The Gap

spockjasperlokizukowriting

Two- Boy From the Bus

"I still don't understand..." Tom sighed, gazing vulnerably down at the paper we had been scrawling over for the last half hour. "But, thank you, Isla Selvig. You performed admirably."

I grinned at the crestfallen boy. "No problem- wasn't much of a performance really. I'll tutor you whenever I can, okay?" I promised.

Tom nodded as the bus pulled to a stop at another intersection, picking up three more students to add to our already nearly full bus. Everyone shared a seat by now. "Sounds like a plan," he beamed. My heart skipped a beat and I giggled. Tom was truly all smiles.

The snow was starting to fall in thicker waves outside the bus, the temperature dropping as the vehicle's heaters struggled to compensate. The students around me, all ages and sizes, were whispering amongst themselves, busily chattering as friends reunited with friends and the tepid atmosphere lightened. Sif was arguing with Vlad about something obscure while Finley and Tom started to talk quietly between them, Finley shooting me a quick glance before laughing with a blushing Tom. I only returned my gaze to my own hands, sneaking side-glances at the boy sitting at my own side. He was slouched over the window now, relaxed and slowly breathing, probably asleep. I still couldn't see his face, his black hair glistening with a dark, mahogany shine, slick and well groomed for a teenage boy. His clear skin, wan as snow-white like the frost crawling along the window, almost sparkled in the dim light. I smiled to myself and pulled my knees against my chest, clutching my ankles and attempting to relax. The bus jerked, his head slamming against the window roughly, but he didn't stir. I bit my lip and raised a suspicious eyebrow. What a deep sleeper.

The bus began to crest one last hill, students wearing heavy winter clothing trudging along the sidewalks in small clusters, all ranging in deep, cold colors and reds. I straightened as the people on the bus began to collectively become active, a large, expanding building slipping into view. I felt Tom tap my shoulder, turning to meet his bright gaze.

"We're here," he announced, shoving his binder in his bag and zipping up the sides.

Finley stretched, groaning and yawning. "Ugh, I hate Mondays," he grunted, rubbing his eyes. Vlad laughed heartedly, Sif wearing her hard, concentrating look.

"Ah, Finley, when will you ever learn never to pull all-nighters?" he chuckled.

Finley glared at him proudly. "No, I didn't stay up all night! I only stayed up till eleven. That's hardly late!"

I laughed with Tom. "Finley, I go to bed at eight! On the dot!" I reprimanded, Tom gently grinning with me. "It's not like that's too early, is it?" I enjoyed feeding into the teasing and the giggling.

Finley gaped at me. "Eight? You're serious?"

"As I'll ever be," I replied.

He looked stunned, as if I had revealed to him I was an alien from Mars. "How do you go to bed that early?"

"It's not early, it's practical," Sif defended as the bus pulled to a halt. The students hurried up to their feet all at once as the brakes engaged, air shooting from compressors in the engine and the suspension hissing. "Now come on, dummies, time for school."

Tom reached for my hand, the question in his eyes ending as I obliged him, allowing him to pull me in tow through the herds of students all pushing to get out all at once, my bag swinging from my shoulder. Hayden and Finley had some scuffle over stepping on each other's feet while Sif strode proudly behind me, leaning towards my ear and whispering, "Oh the delights of boys, if they'll ever learn."

I looked back at her and giggled. "They're fun, aren't they? You're so lucky to live with them! My brother hardly interacts with me at all!"

She smiled indignantly. "If only I did have brothers who ignored me, or were at least the slightest bit sensible."

"I'd take fun over smart in any rate!" I boasted, laughing with her as we hopped from the bus, Tom catching me briefly as I stumbled down the last step, eyes merry. The other three boys regrouped with Sif and skipped to our sides, Tom leading me along through the crowds of students arriving. I looked towards the school building, the main one branching into several different sub-buildings lettered and numeraled. All was made from white stone, bricked upon each other and cemented into large square clusters interrupted by oblong windows.

Tom snickered as he watched me stare at my new school building. "It's not much, but it's school," he shrugged.

"I think it's great!" I piped, smiling dumbly. "I mean, it's much more grand than my other school. My old school was just one building made from red brick."

"Sounds homely," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"But not sophisticated," I retorted playfully, squeezing his hand. I turned to my side to see Finley eagerly hanging onto my words, slipping my arm through the crook in his elbow and mirroring it with Tom's. "So, where do we go first?"

They both chorused something together, but the words clashed and I entirely missed whatever they had said. I frowned but smiled. "I beg your pardon?"

