by Anika Rahman
“Mr. Saunders and Mrs. Ross,” Mr. Moore continued.
With that newsflash, I was immobilized in my seat, incapable of moving a single muscle. I turned around faintly to see a towering, about six feet four, blond guy heading towards my seat. He plopped down on the seat next to me without even looking in my direction. Once he took his seat, I noted that he had elegant blond hair that had some natural brownish highlights. His hair, which fell to the bottom of his nape, was straight from the top and wavy around the bottom. His overall appearance from my side seemed pretty . . . ordinary.
“Alright class! Your task is very simple. All you have to do is, you know, intersperse with your partners and get to know as much as you can about them. Then, you will have to write an essay based on them that is due Friday. Remember, at least five pages,” Mr. Moore finished with enough emphasis on mingle to create a chorus of groans from the classroom, again.
I didn’t even have the slightest idea of how I’m supposed to gather information about him. I didn’t even know his name, for starters. Here I am freaking out about my grade as my partner wrote down a whole book about me, which was very surprising and a bit disturbing.
Wow! I don’t know a thing about him but he knows so much about me. How is that even possible? Is he a stalker or something? I thought to myself. Just then, my partner responded. He actually spoke to me for the first time.
“It’s because I truly pay assiduity to my surroundings and I’ve found out a lot about you in the past three years. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, actually, I do know that. You haven’t even noticed me in the past three years, sitting all the way in the back of the classroom, in the same classes as you, have you?,” he snorted in a very arrogant voice while I just gaped at him like his blond hair had been supplanted by millions of miniature, petite heads. How had he been able to mirror my thoughts? Abnormal much? On top of that, he used big words that were supposed to be umm . . . impressive?
“How long have you been in the same class as me?” I asked quietly.
“That’s not important right now,” he said, shaking his head full of blond hair. I suddenly had this strong urge to reach out and run a hand through his hair, but I held myself back. Where did that come from? I silently scolded myself as he glanced over and smirked at me. He looked as if he’d just read my mind or something. My cheeks suddenly felt very warm and I looked down at my notebook, trying to get my temperature back to normal.
Across the room, Maddie gave me a thumbs up and mouthed, good luck, before beginning her assignment. I unquestionably would need a lot of luck if I wanted to successfully pass this class.
Twenty five whole minutes passed and all I’ve managed to inscribe was:
* He is big.
* He has blond hair.
* He is a boy.
* He goes to my school.
* He seems very . . . normal.
* His last name is Saunders.
* I hate my life.
In the meantime, he looked as if he could go on and on and on about me like he knew me since forever. Every five minutes, I would glance at his notebook only to find a whole page already filled with information. At one point, he had glanced at my notebook and laughed quietly to himself, then frowned, then actually smiled a real smile. This had enraged me so much that I had even considered slapping him across the face, but I dismissed that idea. Again, he had smirked as if he could telepathically read my mind.
“What are you writing?” I ask him, quite curious by his actions.
“She does speak English. I was right all along,” he smiles, looking down at his notebook and writing that I could speak English. “She smells of sunshine, loves to read books more than anything else on Earth, loves funny people, hates chocolate—“
“How do you know all of this?” I asked him, a little surprised, but I was able to mask my horror.
“Has an older brother, thinks that the library is the happiest place on Earth, has a blonde best friend, gets good grades, lives in—,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“How do you know all of this?” I ask him again and this time, he shrugs.
“I just do,” he replies, pissing me off even more.
With that, the bell rang, letting me get out of this diminutive abyss like place I was stuck in. I basically ran out of the classroom, but once I got to my locker, he was already there, leaning casually against my locker and checking out his nails and frowning like he desperately needed a manicure. This was just great.
As I drew closer to him, he looked up, straightened up and away from my locker, ceding me space to open it, which I did. He just stood there the whole time, looking carefully at everything I do as if he was learning me by heart which was definitely the most normal thing to do. At last, once I closed my locker, he handed me a piece of paper that had his number on it. My eyes grew wide and I didn’t even know what to do now. Why? I wanted to ask. When I looked up at him, he just smirked again.
“Call me if you need anything like . . . oh, I don’t know, stuff you need to know about me for your report,” he winked.
“Why?” I asked quietly again and he smiled.
“Because judging by your notebook, you don’t have any real information about me. No juicy gossip, no nothing,” he shrugged and left, walking away with style.
I turned around to stuff that piece of paper into my backpack and forget all about him, but when I turned around, I saw Maddie approach me with what looked like a chagrined contortion.
“So . . . how’d your ‘session’ go?” she asked me, putting air quotations around the word session.
“Agonizingly unexciting. He knew everything about me and had, like, ten pages filled out,” I replied, filling her in on everything that had happened.
“Yeah, Mark was so infuriating, arrogant and an airhead. Jeez, how can someone be sooo cocky? He had that stupid smirk on his face the whole period that just made me wanna whack some sense into him,” Maddie had said when I asked her about her “session”. At least she found out her partner’s name. I didn’t even know mine.
