I stretched my legs out in front of my desk, trying to relieve the anxiety I was feeling. It did nothing to help, and neither did the lecture my Physics teacher was giving. I resisted the urge to repeatedly click my pen, but I did nothing to curb the need to let my legs shake the anxiety out.

It took me a moment to realize the noise my squeaky, traitor desk was making. The teacher had stopped talking, and most of my classmates were looking at me. I stilled my legs, feeling my face get hot.

"Mr. Mitchell, if you feel the need to be disruptive, I may feel the need to send you to the office."

"Sorry, Ma'am," I said, looking down at my notebook. "It won't happen again."

After a moment of silence, she went back to her lecture, and the other students turned their attention back to her.

At the end of class, one of the girls grinned up at me. "Nice going, squeaky."

I made a face at the nickname, but she didn't catch it. She was already halfway down the hall. Oh, crap, I thought as I made my way to my locker. Please let her not have a crush on me. I have enough problems as it is.

I threw my books into my locker, pulling out the books for my next few classes before heading toward the cafeteria. Lunch was less appetizing than I'd hoped, but I had to eat something. After forcing myself to eat a hotdog covered in condiments, I threw away my fries and chugged the remnants of my chocolate milk.

I shouldered my bag and headed for the library to finish reading my English assignment in peace. Peace never came.

It was like… Gah, it was like getting ADHD overnight or something. I caught myself chewing the end of my pen four times, and staring off into space twice. Not to mention how many times I checked the time. It seriously felt like time was going slower just to spite me.

I glared at the clock in my Government class, knowing freedom was minutes away. The fidgets were getting worse, and I actually contemplated biting my nails to relieve the stress. I didn't really know what was that was making me wig out. Well, I had my suspicions when I caught myself sketching an eye in the margin of my notebook. I was more worried that there was a hunter after us than that I wasn't with Lela 24/7. Actually, that was a lie. The hunter was second on my list.

I was mindlessly copying down definitions when the bell (finally) rang. I quickly packed up and didn't bother visiting my locker before going home. I was so glad to be out of the school building, I almost laughed in relief.

The first thing I did was head off to the Whitmores' place. My parents weren't too worried since I told them about Lela; as long as I could tell them we weren't doing anything serious without looking guilty, they were fine with it.