I immediately walked to my next class. The halls were bare and empty; the echo of my hurried footsteps filled the hale. Being with Mike was complicated. He was the ideal picture of a perfect boyfriend. He had honey blonde hair that was gelled to his perfection; his blue eyes were crisp. He exceeded in my parents expectations, when around company.
I don't mind Mike when he was alone. He was like me in a way. He puts up a charade for his parents, when inside he is a perverted druggie. My mom didn't care that he was overly sexually, since had once said, "If a guy comes to you and requested to pleasure you, you should take it while it last."
What my mom didn't know, is that half of these encounters were when he is drug up. I will admit that I join him on his drug expeditions. They let me run wild and ravaged. Mike wanted to go again tonight. However, sadly, we did have a ball to attend to. My mother's promotion party.
My footsteps finally came to halt outside of a classroom. I glance around the hall again before finally going in.
Mr. Kuga greeted me with a smile and a nod. Mr. Kuga was not your average teacher. His gelled spiked hair and white button shirt; his sleeves rolled up, with beige slacks made him look like more like a model than a teacher.
"Finished the poem?"
I smiled sheepishly, "Not quite, but I need you to revise a section for me." He crossed him arms and gave me a knowing look.
"You need to start working on you novel, if you want to keep this extra-credit instead of regular English."
I cringed. I hate regular English with all of the people who don't even know that William Shakespeare could be gay from his writings. They always overlooked the subject. Even the teacher, Mrs. Link was horrible and didn't even know the subject.
"I have started it, the first chapter." I said while walking to my seat in the back to put my bag down.
"Fine. Anyways, we have a new student joining our class. That means who ever it is will be seating next to you." He smirked.
"Do you even know who it is?" I asked. It had better not be some preppy cheerleader. When writing, I like silence and the sounds of the radio, not peppy girls.
"There is no name. But we will soon find out in one minute."
The bell rang signaling for students to go to their last class of the Wednesday afternoon. I waited patiently at my desk absorbed in Wuthering heights again, too nervous to see who will be coming in through the door.
"I thought you were an office helper?" said a smooth familiar voice. The velvet sound was coming from the seat next to me.
I looked up and met the topaz- annoying flints of green- eyes. They were soft and smoldered.
"Your in this class?" I exclaimed.
"So your friends don't know about this?" Edward asked. He raised a brow in my silence. I put my book down roughly and got up to walk over to Mr. Koga. He was shuffling a stack of papers that was all over his desk. He laid down the papers then looked up at me.
"You finish with the poem? Or do you need me to look over it?" he asked casually.
"Is there any way that he could be seated somewhere else?" I gritted. He gave me a puzzled look.
"Edward Mason?"
"Yes."
"Why? The period has just begun"
I let out a heavy sigh.
"He knows Lauren and Jessica and Mike." I flatly said. He didn't even look worried. Mr. Koga knows my secret and kept it well hidden for me.
"You guys can learn a lot from each other. This morning he was telling me-"
"Wait, you told me you didn't even know who he was!" I huffed.
Mr. Koga looked down at him papers and leaned on the desk. "Okay, I might have lied about that part. But, I think he can keep you secret as well as his own."
"He has a secret?" I questioned. He did not even look the kind of person that would have dead weight on his back. He looked normal and healthy. Mr. Koga gave me a "Get over it" look, which I was glad to return.
I dragged myself back to my seat uneasy. Even if he had a secret, he could be a hypocrite. He could think I was some liar, brownnosing girl that everyone should gossip about. I looked up from the floor to see him skimming through my book. Well the term skimming was an understatement since he was in the middle, his eyes in concentration.
Carefully, I sat down at my seat, brought out my laptop from my bag, and turned it on. I heard Edward turn the page. He sighed then put the book near my laptop. I didn't even acknowledge his actions, and open up a document.
"You don't seem to be the type of person to be into books and writing." Edward stated casually. I wanted to reply that he did not seem like the type of person that had a secret. Instead, I grabbed my book and stored it in my bag, then to find that Edward was reading my poem.
"Or this deep," he said taking his eyes of the screen. I didn't dare to look into his eyes but his nose.
"What is it to you?" I asked rather harsh. Edward didn't seem to mind but smiled. Again, I still looked at his nose.
"I think it's interesting."
So what, I am an animal in a zoo because I don't see like the kind of person that likes books and writing? That was a low blow.
I rolled my eyes and went back to my poem. Edward was silent but I could feel his eyes burn into me? Am I that interesting? I went over the entire document, frustrated. Not because of Edwards peanut gallery comments but because of my work. It feels unfinished, not how I pictured it.
I leaned back into the chair and bit my lip in habit.
"You make comical faces when you write." Edward commented. I clenched my teeth and click the print button. I got up to grab my poem from the printer and walk back up to Mr. Koga's desk still frustrated. He was in the middle of writing something and seemed utterly engrossed in it. His face was a mere two inches from the screen. Not wanting to disturb him, I set the poem down, but he noticed. He picked up the paper and looked over it while I stood there awkwardly.