Sif butted in from behind, squeezing between Finley and I. "Finley offered to go to the cafeteria while Tom immediately suggested the library. However, as the only other girl in the group, I think it would be smart to show you around to your first class. The bus was a little bit later than usual, so we only have really about ten minutes to kill, but since we'll be doing senior stuff, we won't be able to show you around otherwise."

I nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed as Vlad opened the door for us. "That sounds logical, I guess..." I said weakly as I was pulled into the main building, a large series of staircases enveloping the space in the middle, twisting up to the second story and forking out into different hallways in different directions, students rushing about and hurrying to their first class. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my schedule, standing near the wall that Tom had lead to me while his cousins crowded around, reading from behind my shoulder. Vlad was the first to comment.

"Ack, you poor thing! You do have Mrs. Spencer!" he lamented.

"When?" Sif asked.

Finley pointed to my third period class of the day. "There. Trigonometry."

"She's in trigonometry?" Tom gasped.

"Well, yeah," I admitted shyly, looking at the schedule and scanning the classes. In order; Physics, Photography, Trigonometry, English, PE, Art, an off period, and then Economy. It was an ordinary schedule to follow, with four classes a day (the first four one, and the next four the next), each class an hour and a half long, with an hour lunch, school out at four, five minute passing periods, with a school start of eight-twenty.

"Well, since you'll be heading to Physics first, might as well lead you there," Sif sighed, grabbing my elbow and towing me in the direction of the staircases. Tom ran up behind us, waving back to Finley, Vlad, and Hayden.

I knitted my brow in confusion. "Are they not coming?" I asked.

Tom gave me an apologetic smile. "Hayden had to turn something in. Those three will see you again at lunch if they don't have any sports practice to do, anyway," he explained cheerfully.

I nodded, feeling less left out. "Oh, okay." Sif lead me up the stairs, releasing her grip once we rounded the top. I almost ran into several people in the process, receiving snide looks and several pitiful ones from people who didn't recognize my face, but knew me as the new girl. Tom nodded and greeted his other friends, people whom I didn't know but who didn't hesitate to be cordial towards me, the girl shyly hiding at Sif's side. Continually towed through the hallways, we finally stopped before a door labeled PHYSICS/CHEMISTRY at the top, decorated around the lintel with paintings of vectors and graphs and atoms and test-tubes full of bubbling green fluids. I smiled at the comedic approach while Tom lead me inside. The classroom was small and flat, with posters littering the walls of graphs and charts on one side and formulas and chemicals on the other, slate tables forming rows that lead up to the chalkboard sectioned off by a desk stacked with papers and one laptop. In the front table sat a small brown-haired girl, pouring over her notebook and reciting something quietly to herself. I didn't see a teacher in sight.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment before Tom put forth the first move, clearing his throat. The girl instantly turned around, glasses balancing on her small nose, brown eyes shining as they suddenly widened. She pushed back from her seat immediately and smoothed down her hair, struggling with her first few words. "Oh, I, um, hi, I guess..." she stammered nervously. "If- if you're looking for Mr. Clark he- he'll be back in a little while if you want to wait..."

Tom shook his head, smiling graciously at the nervous girl. "Oh no, it's fine. We're just dropping off Miss Isla to her first class. It's her first day." Sif rolled her eyes as the girl's face went blank.

"Isla?" she asked, looking suddenly towards me. "You mean, Isla Selvig?"

Tom frowned as he tried to hold his smile, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I gulped and nodded. "I'm Isla Selvig."

The girl suddenly got up, a broad smile on her face, accidentally knocking her notebook to the floor clumsily as she staggered up to me, holding out her hand and jittering excitedly. "Oh, wow, this is sooo cool! Well, I mean, sorry, I'm Jane! Jane Foster. Our dads are working together to do research at the University?"

I nodded, taking her hand and grinning. "Yes, hi. My dad told me about you."

"As of you!" she chirped, glancing at Tom and blushing. "Sorry, it's just that I think your dad is amazing and all of his work in particle fields and nuclear fission is wonderful!"

I giggled at her disposition. "Well, if you say so."

"Oh, but it truly is! You're sooo lucky to have a father like him! And I hear that you're smart too! Fifteen, huh? That's great!" she continued, bubbling like a water fountain. "I'm a senior, but I'm a teacher aide in this class so I'll get to be with you for the rest of the year."

"Good luck Isla," Sif muttered underneath her breath, prompting a curt kick from a peeved but polite Tom.

