"Four more days until spring break." You mutter to your car, Somber Kitty. He stares up at you and mews in response.
You couldn't wait to have a whole week away from school and everyone there that teased you. You were always being made fun of because of your wild imagination and not always being down to earth. There was more to life than going to school, doing chores and repeating the same boring routine everyday, you knew it.
"May! Hurry up or you're going to be late, darling." Your mother calls from down stairs.
You grunt and roll out of your bed. Throwing off your pajyamas, you shuffle to your closet and search for your school uniform: boring plaid skirt, white collared shirt, black cardigan. You hastily throw it on, grab your backpack and run down the stairs.
Your mom glares at you when you make it to the kitchen. "You're going to fall on your face if you keep running down the stairs like that." You apologize, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
She brushes her long, black hair out of her face and gives you a smile. "Be careful, May," she says, handing you your car keys.
"Of course, Mom," you say, grabbing the keys and walking out the door, "I love you."
The drive to school was uneventful, as well as the first two classes, until there was an important announcment.
"Listen up, class!" Sister Jacobs yells over the loud teenagers visting among themselves, bringing them to a hush, "We have a new student joining us today." She waves her hand to the hidden figure in the hallway. A tall, mischevious-looking boy stepped into the classroom, a playful smirk on his pale lips.
Sister Jacobs put a hand on his shoulder. "This is Lucius Éclat. He's from France." The class oohs. "Treat him nice. Lucius, you can sit where ever you'd like." She pats him on the back.
He scans the room for an empty seat, though there aren't many.
Please don't sit by me, you think to yourself, avoiding eye contact with him.
Of course, with your luck, he takes the seat right next to you, flashing you a smile. Heat crawls up to your cheeks and you quickly look away, burying your head in your hands.
The girls in the class oogle at him, batting their eyes and trying to strike a conversation with him, and the boys either scowl his way or also try to talk to him. He ignores all of them and continues to stare at you.
Sister Jacobs calls for the class's attention once again to start lecture. She drones on about statistics and its importance like she does everyday before teaching the lesson.
You tune out her lecture and drift off to think about what you and your mom might be doing for spring break. You two usually have a movie marathon, or sometimes you'll go on a road trip to the beach. Maybe you guys will get to go out of state this year...
"Psst." The hushed whisper comes from your right. You furrow your brows at the new boy, not wanting to get in trouble. He nods his head at your desk.
You look down and notice a note. You glare at him, opening the note cautiously.
What's your name? is written in very neat cursive.
This can't be real. Why would the new kid want to you know your name? Why would he even want to talk to you?
You hesitantly write in print May Bird and pass the note back when Sister Jacobs is writing on the board.
The two of you pass notes back and forth.
That's a cool name. Are you from here?
No. I live in Briery Swamp, the next town over.
Oh, cool. I'm living here in Hog Wallow. Can I sit with you at lunch?
You ask a lot of questions... but sure.
When he reads your last note, he smiles and tucks the paper in the pocket of his khaki pants.
Brrring!
"Don't forget to do your homework, and have a great day!" Sister Jacobs dismisses the class. Everyone storms out of the class, most likely to gossip about Lucius. You gather your books and stuff them in your backpack.
You feel someone poke your arm. "Hey, May." You turn to face the owner of the voice, Lucius, "Can you show me where my locker is?" He has a thick French accent.
You huff. "Why? Why do you want me to? Why are you even talking to me? Why don't you ask someone else? Why me?"
He stares at you blankly. "Because I don't want someone else to show me. You're clearly different than everyone else here, that's why I want you to."
You walk out of the classroom. "What's your number?"
"Fifty-six."
"What makes you think I'm different than everyone else?" You ask weakly, drifting toward the lockers.
He shrugs, "You just are. You don't look like anyone else here. You have a bold, artistic look. It's quite opulent and rare."
Again, you try to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Here," you stop in front of a locker, "this is your locker." You turn and bolted away before he could ask anything else.