I looked discreetly at the boy, eyeing his thoughtful smile, the type you give when you're confident but experiencing something new, his amazingly different topaz eyes, and blindingly white skin. His face seemed to be somewhat good-looking, like when you graze your eyes over a hallway full of people and you just look around without really focusing on a certain face. But now that I analyzed his seemingly normal features, I gasped. Loud. People in all directions turned around, their eyes excavating the room for a distraction from the deadly English paper being delivered by a classmate. I looked straight ahead, feigning an interest for the poems of Franz Wright. Unable to discover anything remotely interesting, everyone wistfully looked toward the front of the room, desperately looking out of the corner of their eyes for any sign of movement from behind them. The normal and seemingly boring new boy looked down at his paper, his long lashes covering his stunning eyes. He wore a navy blue collared shirt, long sleeve, though it was a sunny day. I gasped because right when I stared at him face for more than a second, I noticed his face more closely. He was…breathtaking. I couldn't move my eyes, as though my eyes were a magnet and only pointed toward him. He had angled cheekbones and sculpted lips of a roman god. Finally, when I tore away and was now silently breathing through my nose, I felt my back shiver, as though someone were looking at me.
I characteristically started to breathe unevenly, while staring at my twisting hands. I was so sure it was the gorgeous youth I had been staring at just seconds before. I casually looked over my shoulder, to ask Alee what she had done for her report right behind me. While my eyes turned toward her desk, and I twisted around, I looked up to see if I was right. For a division of a second, my eyes connected with his. My mouth opened in awe at the sight of his exquisite face. I stopped breathing, barely surviving from collapsing in the middle of the room. I looked down at Alee's desk and the historical evidence etched in it, from declarations of love from couples, to the typical and oh so hackneyed "Mallory was here, in 1987" messages, informing uninterested people of obscure facts about the former occupants who had sat at the desk. I had seen so much in those eyes…an inexplicable pain, an uncontrollable desire.
He was still gazing at me or probably through me. I felt I was going through an x-ray machine. I consciously put my left arm on the top of my chair, casually covering half my face. I peeked at him. He blinked and tore his gaze away from me when I placed my left elbow on the chair.
"What?!" I turned to look at Alee, who was trying to whisper as loud as she could to get my attention without screaming at the top of her lungs and giving to people around us something to busy themselves with, which had nothing to do with Franz Wright, Marissa's droning voice, and ceiling tiles.
"I asked, how's your report?" I replied. She looked at me strangely.
"It's about Lewis Carroll, and pathetically boring." She looked at me, again with a look of worry.
"Which you should very well know, seeing as you were the one you helped me on it." She said slowly, looking as though she were trying to figure out something.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"I'm fine, Alee, just wanted to see how you did the report. I mean, how did you write it? Here's mine, and let's read each other's till it's our turn." I said, saving myself pathetically.
What was the guy's name? He came in to class like the rest of us, and was introduced, but I didn't catch his name. Mr. Wheeler told him to sit in the back, one row beside me and two seats behind mine. I stole another glance over my arm, which was still propped up so that (as far as I could tell) he couldn't see. I pretended to hold my paper up and looked sideways off the edge. He seemed to be in pain. His expression was of revolt. He looked in my direction again and glared. I cowered under his look. It was full of hate and revulsion. Yet I couldn't look away, like before. I felt and entranced and sick at the same time. I turned around; telling Alee her essay was great, and not really listening to her comment on my essay. I kept my head down the whole time.
Basically, this is not like me. I'm a very open person. At least I have been one since the beginning of this summer. I could feel my horribly familiar feelings of nauseating, embarrassment, and weakness returning just because of some boy. A quite good-looking one too, at that…Ugh! I shouldn't think like this. He didn't even like me. I shuddered as I remembered his look of distaste. No, not of distaste. His look had been of abhorrence and odium. Even so, I relaxed, getting drowsy from the nervous lull of a classmate's voice. I felt someone looking at me from another direction and curiously looked up. A blond Reminiscing the last time I met eyes with made me cringe and shut my own. Even with them shut, I could see his face, all hateful and wide-eyed. He still looked beautiful. I sighed at the image, wondering how someone looking so angry could look exceedingly gorgeous. Then, I heard someone cough. I frowned in at the disturbance, eyes still closed. That someone coughed again in annoyance. I opened my eyes, ready to pounce on the person who had interrupted my picturesque image.
Everyone was staring at me like I had forgotten to wear my shirt. Or, more simply, and less dramatically, not gotten up to recite my paper when Mr. Wheeler called my name repetitively for over a minute. Giving myself the mercy of blushing, I stood up from my desk, smoothing my skirt with one hand and holding the English paper in the other. My feet refused all my requests to move. I would have to crawl.
"We don't have time to stare at you. Though I know some people in this class who do have time for that sort of thing." Mr. Wheeler commented dryly. I felt embarrassment, and soon after, blood rushing to my face. Some of the class even sniggered to my surprise. I couldn't blame them; they were bored.
"You're usually very composed and collected. What's wrong?" he said, this time with a little more concern. The last thing I needed was sympathy. I preferred the cracks. I didn't want to show the boy I was intimidated. Nor did I want to deliver to the class a soap opera instead of an essay.
"I'm fine. Just really tired" It came out sounding okay. Except for the fact that my voice was an octave higher. I steadily walked toward the front of the room. I could feel everyone's eyes on my back. But only one pair of the twenty-three made my hands shake as I turned around to face them, keeping my eyes on the front of the room. I took a breath and read my paper. The more I read it, the calmer I felt. I started remembering how I had a life, and this insignificant boy had taken me from reality to my past life, with one look. What had I done to irritate or offend him? Stare? Maybe I would have to explain the term "hormones" to him.
I forgot the boy and read the report, pausing to explain how the prose of Mr. Poe was, how he viewed life every couple sentences and then started on his life history. At the end I was relieved and comforted by the fact that there was no pair of topaz eyes staring at me. I took a swift peek. And almost died. He was looking out the window, chair tilted slightly back with a type of elegance that I felt he alone could achieve. Everyone clapped politely, and I sat down. "Well, I'll have to admit, I was a bit afraid for a moment that you would faint from embarrassment, but I shouldn't bring that up right now. You did great! Just like I told you!" Alee exclaimed. I smiled at her accent, loving the lilting voice of hers. Alee Bridges was of British background and just moved here two years ago, in 8th grade. Back then, I was meek and too shy to talk to the new girl, who seemed quite withdrawn herself. Her dark brown hair and wide light green eyes that roved around the room made it seemed so. But about two minutes after class, she came up to me, sticking her hand in front of her, saying, "Hello. The name's Alee. What's yours?" From that moment, we became classroom buddies and sat next to each other in lunch. She was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
"Hey, I couldn't help but notice how troubled you looked when you asked about my paper. Mind, you haven't looked that anxious about an English assignment this early on in the year. What's wrong?" Alee commented, looking at me with caring eyes.
I hesitated, and noticed the teacher looking in the direction of Alee's carrying voice. I said out of the corner of my mouth, "Nothing."
Alee's eyes were still pleading. "Oh please! I know there's something wrong. And then when you were petrified about going up to read your report… Samara, tell me."
"Unless you want us in detention the first day, keep it down. Tell you later."
A couple more papers were read out loud, and the bell rang. With that, I picked up my bag exited the room with Alee down the perplexing hallways of the high school.
When we got to our next class, AP World History, we sat down next to each other, as usual. We were the first ones there. We talked about the summer, Alee supplying the conversation for her as well as me. How convenient. At least that's what I thought until... "Hey, Samara! Isn't that the new boy from our English class? Edward, I think his name was."