"So, you can sit next to me if you'd like?" she offered all too hopefully.

"Sure," I smiled. "I'd love to!"

"Oh, well then, great!" she grinned, erubescent as she snuck another look at Tom.

Tom sighed as the silence dragged on a little bit too long and gave a thumb's up. "So, then, that's done! See you at lunch, Isla?" he asked, begging me desperately with his crystalline blue eyes.

I nodded, smiling and quickly glancing at Jane. "Sure! I think I'm in good hands until then," I reassured.

He nodded and grinned. "Okay. Good." He gazed quietly over at Jane, Sif squirming and impatient to leave. "Thank you and have fun, Janet."

Jane pursed her lips and looked down, replying quietly, "It's Jane..."

He kept his smile but blinked. "Oh, right. Sorry... Well, thanks, and take care of her, Jaimie Forager." He then turned and pulled Sif with an imaginary tug behind him, leaving us in the quiet, lonely classroom.

Jane was staring at the floor, bright red, breathing quietly to herself, "Jane Foster, please, it's Jane Foster..."

I smiled grimly and gave her a small pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. I've only just met Tom, but can safely assure you that he can be a little bit dim at times."

Jane looked up at me and nervously laughed. "Oh, yes, well, can't they all?" She quickly trotted back to her desk, picking up her notebook, flustered and letting her stiff smile abandon itself when she thought I wasn't looking.

I strode up to her side, slowly situating myself down in the chair next to hers as people started to gather into the classroom, sitting in their own seats. I pursed my lips while she started again on her private studying, resolving to break the silence with this girl, deeming her probably just as nervous as I was.

"Hey, so, what are we studying so far in this class?" I asked curiously, shifting in my seat and pulling out my physics binder and pencil bag. I eyed my sketchbook warily, resisting the temptation to pull it out as well.

Jane looked up and smiled at me, drumming her fingers over her paper anxiously. "Well, we just finished covering why a perpetual motion machine isn't possible on Earth, and I think we're about to start our brief lesson on wheels and axles..."

I nodded. "Okay. Sounds about where I was," I lied. I had passed the unit three weeks ago.

A tall, skinny, dirty-brown haired man with thick-rimmed glasses and a button-down shirt strode into the classroom, an ID badge hanging from his front pocket and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He blinked and smiled at his students, but otherwise indifferent as he took his place in the front of the classroom, stopping to frown at me in confusion. "I don't remember you being in my class," he stated, cocking his head slightly sideways as he crossed his arms.

I shook my head but straightened and smiled. "Oh, no sir, my name is Acacia Selvig, but I like to go by Isla," I greeted. "I've just moved from New Mexico. I'm a new student."

He wrinkled his nose. "Huh."

Jane bubbled beside me. "Her father is Dr. Erik Selvig! Isn't that wonderful, Mr. Clark?"

Mr. Clark looked back to me, brown eyes unaffected. "Perhaps, then, she's another smarticle-particle like you, Jane. And you know the rule- no two all A stars can sit next to each other, especially since you're my teacher aide, so Acacia will have to find another place to sit."

Jane's bright face automatically fell. "But, Mr. Clark-"

"My word is final," he snapped, sighing and turning towards his desk, plopping down before the small desktop screen and hammering away at the keyboard. "Help Acacia find a new seat." The computer light glowed against his glasses.

Jane pouted and gave me a sulky expression, slumping her shoulders dejectedly. "Well, I almost got away with it..."

I shook my head and smiled. "Oh, no, don't worry about it. I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" she asked hesitantly. "Because if I can talk to him..."

"No, honestly, it's fine," I assured. Shoving my binder back into my backpack, I looked around, sweeping the classroom with a long gaze, searching for a new seat. Most of the desks were full, two partners side by side as they chattered amongst themselves, a handful throwing me curious looks as they pointed and murmured.

I shouldered my bag and walked up to Mr. Clark's desk, resigning to confront him, Jane's eyes following me sadly. He halted his typing and looked over the brim of his glasses, blinking. "May I help you?" he droned.

I took in a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could assign me a new seat, sir, since the one I did have has been deemed off limits?" I asked, attempting to be cautious in my manner and sweet in my tone.

He exhaled through his nose and glanced at his seating chart, standing up rigidly and walking down several of the rows of seats until he stopped at the somewhere in the back of the classroom, tapping the right hand side of one of the last few tables unoccupied. "This one," he said, drawing the attention of some of the other students. "No on else sits here."

