by C. L. Stone
“You should get one, too,” I said. “Come on. We’ll all get the same book and then we can compare notes.”
He seemed to like this idea and he picked up his book bag.
“I guess I should go, too,” Luke said. He grabbed the notebook I had given him earlier. There were doodles on the front cover. At least he used it for something.
When his head tilted, I recognized my clip. His blond locks were pulled back and twisted similar to how I did mine.
I smirked at him. “Nice hair,” I said.
He looked surprised and reached back, his fingers catching the curve of the clip. “Like it? It’s a new thing I picked up.”
“He threatened me in the hallway, Sang,” Gabriel whined. “I didn’t want to give it to him. I was going to give it back. Eventually.”
I sighed. Luke was right. I’d need to bring reserve clips around Gabriel. Perhaps even additional spares for Luke.
We were headed out of the courtyard when I noticed Silas was following us. I paused so I could fall back and walk next to him.
“Do you have some required reading, too?”
“No,” he said. “But we’ve got our class coming up. I thought I should stick with you so we could walk together.”
It was so thoughtful and while I wanted to say so, I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I smiled as warmly as I could. He dipped his hands into his pockets as we followed Kota up the main stairwell and through a set of hallways.
The second floor was empty.
“How come no one hangs out up here?” I asked.
“They probably aren’t supposed to,” Kota said. “There are lockers up here. I imagine they don’t want to encourage theft or property damage.”
Still, there was no one around to tell us to not be there. I wondered how well those upper hallways were monitored.
We found the library at the end of one long hallway, as if tucked away in the most distant corner of the school. Kota held the door open for us and we all stepped in.
The library appeared to be the same size as my garage at home. Shelves were lined up around the walls of the room. There were a handful of older computers in one corner with Windows 2000 screensavers. There was a small circulation desk, painted in orange and brown and two women with peach-tinted hair and glasses stood guard behind it.
We were the only students in the library. The librarians’ eyes followed us as we moved toward the walls of shelves. It was hard to tell if we were unexpected or if they felt they needed to monitor us so we didn’t damage or steal anything.
“Hm,” Kota said, looking through the rows of books. “It appears to be only encyclopedias and all the required reading books. Not a lot of other options.”
I picked up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, the cover was torn in half and the binding was a little loose. “Good thing we came today. There are only a handful of copies of each.”
Everyone except Silas debated on which book to start with but it was Kota that decided to start with Dracula. “It’s one of the only ones with four copies available. We’ll go somewhere else for the next book. I feel guilty as it is just taking their last copies of this.”
“I’ve read a few of these already,” I said, checking out the reading list again.
“I know. Me, too,” he said. “Save the ones you’ve already read just in case things get busy later. If not, we’ll use things we’ve already read for the last couple of tests and have an easy time before finals.”
That was pretty clever thinking. I was happy that Kota was there or I would have been tempted to reread something I already knew.
We were at the circulation desk before I realized the others had pulled out cards.
“Do I need a library card?” I asked. “It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be one. In my last school, the librarian just typed in your name.”
“It’s a school ID,” Luke said. “You were supposed to go get one during study hall... oh wait, that’s right. You didn’t get a study hall.”
I rubbed a fingertip over my eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we needed one.”
Kota took the book from me. “I’ll get this. Silas, you go with her to get her ID.”
“Are you sure?” I asked Kota.
He smiled at me and nodded. “Don’t worry. If you forget to turn it in, I know where you live. I’ll come by and get it.”
My eyes widened and he laughed. He knew how to keep me in line.
I walked alongside Silas through the quiet hallways. It was starting to feel like a rush to get everything done today. I felt flustered trying to come up with something to talk about, but he seemed content to walk quietly beside me.
“You’re going to join the baseball team here, right?” I asked, finally settling for sports. I knew he liked baseball.
“I’m considering changing my mind,” he said. “I checked out the field and it looks pretty bad. Besides, the football coach was bugging me this morning about tryouts.”
I looked up at him but he stared at the ground, his face unreadable. “Football isn’t your favorite?”
“Not really.”
“So why settle for football? Why not go with something you love?”
He shrugged. “Not everything works out the way you want it to.”
“It should,” I said. I felt it was true. There was so much fun stuff to do out there and it seemed silly to waste time with doing something you didn’t want. I spent a lot of time at my parents’ house when other kids were in dancing school or summer camps or going to the park to play. Even now my mind was turning as to what I could do, what my parents would allow for me to do, that involved more time away from the house. “Maybe the baseball team could use a player like you. Someone with talent and passion for the game. It might inspire others to play.”
His lips curled up. “Perhaps. I might do both. Football for the fall, baseball in the spring. Mr. Blackbourne might want me to do it, anyway. I may try to convince North to go with me.”
“Does North like sports?”
“Watching them,” he said. “He hates playing. He doesn’t really like being told what to do.”