One of my pet peeves was waiting for something, especially when I am waiting for a critique. It bother me when people tell me when something isn't right or when I worded something on purpose made no sense. I always wait for them to say that it is a piece of crap and I can do better. Which explain my thoroughness in checking my work.
"You okay?" Mr. Koga asked when he finally looked up from my paper.
I shrugged, "Yeah, just usually anxious when you're checking over my work." He set the paper down and folded his hands.
"No, I mean your writing a poem on how you feel in deep detail that is beyond emotion."
I frown, "It's just a poem."
"…I'm conscious of everything around me
Except myself
My mind was outside of my body, free
I could hear everything
See everything
Feel everything
Except myself
Everything is played
With my head
Everything racing
My body incoherent
Doing everything mechanically
I am not here
I am there
In another world
Inside my contorted mind…, that has to mean something to your or you wouldn't have written it that way." He said, he had a concern look on his face.
"It's just words okay. I have been out of it lately." I said. It wasn't a lie or the truth. I have been thinking so much lately that my mind usually wanders to vivid places.
Mr. Koga gave me a long meaningful stare before putting my paper into my file for safekeeping. Again, I dragged myself to my chair. There was an hour and a half left of class, which was good enough to get some rest.
I was so tired that I didn't even care that Edward was looking at my laptop. Why bother anyway when he is going to find out eventually. Mr. Koga probably informed him of my blunt ways.
Therefore, I laid my head on my arms to watch Edward read several documents. I was interesting seeing him reading them. His nostrils would flare from time to time; his eyes would go wide then sad occasionally. He was so immerse with my work that he didn't even start on his work.
"What do you write about?" I found myself asking him.
His eyes were still glued to the screen, "Anything, I guess. Just depends on my mood. Usually my works aren't as good as this." At his complement, I blushed.
Why am I blushing anyways? Countless people in my class had comment on my work but I never reacted this way. It is shameful to react this way to a guy that is a complete stranger to me.
"What exactly are you reading?" I asked. I tried to be casually, but it seemed bitter. His eyes tore away from the screen and looked at me (still going to look at the nose).
"The Poison Apple. I am impressed by the imagery. Your friends should think very highly of you." He said. He sounded sincere.
"Does it matter what they think?" I whispered. It wasn't meant for him to hear but he did.
"They don't even seem like your friends. Why do you hang out with them, Isabella?" he murmured.
"Bella," I corrected automatically. I didn't answer him. If he knew the reason why then it would lead to even more questions.
I guess he sensed the tension, and move on to another topic, "You love Wuthering Heights?" he asked. He closed the laptop and set it to the side.
"One of my favorite. It is interesting the way Emily Bronte explain certain things." The words came out easily and calm as if I was talking to Mr. Koga.
"My mother made me reading when I was nine. She said that I should read English literature while I have the time on my hands." He smiled. His eyes were bright, and happy.
"Why did you move here then?" I asked. At that, his happiness became stiff and calm. His eyes were distant, and hallow, ask if remembering a bad memory.
"I'm sorry, I I shouldn't have brought it up." I stammered ashamed. It was obvious that the memory pained him.
Oddly, he smiled, "No worries. I was sent here to live with my Aunt. My, er… cousin passed away."
"I'm sorry"
"Don't be."
My disgraceful blush came back, in which I packed my laptop waiting for my blush to die down. The effect he had on me was embarrassing, especially since for one he could expose of this and two, my boyfriend. I never blushed when Mike gives me a compliment, I just roll my eyes. However, for Edward, on the first day meeting could make disgrace myself within less than a class period what completely absurd.
So why do I like it?
The rest of the class period, our casual conversation continued. He asked most of the questions like my favorite band, song, flower, and color, whatever you could think of. He never asked anything personal, but I could see the toiling in his eyes to ask those questions.
Before long, the bell rang. I was finishing telling him about my dream care when all of the sudden he became serious.
"Do you have a ride?" His voice was smooth and stern.
"No," I said sheepishly, remembering the words that Mike said. He was true to his word about these things, but never worried about me being stuck in the rain.
Edward was messing with is bag straps, his eyes were dancing around. Hesitantly, he said, "Would you like me to give you a ride?"
My face fell. I would like to accept his offer. But, how would it look. I always felt shallow when I think of how things would look if I did something not normal for me. People would think that I was hooking up behind Mike's back. If Mike found out then he would tell my parents, which would get my mom involved. She would scold me on how stupid I am for letting myself be seen in public with someone that doesn't have a high social status. But Edward has sat at our table, making him rank at the top like Mike. And it's not as if I can't have male friends who can drive me home. Therefore, it shouldn't matter if I did accept his offer.
"Sure," I said, there is no turning back now.