I nodded rigidly, taken off guard that I was to be alone, but was silently grateful for the solitude, quickly walking up to it and sitting down, Mr. Clark exchanging places with me and heading to the chalkboard, shutting the door in the process as the last few pupils ran inside, sliding into their own desks and pulling out their binders and calculators. The bell rung and class began.

Mr. Clark put both hands in his jean pockets, pacing slightly as the class settled down. I reached down and brought out my binder and pencil case, still receiving slight stares from my peers. "So, class," Mr. Clark began. "Hope you all had a tolerable weekend. I know I didn't. Damn snow."

The class snickered.

He gave a small half-grin and continued. "So, as some of you probably already know, we have a new student. Acacia, please stand."

He gestured to me, the class following the direction of his extended fingers, pinning me with their eyes. I stiffly stood up, clenching and unclenching my fists as I forced a smile. "Hi."

"Where are you from, Acacia?" he asked for the class.

I swallowed harshly. "New Mexico. I moved last Friday."

"Sounds brilliant," he exhaled. "Also, Acacia, don't take it too personally when I don't call you Isla. I call everyone by their proper names to avoid going with the stupid nicknames they've tried to feed me this year. But class, call her Isla, and I expect you to make her feel welcome. You may take a seat, Acacia."

Some people whispered my middle-name in reiteration, all still staring at me as I sat back down, the sudden urge to hide dissipating as they turned back to face the chalkboard.

Mr. Clark changed topics. "So, anyway, as a happy Monday greeting to everyone, I've decided that we'll watch a movie about Newton's three laws of motion. However, there's some video guide questions so that you don't all slack off, talk, or fall asleep, and expect the material to be on next week's test, too."

The class groaned, annoyed that what they thought had been a reprieve from learning was swiped away as he proceeded to pass out sheets of paper with four or five questions on them. He handed me my own once he had reached the back, giving me a pointed look as I read the questions. They were all incredibly easy, full of common sense and facts that I had memorized since the fourth grade. I took out my pencil as he hit the lights, dimming the classroom to nearly pitch black save for some Christmas lights around the tops of his bookshelves, and he started to project the movie onto the overhead screen.

I scribbled down the answers in my neatest writing, dated it, wrote my name at the top and then pushed it aside, not paying attention as the movie progressed. I filched out my sketchbook and turned to a blank page, sitting back, wondering what images to record. My hand started moving instinctively when I thought about the morning, and how things had gone so far. I thought of Tom, and of Sif and Finley, and Vlad and Hayden, sketching each of their faces, all hinting of their primary expressions and different actions, recording a brief comic of Andrew reading the newspaper while Mother badgered me about my morning. I stopped when I drew Tom's hand in mine as I had met a blushing Jane, inscribing her face in the background, feeling guilty for Tom's thickness to show whenever she tried to speak with him.

Amidst the messy sketchdump I had created to already span across two pages, I left out a small fourth of the last page, staring at the blank paper, wondering what to do with it. I started shading shapes and edging it out, letting my hand do all the work, listening to the movie's cheesy, horrible music in the background as it explained inertia. My eyelids drooped as I worked and I sighed, halting to study what I had created. It looked nonsensical at first and I inwardly growled in frustration, deeming it my worst drawing of the morning, the lines and the black graphite shading never making sense as they converged and diluted into a scrawly splatter. I squinted through the dark, trying to take a better look at it, wondering what I had drawn until my heart started thumping in my chest as I realized what my memory had instinctively created.

The boy in black. The one whom I had sat next to on the bus unwittingly. The one I had seen at the bus-stop but never bothered with, with no name, no face to memorize, no friendliness- not even a word spoken to or from him.

I looked down at my rough sketch and began to see his thick black trenchcoat, his face hidden as it was turned away from me, a sharp jawline ending down to parallel high, pronounced cheekbones, onyx hair combed back and shining, brilliant white skin glistening in the pale light streaming from the window, leather-gloved hands in his lap, his satchel at his feet, a dark green scarf wrapped around his slender neck, headphones in his ears as he sat, or slept, oblivious to the world.

I pondered it momentarily before I tried to fix it, fleshing him out, breathing him to life with every new pencil stroke. I tried to make him into himself once more, but my memory struggled to get it right. My hand shook, the lines never coming out correctly, something entirely missing from the image. It looked like him, but it wasn't him. Something about the entire picture felt wrong and I couldn't place it, heaving a sigh as I let my book fall shut, abandoning the task for now. I promised myself I would either see him again tonight on the bus-ride home or during the following mornings, and would be able to affirm the image in my mind and fix the sketch later. A hollow feeling in my chest nagged me, my hands shaking, my throat burning, my mind seething at the failure. I hated not getting the sketch right, feeling that it was more personal than anything at the moment, and brooded over the fact that I hated it, vowing to amend it all later.