Silas lead the way to the offices downstairs and near the front of the building. We followed a small corridor near the nurses’ office. A round wood table had been set up with a computer hooked to a camera and a printing station. A teacher sat by a machine. She asked my name, typed it in a computer and had me stand in front of a blue sheet of paper that had been taped to the wall.
I was waiting for the photo to flash when Silas got into my line of sight. “Smile,” he said.
I blushed. “It’s just a school photo.”
He shrugged. “Do it anyway. Say cheese or fiddlesticks or San Francisco or whatever.”
I felt my lips moving into a grin hearing him say fiddlesticks and the camera light flashed. Red and green spots washed over my eyes.
In five minutes, I had a photo ID where my cheeks were pink and I had a crazy smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my picture taken, so my face looked strange to me.
“I look terrible,” I said, holding my ID up and analyzing how my hair looked mangled on one side.
“Let me see,” Silas said, reaching for the card. He tilted it toward his face, angling it away from a gleam of light reflected in it. “It’s not bad. You’re cute.”
I rubbed my hands over my cheeks as they felt hot. “I only have to use it if they ask for it, right? And for the library?”
“I think they use it as your yearbook picture, too.”
My eyes widened. He broke into a grin and started laughing.
“That’s not funny,” I said, reaching for the ID.
He held it up over my head. “I might keep this. I don’t have a picture of you.”
I leapt into almost an en pointe on my toes for it, but with Silas being so tall, he held it outside of my reach easily. I stumbled forward, and on instinct put out a hand to stop myself and ended up pushing into him. I let go quickly after I was sta
ble. He jerked his chest forward, bending over a little, feigning being hurt. I stepped away from him, walking backward and laughing at the crazy face he was making. I backed up into something solid.
I turned and my heart dropped into my shoes in horror as I faced a bristling Mr. McCoy, the vice-principal.
“You have a nasty habit of running into people, Miss Sorenson,” he said. He brushed at his brown suit coat as if I had soiled it. “You should watch where you’re going.” His chubby cheeks protruded and his watery eyes squinted at me.
My finger fluttered up to my lower lip. I receded. Silas came up behind me and I stopped so I wouldn’t bump into him, too. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McCoy.”
His small eyes slid down to my skirt. I snapped to attention, putting my hands to my thighs to show him my skirt was well within regulation. He scowled, looking back up at me. “Goofing off in the hallways is not permitted.”
“We were getting our IDs,” Silas said. “And now we’re heading to our next class.”
The bell rang and the hallway moved into action with students shuffling off in different directions.
Mr. McCoy cleared his throat. “Follow me, Miss Sorenson. I believe there’s a detention slip with your name on it in my office.”
“I don’t believe an accident is a cause for a detention, sir,” Silas replied.
I bit my lip, reaching back to touch Silas’s arm, silently pleading with him to not press the issue. I didn’t want him to get a detention, too.
Mr. McCoy turned to him, squinting into Silas’s face. “You’re one of Mr. Blackbourne’s kids, aren’t you?”
Silas glared back at him. “I’m from the Academy.”
“Not now you aren’t,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer. “Don’t think for one minute I won’t give you detention, too. Or worse.” He jerked is head back to me. “I’m going to let you go this time. The next time I see you, you better keep your head down. I’ll be watching.” He glanced once more at Silas and stalked down the hallway.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “Silas...”
He shook his head and grabbed my hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”
♥♥♥
We slid into class at the last minute and took two seats near the back. I collapsed into the chair, panting. Mr. McCoy was going to be a problem.
“That was the vice-principal, right?” Silas asked, tilting over the top of his desk to talk to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I can’t believe I ran into him twice.”
“I don’t think this was your fault. He was watching us from down the hall and when we got close, he leaned into you. He was waiting for this.”
My mouth fell open. “He was looking to give me detention?”
Silas’s lips pursed and he shook his head but didn’t say anything. Whatever it was, I was sure I wanted to keep clear of Mr. McCoy. What stopped him this time? Was it Silas or the lingering name of the Academy that made Mr. McCoy recant his promise of a detention? Was he afraid of the Academy?
Flirting
While the teacher was going over the agenda, I shifted my feet under my desk. I stopped short, hitting what I thought was my book bag. I checked so I could move it. Silas snapped his feet from under my chair, his knee knocking into his desk top. He covered his knee with his hands and he sucked through his teeth once.
“Sorry,” I whispered to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought I hit my book bag.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and put his head to the desk. He let go of his knee, but I could tell he was uncomfortable. He had to tuck his legs in an odd angle. The desks weren’t made for someone so tall.
“Hey,” I said. “If you need to stretch your legs, go ahead and put them under my desk.”
He sat up, his cheeks tinted red. With his black locks against his face and his olive skin, it was really handsome. “I don’t want to be in your way.”
