Anna shuffled out of Chemistry class with a pile of books in one hand and a cold cappuccino in the other. It was nearly the end of the day; there would be only one more class period before she could head across town to the public library and finish off three pages of American Literature homework. Her glasses began slip to down the slope of her button-like nose. Because her hands were occupied, she hurried over to her best friend, Kristoff Bjorgman, who was retrieving his practice uniform for hockey training out of his over-stuffed locker.
"Once again, your glasses have descended," he nodded as he turned to notice her. He squatted down to match her height and then pushed a gentle finger up on her frames until they were properly balanced on her nose. "There. All better. Maybe if you'd gotten a pair of normal glasses and not those huge honkers, they'd fit properly."
"Shut up, dork," she smiled. "But thank you, Krissy."
He rolled his eyes at her, and then turned back to cramming his bag full of sweaty socks and underwear. "I thought I told you not to call me that."
She squirmed her mouth and watched him zip his things away. "Anyway, when will you be done with practice? Because I was thinking perhaps you could sneak a pizza into your hockey bag when we study at the library tonight. Food's not allowed, you know, but how do they expect us to blatantly starve in there?"
He glanced briefly into her eyes, a small glint of dread evident in his expression. "Sorry Anna, I can't go to the library tonight. I have a church program after practice... It's Wednesday, remember?"
"Ugh, Kristoff," she whined, stomping her petite foot. "We were supposed to work on the American Lit and lab homework together! You promised."
He shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder, slamming the locker shut with his foot. "Maybe next time. Not like you've ever had a problem with doing your homework, anyway," he added, winking apologetically. With Anna still disappointed, the two ventured down the hallway and upstairs to the last class of the day: Advanced Composition.
"Good afternoon," the class's instructor, Mr. Fork, greeted the pair as they entered the class. The tardy bell rang, and Kristoff and Anna shared a special "we barely made it" look.
Their usual desks were located in the back row of the room, right in front of a wall layered with bright, sunny windows that let in all of the wonderful sounds and smells of springtime. Anna, not paying much attention as she made her way past the staring eyeballs of other students, was taken off guard when the desk she normally occupied was... well, taken.
Kristoff had already plopped down at his desk and was taking out his notebook when he noticed Anna standing by her desk, confused. "Sit down," he whispered, looking hurriedly at Mr. Fork as he shut the door and made his way to the marker board for instruction.
"I can't," she replied nervously, looking for an empty chair. "Somebody else's backpack is already on my seat."
"Huh?" he blinked. "Everybody knows you sit there... and there's no other seats. It must be a new student or something."
"Is there a problem, Anna?" Mr. Fork asked. He peered at Anna from his stance at the marker board.
"Yes sir," she nodded. "I can't seem to find an available desk."
"Somebody stole her desk," Kristoff added blunty. The class giggled.
"She can have my seat, sir," a strong, husky voice silenced the class. As he stood up, his ginger hair gleamed, and Anna fought the urge to roll her eyes; it was Hans who was offering his seat. He was one of the best hockey players Arendelle High had seen in decades. He was wearing a dark-blue letterman jacket, swinging his arms, and he turned around with his prideful eyes and made a curled smile at Anna. "Hell, she can definitely have my seat, Fork."
The class giggled once again. It was well known throughout the school that Hans was perpetually trying to win Anna over. It wasn't because she was relatively popular or lusted after; she was pretty, but her beauty was hidden by her huge glasses and large sweaters. And although she had a steady circle of good, respectable friends who each made a 4.0 grade point average much like herself, her closest friend was Kristoff Bjorgman, a rival on the ice to Hans. So perhaps it was her hard-to-get aura that constantly surrounded her which pressed the ginger jock. Hans wanted Anna simply because he couldn't have her.
"I'd rather sit on the floor," Anna retorted, eyes narrowed blankly. Eyebrows raised across the room, and several "Oooh shit"s were exchanged.
Mr. Fork shook his head. "Students, let's act appropriately." He took a short pause and then looked back at Anna. "You might have to sit on the floor. There's a new student today and she's down at the academic counseling office, making changes to her schedule. She'll return shortly, I imagine."
"Is she hot?" Hans said, sitting back down and smiling at several of his friends.
"Not another word from you, Mr. Southerly."
Fifteen minutes passed. Anna sat on the floor with her legs criss-crossed. She was leaning over her notebook, making a journal entry, which was a significant part of her grade in the class. The words were beautifully written, making her mind go in states of fluvial wonder, into more treacherous states of dread and angst.
Lost inside the middle of a fleshy sentence, Anna almost missed the part of class where the new girl entered the room and took everyone's breath away.
The strawberry-blonde peered up from her notebook. She had heard the door open and close, followed by gasps and small, jaunty whispers. She figured the new girl probably looked like what Hans had asked: hot. Feeling shy, she pushed her glasses up to examine the mysterious figure who had taken her seat, but by the time her eyes were adjusted, the new girl was aleady sitting in the back row by Kristoff.
The first thing that caught Anna's eye was the thick, platinum-blonde hair that was braided and tossed across the new girl's shoulder. Anna had never seen such pretty blonde hair. And the new girl had seemed to enter the classroom and sit at her desk without making the slightest bit of sound, as if silent and floating, weightless. Her skin was pale. Anna noticed from the back of the new girl's neck that it was creamy and nearly translucent. And also, her legs, swinging dully under her chair, were thin like sticks.
She's got an amazing metabolism, Anna thought with an approving nod.
Her examination of the new girl came to a halt when, out of the blue, the girl's head flashed around.
The girl stared at Anna. The skin around her eyes was sunken in. Her cheekbones were hollow, and her lips were pressed together firmly, dry and pale. And that's when Anna caught sight of the girl's collarbone, how bony and razor-like it seemed to be.
The girl's blue eyes stared into Anna's own for the briefest second before flicking away. She then turned back to the front of the room and lowered herself deeper into her chair, hand twitching on the desk.
Anna understood with great clarity why everybody had gasped: this girl was a skeleton. Beautiful, but a goddamned skeleton.