The lights suddenly switched on and the movie ended, the class stirring and whispering and bringing me out of my daze, my thoughts dissolving as I quickly snapped my sketchbook shut and pushed it into my backpack, zipping it up and adding my pencil case. Mr. Clark walked about, shutting his laptop and bringing the class further out of our lethargic stupor.

"Everyone, pass your papers forward," he said, sighing with darkened eyes as we all sent waves of paper heading towards him, Jane scampering up to collect and sort the piles neatly, handing in the final stack. Once he had filed them into a manila folder, he turned back to us and continued. "We have about three more minutes left of class, but I would like to reaffirm that your choice project is due in three weeks, so the clock is counting down, people. Come by and ask me questions during lunch when you have time. Have a good day."

The class slowly stood up, some people walking around and meeting with their friends, all relieved that they had about a two minutes till five minutes of freedom. I gathered my belongings and stood up, grabbing my new red scarf from my backpack and wrapping it around my neck to conserve warm, hiding out in the back of the classroom, looking down while I waited for the dismissal of the bell. Someone cleared their throat, and I look up to find Mr. Clark standing on the other side of my desk, his arms crossed and his expression hard. "So, how was your first lesson, Acacia?"

I nodded, smiling sweetly. "Well, thank you. I thought the topics the movie discussed where interesting."

He nodded. "Mmhmm. Well, that's good and all, but perhaps you would care to explain why you never paid attention at all during its extent?" he pried, raising one eyebrow.

I paled, feeling faint heat in my cheeks while I fidgeted underneath his dark gaze, his young face and tossed hair glittering in the florescent light. "I...I..."

Mr. Clark sighed and looked down, letting his hands fall to his side. "Let me see whatever you were drawing, Acacia," he ordered, lifting one hand and leaving it splayed and wide.

I hesitantly let my bag swing forward and I opened the top sleeve, pulling out my sketchbook and turning it open to the pages I have been decorating, slowly handing it over to him fearfully, nervous about what he would think of me to be drawing random images of different people he probably didn't know, blurred images that sometimes hardly made sense to even I.

He took it and scrutinized the pages, running his fingers over the sketches before looking up through his eyelashes at me, giving me a skeptical look. "You drew these during the movie?"

I blushed, feeling flustered and ashamed. "I'm so sorry, sir, I just- I already knew the material and I was sitting in the back, and I did complete the questions early and gave extensive answers and thought that I could use the time to process my morning. Drawing helps me work everything out in my head, and I-"

He interrupted me. "Acacia, you aren't in trouble in your first class of a new school," he said, snapping my sketchbook shut and handing it back to me. "I was merely curious as to what you found more enticing to do then watch a movie. Most kids would watch the movie just because, whereas you found something more productive for yourself to do. Why?"

I bit my lip. "Well, I guess I'm just not like most kids. I prefer doing something to doing nothing," I sheepishly replied. "I thought I could draw in this place because it would be safe for me to do so."

Mr. Clark nodded, giving me a small smile. "Well, you're a becoming young artist, if I may say so, and if you find the material not challenging enough, feel free to talk to me later on and we can arrange for you a more rigorous curriculum," he offered kindly.

Despite his demeanor, I was starting to come to respect Mr. Clark and his ways. He was an intelligent young man and had caught me off-guard in all accounts. I smiled up at him. "Thanks, sir, but I'll see how it goes for a little while longer before I decide that."

He nodded, biting his lip. "What class do you have next?"

I checked the schedule from my pocket as the bell rung, students filing from the classroom into the busied and loud hallway outside. "Photography," I answered.

"Do you know how to get there?" he continued, eyebrow raised.

I shook my head shyly. "No, sir."

He nodded but gave me a reassuring pat on the back as we both walked towards the door. "It's quite simple to get there from this hallway. You know the stairs you came up to get here?"

I nodded.

He gave a small smile. "Well, go back down them and then go in the far left hallway on the bottom floor. It'll be one of the last doors down, closest to the double doors leading to the soccer fields," he explained. "I hope you enjoy learning with Ms. Greene. She's a nice lady."

I smiled up at him, stopping at the door. "Thank you, Mr. Clark."

