by Arden, Mari
That's when I notice the air of authority around Rhys.
I straighten, observing his stance, and the control in his body. He reminds me of an uncoiled snake, low and disguised, but hiding something lethal. Rhys' head is bent, but I notice his eyes scan his surroundings even as he listens to Dr. Bingham. Our principal nods a few times as Rhys talks, then looks up.
"All right then," he says in an irritated voice, stepping back from a conversation I have no doubt Rhys dominated. "Have a good Monday." With those parting words, Dr. Bingham leads the small group of people away. When the door shuts there is an uncomfortable silence as we try to absorb Rhys presence. The room feels too small, the air too tight to hold a force like him. When he moves, we shrink back, not from fear but from awe.
Someone clears her throat. "Mr. Bernard?" Arianna raises her hand shyly. "Rhys can sit by me if he wants," she offers. Mr. Bernard agrees, happy for a course of action.
"Yes, why don't you do that, Rhys?" He looks at Daniel. "Turn it on again. We'll be able to finish today." Daniel presses the button and within a second the Capulets are back on screen. This time everyone is awake. It has everything to do with Rhys. Every person is aware of the smooth gait of his body as he moves closer to Arianna. His movements are a combination of fluid motions that are unnatural to observe. Rhys smiles at Arianna, and any girl who sees it grins back, never mind that it wasn't meant for them. He slides into the seat next to her like it's something he's done before. The excited tension in the air is so thick I can taste it in my throat. Insecure stares from the boys. Secrets glances and giddy body language from the girls. It's all mixing together like a heady aphrodisiac.
Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
Empty desks surround me, but Rhys is closest, sitting two rows ahead and to the right. I try to focus, but my eyes wander to him, noticing the width of his shoulders, and the way the material of his shirt stretches to accommodate his large frame. His eyelashes are so thick I see the black color from where I sit. I can’t stop devouring him with my eyes. When I realize I'm acting like a creepy stalker, my hands literally force my head to turn back to the screen. The prince is finishing the final scene.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
I feel a tingling on the side of my face, as if someone is staring. That's unusual. The seconds tick by, and the feeling remains. Restlessness unfurls in my belly. I turn my head.
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
Glowing eyes meet my mine head on. I gasp.
Rhys is looking at me.
His stare lingers for a second more, then his eyelashes flutter down. The moment is broken, and it passes, as if it'd never happened at all. But I know it was real. I can't contain the sudden pounding in my heart.
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
I'm not invisible.
He's seen me.
Chapter 3
The reporters and cameramen are visible within a mile of the school. National and local news vans line the streets like spectators waiting for a parade. My rusty 1997 Toyota Camry is nothing fantastic to look at. I'm embarrassed driving by as photographers click away.
I press the brakes hard as the car in front of me makes a sudden stop. I'd been within a mile of the school for the at least ten minutes. Turtles moved faster than we are. I understand that we're the first school on earth to have alien students, but really, is all this necessary? Another bright light flashes between my eyes as a picture is taken. I guess that answers my question, I think.
By the time I arrive at school, my face is flushed with irritation. The parking lot was full, and I had to drive and park on the street. I ended up trying to power walk three blocks with three textbooks on my back. Over forty-five minutes late, I concede that it's not the greatest start to my morning.
I notice a line at the front entrance. Men dressed in blue security suits are checking backpacks and bags. I even see one of those hand held metal detectors they use at sport games. Is this going to happen everyday? I wonder. A couple dozen students are waiting to get inside, but they don't seem to mind much. They're probably just happy to miss part of first hour. I'm barely inside the doors when a voice drifts to me.
"I wonder if they're here yet," someone says from behind.
"Probably not. Did you see all the reporters out there? They're still here because they haven't gotten their story yet," a louder voice answers.
"God, did you see the guy, Steph? Hubba, hubba."
"Delish," the second voice agrees. "His name's Rhys, I heard."
"Rhys." She says it with a sigh. "I don't know how I'm going to focus if he's in a class of mine. I'd-" Her voice cuts off as she bumps into me.
"Oh! Sorry. I didn't see you," she apologizes. Her brown eyes are wide.
Embarrassed, I give a small, fake smile. "It's ok," I assure them in the I-don't-care-everything-is-normal voice that I'd spent years mastering.
They walk around and ahead of me. "I swear I didn't see anyone ahead of us…" her voice trails off as the pair moves further away.
I wonder if I stood glued to this one spot, how many people wouldn't "see" and bump into me? What if I start line dancing with my backpack on top of my head? I think sarcastically. How many people would notice then? I'm angry enough to try it, but Dr. Bingham's voice booms over the loudspeaker, trampling any idiotic ideas I considered pursuing.
"Students, please report to first hour immediately. There will be no loitering in the hallways. Attendance will be taken promptly at 8:20 am." The principal's nasally voice repeats the announcement once more before a loud clicking sound is heard from behind. Then another. And another, until a hoard of snapping sounds spill inside through the doors.