“Don’t sweat it. Stretch your legs out.”
He did, leaning back in his seat until his feet were sticking out from under my desk. I moved my feet until I had one on each side of his legs.
“There,” I said. “No big deal. I’ll just know it’s you down there. If I kick you, I’m sorry.”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “Ditto.”
We sat like that through class. On occasion I would rock my ankle, forgetting he was there. My heel would gently bump into his leg. He didn’t jump like before. At some point I was unconsciously leaning my foot against him. When I realized I was doing it, I froze, unsure if I should move it quickly. I didn’t want to spook him again.
He never said a word about it.
When the bell rang, he walked with me through the hallway. “My next class is near yours,” he said. “Victor’s on his way, right?”
I nodded. “He should be.”
We ended up pushed together on our way up the main stairs. Silas moved me until I was standing in front of him. I didn’t understand why until I noticed how squished we ended up being. I was standing so close to the girl in front of me that I could smell the shampoo in her hair. Silas kept himself so close, that when I had to stop suddenly, his chest bumped into my head.
The stairwell was going to be a problem. Too many students needed to get around it and everyone was in a hurry. Silas kept a hand on my shoulder the entire time and I was grateful for it as I felt unstable. I thought for sure at some point I’d trip and get trampled.
When we were on the second floor and close to my next class, Dr. Green appeared in the hallway right outside the door. “Oh!” he said, looking up and smiling. I relaxed as his gentle gaze caught my eyes. Out of all the teachers I had come across that day, I knew Dr. Green would be my favorite. I remembered how kind he was with me at registration. It seemed strange he would teach a class. He looked the same age as Mr. Blackbourne: nineteen at the most. His soft green eyes lit up with recognition. “Hello, Miss Sorenson. And Silas, you’re not in my class, are you?”
Silas shook his head. “Not this time, doc.”
“It’s a shame,” Dr. Green said. “Learning a third language would look good on a resume.”
“What's the other language you know?” I asked Silas.
“Greek,” he said, his dark eyes sparking.
“You’ve not said one word to me in Greek,” I teased. I was embarrassed that I didn’t know this. I knew he was from Europe but I never got the chance to ask where he was from and while on occasion he did carry an accent, his English was so fluent that I often forgot.
“M'aresei o tropos pos gelas,” he said, and he waved goodbye as he walked on toward his class.
I looked to Dr. Green. “Do you know what he said?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know Greek,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. “But it sounded romantic. Are you two dating?”
I flinched out of surprise. Are teachers supposed to take an interest in students like that? I blushed but shook my head. “Oh no, we’re friends,” I said.
He nodded and adjusted the green tie at his neck. “Ah well.” Was he disappointed or pleased? It was difficult to tell.
I found a couple of desks near the back and took one, putting my bag in the seat behind me for Victor. I was tempted to take the back but the guys seemed to enjoy sitting behind me. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t mind.
He slipped in at the last minute. “I hate the trailers,” he said, moving my book bag out of the seat and to the floor for me.
“Me, too,” I whispered to him.
Dr. Green stood at the front of the class, writing his name in Japanese on the board and wrote it in English below that. “Good afternoon, class,” he said.
I said a soft good afternoon, but no one else in the class joined me.
Dr. Green laughed. “I think my class is missing. Did no one show up today? I’ll have to mark everyone as absent. I believe I said good afternoon.”
The room chorused a low murmuring ‘good afternoon’ in reply.
There was a collective groan. I glanced back at Victor, his fire eyes flickered at me. We already had our partners.
“Groaning is not a word,” Dr. Green said. “In this class, we use our words to express ourselves. And get ready for it. A month from now, we won’t be using English at all. If you can’t say it in formal Japanese, you won’t be able to do anything. That includes permission to leave my classroom.” Dr. Green rocked on his feet in front of the room, a soft smile on his face. “Let’s hope I remember to tell you what the phrase is first...” He shook his head. “But for now, pick a partner. I want you to prepare a list of things you both already know about Japan. I want to see how much my students know about the place we will be studying.”
“What do you know about Japan?” I asked Victor, turning in the seat to face him.
He shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “They grow rice.”
I reached for a notebook and a pen in my bag. “Do you want to write it down?”
“You write,” he said. “Your handwriting is nicer.”
“How would you know?”
“Girls always have nice handwriting.”
I smirked at him, plopping the notebook on his desk. “I want to see yours.”
He took the pen from my hand and wrote something in the notebook. He flipped over the notebook so I could read it.
Japan grows rice.
“It’s not bad,” I said, being honest. I’d read worse. His was legible.
“But you probably write all swirly and with hearts and stuff,” he said, fiddling with the medallion at his neck.
“I don’t use hearts,” I said. “Unless you want me to.” I took the notebook and wrote our names at the top of the page. I used my plainest writing for my own name and wrote his in a girly script, using a heart over the “i”.