His eyes flickered behind his glasses as he gave a slighted grin. "Anything, kid," he affirmed. I nodded and turned on my heels, heading down the hallway in the direction of the staircase Sif had shown me up earlier. The hallway was crowded, with students opening their lockers in a hurry and walking with fast pace into classrooms, some of them stopping and meeting with their friends, laughing and catching up after the weekend. I kept my head down and my arms crossed, walking with my own temperament down the hallway until I rounded the corner leading to the main stairwell, beginning to walk down when I heard a shrill voice call my name, "Isla!"

I turned around, stepping up to the second story once more as I saw Jane run up to me, panting as she skidded to a stop and inhaled drastically. "Huh, well, hi again!" she gasped between breaths. "I wanted to welcome you once more to our school."

I smiled at her, a few people bumping into me as I stood in the middle of traffic to meet with her, a reassuring hand on the railing. "Thanks, Jane. It was great to finally meet you."

"Yeah, you too!" she chirped. "But, hey, I was wondering if we could hang out later sometime? You know, like, you guys could come over for dinner sometime at my house if you wanted to..." She looked down and blushed.

I nodded and laughed. "Yes, likewise to you!"

She grinned hopefully. "Really? Well, okay then! Cool! Seeya!" She skipped off in the other direction, leaving me with a small smile on my face as I turned back, starting back down the stairs, thinking of how much she was probably looking forward to me bringing my dad over to her house. It felt good to know what someone besides my brother and I looked up to our dad, and having Jane make that admiration vocal was kind of her. I got the feeling that she was a shy girl that mainly kept to herself, and if anything was slightly geeky, but I liked her all the same. I added the delightful Jane Foster to the list of people I wanted to become friends with. I blinked and held my chin a little bit higher, averting my eyes from the ground and pulling my scarf tighter around my neck as I neared the bottom of the stairs, Jane's character making me feel slightly more confident in myself.

I placed my foot down, but where I was supposed to feel the flat support of a tiled stair I felt nothing, my heel catching on my current step as I tilted forward, unable to keep my balance any longer. For a brief moment, my heart froze and the world stood entirely still, adrenaline rushing through my veins in a sudden burst of speed as I fell crashing forwards, time speeding up as I collided with another tall, firm, warm body and tumbled to the ground, rolling down the last few stairs and tangling with the person I had crashed into. I squeezed my eyes, unable to control anything as the person I had taken down with me and I went thumping down to halt on the ground floor, the air knocked from my screaming lungs as I was planted by gravity against my other victim. I coughed and gasped, choking as my scarf constricted me uncomfortably, air suddenly impossible to get. I blacked in and out, my head throbbing and pounding as I opened my eyes, my vision slurred as I waveringly sat back up, straddling whoever was beneath me, dizzy as I rocked forwards and backwards, fingers fumbling for the scarf around my neck. Whoever was under me wrapped their hands beneath my armpits and picked me from their pelvis, rolling me over and shucking the scarf from my neck, oxygen suddenly rushing to my lungs, my heart thundering in my chest as I could abruptly breathe again, my head hitting the floor as I let it fall backwards. I blinked continuously, vision quickly coming back to me as I strained my vision, choking on my new air. I struggled for a clear breath as I looked up to see who I had landed on, my mind slowly registering what was happening, blood rushing to my head as reality hit me like a battering ram.

A pair of bright, iridescent green eyes leveled with mine, a gaze that was dark and penetrating, sable eyelashes framing them and leading out to an angular bone structure and pallid skin. I zeroed in on the face, the now messy black hair that was combed backwards behind a broad forehead, shining in the lights, a black trenchcoat disjointed around a neat button down collared tee, a thick green scarf wrapping around his pale neck, leather-gloved hands clutching the very own red scarf that had been threatening to strangle me earlier. It all hovered over me as I lay down on my back, his eyes shocked, expectant, and if anything, worried.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, my mind screaming as I realized who I had crashed into.

The boy from the bus.

I shot up, pushing myself away from him as I wobbled to my feet, taking in the small crowd of stunned spectators who had collected in a circle around us and our scene. They were asking me questions, I was sure of it, but I didn't hear them. I could only look at his eyes, his face, and suddenly put that to the image of whenI had first seen him on the bus, at the bus-stop, always staring out and away. Warmth eased across my cheeks, my face burning with an oncoming blush as I recognized what I had done, who I had fallen against, and I did what my only my instinct could command me to do.

I ran away, pummeling in the direction of photography class, leaving the boy in black behind with my scarf.