"He was so staring at you," muttered the blonde, her British accent evident.
"Was not," Helena retorted, choosing instead to focus all her energy on the most crucial decision she'd make that day: chicken or fish? High-quality as it was, the food at BLA definitely became tedious after three years of daily consumption.
"Was to!"
"Was not."
"Was to!"
"Lucy!" the seventeen-year-old cried in frustration as they moved over to their usual table in the center of the cafeteria. "He was not, he was not! He was… he was probably just staring at his reflection in the window. New kid," she muttered, mindlessly poking her boiled potatoes with a silver fork. "Thinks he's so great. Probably arrogant, self-absorbed, womanizing—"
"Anyone I know?" came an amused voice from directly behind her. Helena's eyes widened, and her fork clattered as she dropped it on her plate. She felt a kick under the table and looked up to see Lucy with a very pointed look on her face. Alex, meanwhile, had slid onto the bench beside Helena and begun contentedly digging in to his own chicken parmesan.
"I don't suppose you'd like to join us, Mister O'Connell?" she asked, the irony evident in her voice.
"You know who I am then," he stated, obviously satisfied. Helena blushed and glared at her now somewhat mashed potatoes. Alex looked somewhat pleased with himself, but the following silence was nothing if not awkward.
"So Alex," Lucy started, determined to keep the conversation moving in some sort of positive direction. "Your mother's Evelyn O'Connell, then? I've read her book, and I must say it's quite… riveting. No truth behind it all, then?"
"None at all," the youngest O'Connell lied smoothly. "We had our adventures, sure, but they weren't that – you know – romantic, or anything. And the mummies we found didn't usually come back to life."
Lucy pouted, popping a few raisins into her mouth. "That's so unfortunate."
"Hardly."
Finally, Helena forced her cheeks back to their normal complexion and looked up from her plate, wondering what exactly was going on. Was it possible that the newest, most mysterious, and arguably most handsome (she wasn't going to try and kid herself otherwise) addition to the BLA population really wanted to be her friend? She supposed he deserved the benefit of the doubt, after all, but something was missing… logic! That was it. Where was the logic in it all? Sure, after her parents' demise she'd been left a very sizeable estate, but rumor had it that money wasn't something any of the O'Connells had to worry about. She wasn't easy, by any means. If a boy wanted a girlfriend or a plaything or whatever label girls gave themselves these days, Helena Pallworth was not the one they went to. Maybe he hadn't been informed.
"What brings you to Brigadier-Lial, Mister O'Connell?" Helena inquired, finally finding her voice. "Word on the street is, you're not exactly in it for the academics."
He didn't look phased by her backhanded comment. In fact, he chuckled. Was he laughing at her? Really?
"No," he shook his head. "It's kind of a long story—"
"I have time," she cut him off, leaning on the table and looking directly at him. Maybe if she'd been taller, buffer, and a guy, it would've been an intimidating form of interrogation, but apparently that was not the case at present.
"As a matter of fact," Alex smirked and glanced at his watch. "you don't. Lunch is over… now."
At that exact moment, a screeching sound rang throughout the cafeteria, causing students to wince, cover their ears, and roll their eyes at the prospect of another two hours of classes. And to think it was only the first week of school.
"Later then, Mister O'Connell. I'm intrigued." She was going to get to the bottom of whatever his little 'I'm-your-friend-no-I'm-not-or-am-I' scheme before the week was out.
"Please," he scoffed, scooping up both their trays simultaneously and carrying them over to the depository. "Call me Alex."
Helena watched, dumbfounded, as he disappeared into the crowd. Turning to look at Lucy, she noticed that the same look had fallen on her friend's face.
Shaking her head and moving towards the door, she muttered a very delayed response to his parting suggestion.
"Whatever you say, Mister O'Connell."
The rest of the day passed very slowly for Alexander O'Connell. He zoned out entirely for the first half of Spanish, thinking about her.
He didn't get it. He really didn't. She didn't seem like anything special at first glance—pretty but not a movie star, bright but not a prodigy, independent but not a rebel. He didn't owe her anything or have some kind of history/bias. She'd never done anything to try and attract his attention. In fact, she'd never even shown interest in him. Helena Casey Pallworth was just inexplicably magnetic.
One hour into the class, Alex felt a jab at his shoulder.
"Alex!" whispered Roy sharply, poking him once more. "Alex, you're in the hot seat."
What? The hot seat? Alex's eyes shot up, and he and noticed Professor Harrison had a very stern look on his face.
"She said it to him, Mister O'Connell," came the elderly man's clear, crisp, unendingly frightening voice. "Translate, please. Do not make me repeat it again."
Wait, he'd already said it twice? That couldn't be good. A pregnant silence filled the room, and every head suddenly turned to face him, Helena's included. Her blue eyes glared at him from the front of the class, obviously doubting his ability to answer the question. He closed his own eyes, running the phrase through his mind and hoping the right translation would come out. Ella lo la… Ella le lo… Shit.
"Ella se lo dio," the words came tumbling out of Alex's mouth, and he heard an audible sigh of relief from Roy.
Professor Harrison took a deep breath. "Well done, Mister O'Connell," he praised, though Alex could tell the old man was more than a little disappointed at missing the opportunity to berate one of his students.
Risking a glance at Helena, Alex noticed that the look on her face had changed to one of—well, he couldn't tell for sure, but she seemed unsure whether to be frustrated or impressed. Secretly, he was pulling for the latter.