Three
I think he had a little problem with authority or maybe he had a problem with me.
It was as though he hadnât heard a word Iâd said but his stone cold face said otherwise. He lifted his piercing gaze to glare at me and if looks could killâŚ
I was confused, he just seemed so familiar. It felt like I should know him. I wished I knew him. I wanted to get to know him. It didn't make sense. It was impossible to overlook and nearly as difficult to avoid getting lost completely in his strangely captivating and irrefutably significant eyes. That quality alone left no doubt that I actually hadnât met this guy before; there was no way I wouldnât remember coming face to face with someone beholding that level of magnificence in a single pair of eyes. Unable to control my curiosity, I studied his face intently with vigilant eyes. Something about him set him apart from all the other boys I'd seen. But I had no clue what.
Abruptly realizing that Iâd been sitting here staring at his precision for an unreasonable amount of time, I quickly averted my eyes, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I tried not to let him get to me as I tried to listen to Mrs. Wells. Itâd be over soon. Iâd steal glances at him through the curtain of my hair every now and again but he never once looked up from his Othello copy.
When the period was over he was the first to leave, as if he couldnât stand my sight any longer.
I sighed and watched as the room emptied and I shuffled to gym. This was the routine, for the next two hours until it was lunch time. I made my way to the empty library.
Benjamin - the only boy who seemed interested in some sort of friendship - had an extra cup of tea which he handed over. When he smiled a surfer blonde lock almost touched his upper lip and his eyes resembled melting dark chocolate. I smiled my thanks. Selma waved shyly and waited by the door. Ben and Selma were the âitâ couple, rarely apart. You couldnât hear Benjaminâs name without Selmaâs attached to it. They were my usual âcustomersâ and the closest thing I had to friends.
âThis is not your usual hang out spot.â I said.
She smiled and sat down her almost blonde white hair covering a fraction of her wild blue eyes.
âSeen the new kid yet?â Ben asked.
I sighed, âUnfortunately. Bradley's in my science and English class.â
I noticed a change in Selmaâs posture. She straightened the second I said his name. âHeâs British, lived with his aunt and older brother while their parents travelled.â
âReally,â I mumbled, vaguely paying attention. I had a mathâs equation to solve.
âWhat did he do?â Benjamin asked. I had to wonder how he knew that something happened between Bradley and me. Was Benjamin spying on me? He was a weird guy, after all.
I frowned and tried not to look at the blisters on my hand. There was more to Bradley and I intended to find out. âNothing I canât manage.â
âThe Carterâs,â Ben said, from his tone of voice I knew he didnât like them. âVictor â last I heard he married Rebecca.â His facial expression changed. âThey keep to themselves. I was still a kid when they left for London. Although I must wonder if Bradley still doesnât date.â He spat Bradleyâs name as though it was something disgusting.
âI donât get why they think the people from Margate arenât good enough for them,â he snorted. âBet they have lame British accents; probably faking them. They donât try to be civil with us. They never make conversation, only speak when spoken to.â
I smiled. âOr maybe theyâre misunderstood.â
âOh, and Christopher too,â I notice from the corner of my eye Selma tense.
âChristopher?â I asked.
âBradleyâs dad, his wife hardly ever leaves the house and you find him talking to her all day long over the phone. Iâve never seen her, no one has, and I have enough reason to think she doesnât even exist.â His expression changed when he spoke about the mysterious wife, it was unreadable. I had to wonder why.
He went on forever until the bell signalled lunch was over.
Benjamin and Selma said their goodbyes and I padded off to class. The final bell rang before I was out of the library, I packed some books under my arms and shouldered my backpack. When I rounded the corner I ran into a tall figure.
âIâm sorry,â I mumbled, picking up my books.
A manly voice cursed in a foreign language.
When I looked up, Bradley was glaring at me and by the time my eyes adjusted heâd poured the contents that were in the white plastic cup on my blouse. The coffee smelled metallic and created a somewhat reddish black stain on my blouse. I cringed.
My eyes were the size of saucers and I stood still for a second waiting for an apology that never came, instead I fell prey to his unwavering hostile glare. A cold chill stabbed through my spine if I didn't get out of there within a second his gaze would kill me, literally.
Embarrassed and angry I rushed to the bathroom and viciously tried to get the stain out but to no avail. I gave up and made my way to class. I was already fifteen minutes late. Bradley was leaning against the closed door. I stumbled, stopped, and picked up my pace. My steps trembling as I went.
âElizabeth White.â
I looked up, not sure he was really talking to me. I was at a loss for words.
âIâm Bradley Carter; I sat beside you in science,â A quiet, musical voice said. âIâm really sorry about earlier.â
âIt wasnât an accident,â I said. Heâd done it on purpose.
He waited.
âThis morning, when youâd touched me,â I showed him my hand. âThis happened.â
He stared challengingly at me, I stared back.
"Good luck convincing people thatâs actually how you got them,â He whispered darkly.
âI wasnât going to tell anyone.â
âWhy are you asking then?â
âCurious.â
âArenât you going to accept my apology and get it over with?â he mumbled angrily and opened the door.
I followed wordlessly behind him. He didnât offer the teacher an excuse or apology.
When I was about to talk, Mrs Jones held up her hand to silence me, âDetention after school.â
I glared at Bradley's back. If he wasn't so intimidating I would've given him a piece of my mind.
We had to sit together in the only two empty seats available through governance. I'd glare at him through my peripheral view and I could've sworn I saw him holding back a smile, his eyes studying my face.
My heart hastily crept to hyperventilation as his intoxicating scent overwhelmed me. When she dismissed us he lingered in his seat for a moment
âHowâs the hand?â
My nostrils flared. âI thought you didnât care.â
He shrugged and snickered. âI donât,â And then glided out the door.
I cursed at him internally. Why did he choose to hate me? No one paid me enough attention to care before him and now he seemed to have a problem with me. I was generally a good girl. I didn't bother anyone. What was it about me that got to him? Was it my ordinary looks? Was I too fat I reeked? Was it my shortness? Or my cheap clothes?