“Well, I guess we’re gonna have to deal with it. Right?” I asked Maddie as we reached our next period class.
“Yup. I guess so. It’s just like high school without the musical. I wish our life wasn’t so freakin’ annoying,” she sighed and gave me a look that said, what can we do about life?
I laughed, actually laughed for the initial time in weeks, as we entered our next little disheartening nightmare. It is only a musical if it is our dream. Oh how I wish our high school was more like a musical. I would do anything to have that kind of life.
“That makes two of us,” Maddie smiles, echoing my thoughts. How did she know?
“Did I say that out loud?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Yes,” she smirks and I sighed.
CHAPTER 2
back to the beginning, hit rewind
School had not been very kind to me these past two days. Although, I got to hang out with Elliot which hadn’t persisted very long after Savvy had called him.
Savannah Chelsea Grey is my brother’s classmate/girlfriend who goes to the same school as him. She has straight, beautiful golden brown hair that falls halfway down her back. Savvy also had a pair of stunning grayish blue eyes that somehow darkened whenever she felt like she was in imminent danger. She has a beautiful round face with pale skin and a few almost invisible freckles around her high cheekbones. Savvy’s a great friend of mine who not only “hangs out” with Elliot, but she manages to find some time for me too.
I authoritatively endure an antipathy against school. My whole week sucked, a lot. I tried to get Mr. Moore to change my partner from that freak to someone more . . . compatible.
Instead, Mr. Moore had just laughed and told me that was the main reason we had unstable partners in the first place, to accept them for who they are and overlook their freakiness. The last person that I craved to see was had stood by my locker, again, before my next period.
* * * * *
As I went up to my locker to open it, he stepped aside and beckoned me to open it. I was surprised to see him of all people to stand by my locker, but I masked my face with an impassive expression. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me like this. As I unlocked my locker, he just eyeballed me from where he was standing, trying to find out something about me.
At last, I couldn’t take it anymore so I just blurted, “What do you want from me?” somewhat too harshly. He didn’t even flinch or move or anything. What was his problem? When he didn’t answer, I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away.
He seized my wrist and I thought he would turn me around to face him, but he pulled me to him, my hands flat on his chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. As much as I hated this position, this is the only way James can talk to me without me having to run away and him having to catch me every time.
Ah, now I could see him clearly. He had angular cheeks and a pair of full, naturally rose colored lips. His eyes were a beautiful shade of pale baby blue while the irises were surrounded by dark, stygian black. Last time I checked, his eyes were not so . . . pale. I frowned at that, thinking he might be some sort of freak. Or maybe he just wore contacts he bought from the store Freaks-R-Us. Suites him though, he is a freak.
“When is your next free period?” he whispered in a calm, voice that said “I don’t bite. I just want to ask you a simple question.” His face was really close to mine and I could feel his breath fanning my face.
“Why do you care?” I asked, a bit chary of his intentions. He probably wanted to vociferate at me about how tedious my life is based on all the statistics he has congregated about me.
“Because you haven’t called me in the past two days to get some stuff about me for your essay. I’ll have you know that I am a very . . . remarkable creature,” he retorted, searching for the accurate words. When he saw the expression I was dressed in, he continued.
“Okay. I know that I probably freaked you out the first day in Biology class so I want another chance to, you know, make it up to you. You know, a chance to go back to the beginning, hit . . . rewind? Maybe you can meet me in the library during your next free period with your blonde friend and I’ll bring Mark along so we can all ‘study’ together?” he said, offering me a charismatic smile that was probably meant to make me fall for him. I bet you he smiled like that in front of every girl to make her swoon, but it isn’t that easy to get me.
I should just turn down his offer for calling Maddie a blonde, but I didn’t. His smile seemed to have left me dumbstruck. He just seemed so inhumanly beautiful and definitely inhumanly off-the-wall. But I really do need the grade for the essay. Everyone does deserve a second chance, a chance to just spool back. At last, I had made up my mind. Maddie would put up with Mark for me, she’s my BFF. I know for a fact that she won’t let me down.
“Fine, I guess everyone deserves a second chance. I’ll meet you in the library with my friend Maddie who will definitely be there,” I said, sealing my date for the essay in the library with a guy whose name I still didn’t know.
“It’s James by the way. See you there, friend,” James finished off with a chuckle. How did he always read my mind and just answer my thoughts?
* * * * *
I snapped out of my daze as I entered the library with a cantankerous Maddie, grumbling on and on about why I had dragged her here.
“Hey! I help you out all the time and the least you can do is put up with Mark so I can get a decent grade on my essay,” I told Maddie for like the millionth time.
“Fine,” she said finally, sounding like a little girl who had just been disciplined about imperturbability. She always acted like a little in dire need of discipline, but . . . that’s Maddie.
When we arrived at the library, Mark and James were already conversing and waiting for us. When James saw us, he waved off Mark and made his way over to where I was standing. That’s when he did the unforeseen, leaving a bewildered Maddie standing there beside me, gawking at James.
