Chapter 4
Scipio noticed Prosper's angry glares all right. Scipio wanted to shout at Hornet, 'What the hell, can't you see your breaking Prosper's heart?' But Hornet had stopped flirting in home room, and had carefully decided that she was doing wrong.
Hornet and Prosper weren't in his first period class, which was History. The teacher was an old hag. She had on maybe three, four layers of makeup and a dress worth a thousand laughs. All his other teachers were either too mean, too nice, or way too obnoxious. The best teacher was his Art teacher, period four. Hornet was in that class. He sat next to her, trying to sketch a winged lion. He was failing horribly. The teacher was Mrs. Thibideau, she was French and completely oblivious.
"Your wings look like Ida's mash potatoes," Hornet said mockingly as she made gentle strokes with her pencil all over her paper.
"Yeah, that's better than what I expected."
"Hey Scipio, can I ask you a question?" Hornet stared down at her paper. Everyone else in class was talking or drawing. They were loud, but Scipio had only ears for Hornet.
"This morning I was acting kind of...silly," Hornet muttered. She glanced at Scipio. "But I was hoping that you'd tell me what you and Prosper were saying last night. So I hoped that...being silly would make you tell me. So, will you?" Hornet grasped her pencil. What was she saying? That she flirted because she wanted something?
"Hornet, that's kind of between me and Prop- but why do you care?"
"Because, Prosper was mad at you for some reason. I thought it was about you lying to us awhile back, but its about something different. You said something that changed Prosper's mind..." Hornet connected all her sketches together, making it close to a lion. "What did you say?" Hornet asked miserably.
"I can't tell you that Hornet. I'm sorry, but I promised Prop. Wow, nice lion." Hornet's lion was almost complete. It was beautiful. It had long, curving wings, and a wild mane of fur. It was looking downwards, like it was sad.
"Hornet, that is awesome..." breathed Scipio.
"Yeah... it is." Scipio went to go sharpen his pencil, when he accidentally ran straight into a girl with long brown hair tucked behind her ears.
"Sorry! Scusi," the girl's green eyes flashed at Scipio, and then she walked over to a table covered with paper and pencils. She was the only person sitting there.
"Who's she?" Scipio asked Hornet when he sat down.
"Oh, her? That's Samantha. She's this American that came here a week after me. I don't know her very well, but she's supposedly an orphan that lives with her foster father, or something."
Scipio stared at the girl. Her hair went past her hips, long and wavy. Her clothes were beat up, but nevertheless she was beautiful.
"Samantha," he whispered the name like her was tasting cool ice cream.