifting my eyes away from Daniel’s retreating back.

  “Me too. Come on, I’ll make sure you don’t get lost in the sheep.”

  “Baahhh!”

  She giggled and hooked her hand through my arm companionably as I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I noticed a certain someone staring at you in class.”

  “Was it the boy in the front row who looked like he’d been flunked a couple of times?” I asked.

  “Jerry? No, well, yes, but I meant Daniel.”

  I tried to keep my face expressionless, but she had already seen my interest. She smiled knowingly. “Yeah, he barely took his eyes off you.”

  “Wait, why were you staring?”

  “Because you think he’s cute, and I wanted to know if he thought the same.” Her thoughts were in total agreement with her words. Was I that obvious? Or was she just that observant?

  “Well, does he?” I asked, acknowledging how peculiar it was for me to have to rely on someone else to know what a person was thinking.

  “I can’t be certain yet. He just looked confused.”

  “He was probably trying to understand how I beat him at tennis.”

  “No, it was more than that.”

  “He probably wants to know where I get my eyeliner,” I joked.

  “Not Daniel,” she replied. “He’s not the eyeliner type.”

  My stomach dropped at the thought of her spreading our conversation to the school. I ardently did not want my very slim, miniscule, non-interest getting back to him. That would just give him leverage. I didn’t need someone having that kind of power on my first day. And I certainly could live without the teasing. But for some strange reason, I was convinced our conversation would remain private.

  At the chorus room, Alex left my side so I could talk to the teacher. She settled herself in with the other sopranos, her thoughts circling around ways to get Daniel and me together. I sighed as I handed the teacher the slip, hoping her ideas would remain in her head. I didn’t need any crazy shenanigans in my first week; particularly potentially embarrassing shenanigans.

  The last hour of class was torturous. The bell ringing was the second most beautiful sound I had heard all day. I gave Alex a brief excuse about having to turn in my paperwork, then fled the classroom as quickly as I could. Alex let me leave with a smile, her mind on the plans she had with Michelle, not minding my rushed escape.

  A cold wind played across my face as I walked out the large double doors, but it was refreshing after a long day indoors. It was better than the stagnate feeling of unanswered questions and an unwelcome spotlight. Feeling overwhelmed, and conflicted, I made my way through the sunny, cold afternoon with my jacket pulled tight against the wind.

  Chapter 4

 

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