He just hugged me like we were long lost Grade A mates while I just stood there, still trying to piece the events together. Why did he just do that? We just met for God’s sake. James had this weird habit where he would do something you least expected. Oh well, guess I just have to keep expecting the unexpected.
Once he pulled back, he just stood there for a moment, smiling down at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Maddie had already taken her seat across from Mark who was smirking, leaving Maddie scowling at him. So . . . I guess there were just me and James standing by the doorway.
“You made it. Yay! I am so pleased that you also fetched your little blond friend with you so Mark won’t trouble us,” he said, making it very clear that he was perturbed by both Mark and Maddie.
“Yeah, I guess,” I responded, still trying to convalesce from the shock of his embrace. James walked us over to our table, four seats down from Mark and Maddie’s seat. James sat on Mark’s side of the row while I sat on Maddie’s. Before beginning, Maddie looked over at us and mouthed good luck to me. I would definitely need all the luck I could have.
The library was probably the happiest place on Earth for me. Probably? I know for sure that the library is the happiest place on Earth for me. I loved coming here whenever I had the time and getting a book. I even sometimes helped Mrs. Lauren, the librarian, out. The walls of the library were a pale blue color with a few posters on the wall. One of them read, “Ha! Ha! Made you Read!” with two guys standing under the text, laughing and pointing to the reader. The room was filled with rows and rows of books and several tables and chairs by the window. The librarian’s desk was wooden and big and circular. I sometimes wondered how Mrs. Lauren would get in there. Besides all these other things, the room was pretty spacious, making you feel at ease in seconds.
Mrs. Lauren was a 33 year old, short blond lady who would frequently take off her glasses and put them back on. She was usually very forgettable, always asking where her phone was even though it was right in front of her. Despite all of this, she was very kind, sarcastic and very witty. Mrs. Lauren was so down to earth, if a meteorite were to hit and blow off the whole school, she wouldn’t notice.
“So, do you have any questions for me before we begin?” James queried, still in an idyllic attitude. What could I ask him? Why are you so creepy? Yeah, maybe then, I’ll have a whole page written about him.
“What is your name? Why did you invite me to bring Maddie? You didn’t have to bring Mark with you. So . . . why’d you do it?” I catechized, biting back my last question, Why are you such a freak?
“Okay; one at a time please. First of all, my name is James Chauncey Saunders. And Mark is my best friend. In case you’re pondering what his name is, it’s Mark Williams Matterazzi. I told you to bring your blond friend ov—,” he continued.
“Her name is Maddie,” I said through gritted teeth, trying not to go overboard with the correcting.
“Yeah, whatever. Any who, where was I? Oh, yes. I told you to bring your friend over because I wanted to make sure that Mark wouldn’t annoy me and he seems to quite enjoy her presence,” James finished, gesturing towards Mark and Maddie’s seats.
Yeah, okay. He really was enjoying her presence because her face was buried in her hands and Mark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, smirking and all as if he was satisfied by Maddie’s reaction to whatever it is that he had said. Poor girl; I’ll do anything to make it up to her.
“Anything else?” James asked once more.
“How do you know so much about me, Mr. Saunders?” I retorted, trying my best to be courteous and get all my suspicions out of the way because there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me calling him James as if we really were friends.
When I looked up to see his mien, his lips were compressed into a thin line, his brows rutted together as if he was trying to find out a way to answer my query without giving too much away like a movie trailer would.
Finally, he looked at me with a penetrating glare, not the immoral kind and undeniably not the ethical kind either.
“Do you have any concepts about what you think I am? If you do, feel free to share,” he told me like a wise philosopher. Well, now that he has mentioned it, I did have a few theories in mind. James could be a vampire since he was so insipid. But then again, he could be some kind of a superhero who just happens to read mind. Or he’s probably some sort of god or something due to his inhuman structures. Or maybe he was just a mind-reading psychopath. Or maybe he was just a pretentious.
“Umm . . . A vampire?” I asked, inaudibly cussing myself for my qualms.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” James laughed. Even his laughter sounded inhuman. His voice was always like honey and whenever he laughed, it just felt as if his voice was dripping honey. There was no way you could have ever been able to repel James, the way he would just communicate to you and make you, under duress, utter out whatever it is that you were keeping veiled. His voice would just make your whole essence melt.
Judging by his laughter, he was categorically not a vampire. James’ laughter faded out and he just sat there staring at me now, which was ten times worse than the laughter. The intensity of his intent look was too much to bear that I hastily glanced down at my notebook while he just sat there now, gazing and smirking at me.
“Any other ideas?” he enquired, his eyes never leaving my face.
“A superhero? Some kind of god or something? Just some mind-reading psychopath? A phony?” I sighed, meeting his gaze which he held for quite a long time.
At last, he came out of his shell and answered me, still staring at me in that weird type of way that made me feel like I was in a lot of trouble. What did I get myself into?
