The bell rang, sounding muffled and distant in our hideaway. With a sigh I picked up my bag and carefully removed the orange peels from the desk, brushing them into a paper bag. Trowa already stood beside me, bag hefted on shoulder, smiling slightly as I brushed at nonexistent orange crumbs.
"I don't think anyone would notice a stray crumb," he remarked quietly, still smirking at me. I wrinkled my nose, and stuck out my tongue. It was childish action, but cute, and I was gratified by the quiet rumble of laughter from my companion. I turned and tripped out, glancing back over my shoulder as he followed at a more sedate pace, carefully shutting the door behind us.
Wufei was waiting for us outside the door of our skipped History class. He was glaring at us, black eyebrows drawn into a thick knot. I could almost see the vein in his forehead pulsing as we strolled towards him. Smiling cheerily all the while, I waved and crossed my eyes as we approached, throwing him every goofy look I could think of. True to form, his face darkened, black eyes flashing with irritation.
"Chang."
"Barton."
The boys nodded at each other as Wufei fell in step beside us, still glowering. From the corner of my eye, I could see Trowa's amused expression. Fighting to cover my giggles, I turned to our fuming friend.
"How was history Wufei?" I asked brightly, throwing him my toothiest smile. He grimaced in reply, and his face, if possible, turned redder.
"Injustice! Onna! You! It's–," he spluttered before turning to Trowa. "And you! From her – but I expected more honor from you! Abetting her in her wickedness!" he spat out venomously.
"Yes, well, we evil women have a way of leading men astray," I sighed innocently, fingering a lock of my hair. A hefty snort was my only response.
"Wufei, I depend on you to counteract her deceptive forces," Trowa said evenly. I don't know how he managed to keep his voice steady, or maintain that contrite look on his face. Unable to control myself, I burst out laughing.
"Oh, very funny indeed. Don't expect me to lend such ignoble people my lecture notes," he snapped, descending to his normal state of general agitation. Trowa smirked and peeled off down the opposite hallway, leaving Wufei and I on our walk to chemistry. He was still silent; shooting me annoyed sideways glances and muttering under his breath.
"Wufei, this is just one of those things you need to get over. It's not like it's a rare occurrence," I said. A heavy sigh was all the response I would receive, but I knew he had forgiven my transgression. And I knew he would lend me his notes, while he condescendingly recounted the lecture details for me.
The fall of freshman year, I spent hours searching for the perfect place to study. The beach at the end of our street, while peaceful enough, was no place to do homework. Sand kept lodging in the bookbindings, and my papers always ended up a blown across the strand by a stiff breeze. At home it was quiet, but it was the oppressive, wistful silence of a lonely house. Studying with Heero was just like studying alone, but with Duo the homework never got done. However, there was one place I could go to study alone, but not feel lonely.
The graveyard was a riot of color in the fall. Massive oak and maple trees were beginning to change, bursting into flames of red and yellow and orange. The willows and the grass were still green, though slightly faded. I loitered on the path, passing beneath rows of graven angels and saints as I slowly made my way towards my favorite tree.
It was a towering maple, off in the center of one of the grassy lanes. Lines of granite graves, worn and weathered, ran along both edges of the grass avenue. With reverential silence I treaded the grass, creeping quietly up on the base of the tree. I laid a small wildflower on one of the graves. Perhaps it was just my superstitious nature, but the oppressive air of watching seemed to dissipate.
My books around me, I fell to studying, busily absorbed in my notes and homework. Time flew by without my notice, and the sun began to creep towards the horizon. The buzz of insects, the song of the birds was assimilated into the background, tuned out. Nor did I realize when I shifted position, moving from sitting cross-legged to lying on my stomach.
Suddenly, though, I became aware of being watched. The hairs on my neck were prickling, and a wave of cold ran down my body. Frozen to the spot, I feared to turn and see who was there, while trying to assure myself I was imagining things. Finally, scolding myself for silliness, I steeled my nerves and flipped around.
As soon as I had looked I sprang up form the ground, shifting backwards nervously. A Chinese boy, about my age, had been standing quietly behind me, arms folded across his chest. He did not move, didn't even blink as I reacted.
"Why are you watching me?" I asked petulantly, my voice ringing in the silence. No response was offered.
"Why are you here?" I tried, mentally working to calm myself.
"That is no business of yours. This is not your graveyard," he said evenly, still staring unblinking at me. I walked a bit closer, my courage trickling back.
"You were watching me. That is my business. Why?" I asked calmly.
"You put flowers on my sister's grave," he said strongly. I turned to look at the grave I had visited earlier, had graced with flowers as I had every time I came. Zhen Chang, barely five years old when she passed.
"I'm sorry. I…" I broke off, unable to explain.
"Zhen died with dignity. The honor you have conferred is well given," was all he said, still staring straight ahead. Motionless as the granite saints around us, yet his eyes were full with pain. Suddenly he stiffened and turned to me. "I have seen you here often."
"I come to study, because it's so peaceful."
"Indeed. I practice here in the evenings," he said, brushing by me as he walked towards the tree. Kneeling, pristine white pants just inches away from the dirt, he flipped over my history book and examined the cover.
"I take this class. Only I am in the afternoon section."
"Yeah, I'm in the morning. We had a lot of work for it tonight," I replied, moving over to crouch beside him. He snorted.
"Hardly. It is quite manageable," he grumbled. "You have done well too, for a girl," he muttered condescendingly. In his hands was one of my old reports, a bright red A emblazoned on the first page.
"Good for anyone," I replied tartly, flushing a little at his arrogant manner. A cool glare was my only answer. Closing my book, he stood fluidly. Swiftly he crossed to his sister's grave, laying a bundle of white lilies beside my wildflowers and bowing his head for a moment. As abruptly he returned to my side, helping me as I gathered my papers and books.
"Are you walking?" he asked curtly, handing me a notebook.
"Yes. I'm only over on Westing Street." I shouldered my bag, clutching the history book to my chest.
"I'll walk with you. It's not wise, nor safe, for a girl to walk alone at night," he said. I nodded, and decided to ignore the slight disdain in his inflection. After all, it was gallant offer, and quite welcome as the sun was merely a blot of color on the horizon. Beside me, he waited.
"Mr. Chang, what may I call you?" I asked politely.
"I am Wufei."
"And I am Relena. Relena Darlian."
Then there was silence. We walked off together past the trees, underneath the brilliant foliage turned even brighter by the dying red rays of the sun.