Cameras.
They'd arrived.
I don't bother to turn around to catch the action. What's the point? I'd probably be trampled to death before anyone realized I was there. Eager whispers and animated excitement ripples through the crowd of students. Ignoring the heightened energy, I take advantage of everyone looking back to sidle to the front of the line.
"Open your backpack, please," the security man says in a bored voice. In a hurry, I do so. I'm ok, until I notice his eyes traveling over a bright, mint green wrapping. My cheeks heat up at the feminine product in my bag. How was I to know there'd be a man rummaging through my bag today? His fingers find a half eaten Twix bar, and an unopened Cheez- it pack, before he finally looks up.
"You're good," he says.
I lift one backpack strap onto my shoulder, and rush away, zipping the bag as I walk. Note to self: hide everything embarrassing ASAP!
The classroom door creaks as I slide it open, and a few sets of eyes drift over. When they see who it is, they turn back to the TV, bored. AP English Literature is in full swing by the time I come. Walking over to Mr. Bernard, I whisper my name, "Kenna Parker."
He lifts a hand to his ear. "Eh?" I point to my name on his clipboard. He writes a checkmark beside Kenna Parker and adds a "T" to indicate tardy. For a split second, I debate whether I should point out technically I'm on time, but due to external circumstances such as new alien students, I was forced to be late. I decide it's not worth it, and find a seat. A third of the chairs are empty. It doesn't surprise me that some of the students made an opportunity of this momentous occasion, and skipped school. I might've also, but I had to do a cooking demo in Home Economics, and to put it bluntly: I'm bored at home. There's no one to keep me company but a hung over father, and an overly quiet house. Yes, unfortunately, given a choice, I would choose school every time.
The lights are dim because we're watching Romeo and Juliet. It would've been a nice movie had we been watching the Leonardo DiCaprio version, but we're stuck with a movie from 1968. It was so old some of our parents weren't eve
n born yet when it was released. Mr. Bernard had been a young man when this movie first came out, so he didn't seem to notice or care what we thought. Last week he'd spent a good fifteen minutes setting up the old VHS player to accommodate the ancient tape. I wonder how long it'd taken him today.
"O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die."
Juliet's frantic words are said with such desperation I pause to look at the screen on my way to my seat. The intensity in which Juliet stares at the blade she holds leaves me with a disconcerted feeling. I understand her anguish.
I go straight for my usual seat at the back of the room. Even when I'm in the middle of a group, I have a way of making people forget me. At least, that's what it feels like. I hate it, but I can't make someone see me if they don't want to.
A loud snore covers up the sound my backpack makes as it slips from my shoulder onto the floor. I want to sleep too, but I know Mr. Bernard will be planning a pop quiz on the movie tomorrow. It's what he always does, but half the room is dozing off and appears to have forgotten this pattern. Instead I cushion my cheek with my hand, propping my suddenly tired head up. I felt fine seconds earlier, but something about this movie is sucking my energy dry.
The birthmark on my finger itches, and I scratch it. The reddish brown stain starts from base of my thumb on my palm to the tip of my index finger. It's an unusual looking mark, and it's been itching a lot lately.
"What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest..?"
My eyes wander to the window beside me. It's hard to resist looking out. Now that fall is here I like to watch the leaves twirl, settling aimlessly about. It's mundane, thoughtless, yet every second soothes me. Today large vans and foreign looking cars line the streets obstructing my view. I stare, but few leaves are falling. Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me to pay better attention to the movie.
A loud knock interrupts my thoughts. Dr. Bingham strolls in looking nervous, and a little agitated. Someone immediately turns on the lights, and it floods the room, forcing a few heads to look up, dazed.
"Daniel! The movie," Mr. Bernard waves at it. A blonde haired boy in the front row jumps up and grabs a black remote. He presses a button, pausing it.
"This is the button for pausing, Mr. Bernard," Daniel explains patiently, showing him. The person ahead of me snickers softly. Dr. Bingham stands at the front, clapping loudly to get everyone's attention.
"We have a new student joining your class today," he begins with a small smile. He gestures to the people at the door. It's then I notice what appear to be two secret servicemen, the assistant principal, and two other official looking men. As if on cue, the two security men part and our first alien student walks in.
Rhys.
Again, the dreamy sighs I first heard when they landed are reenacted within milliseconds of his arrival. It somehow sounds just as loud as before even though only ten female students are in the room. Dr. Bingham seems a little embarrassed by the sighs. His neck gets red, but he keeps his eyes on us. Having the hots for an alien is still a novel idea for many people on earth. I'm not even sure if it's physically possible to do anything about it.
Rhys's eyes seemed to glow less in the light. In front of us, they just look abnormally bright. If you scan past him briefly, you might not even notice it. But it'd be impossible to pass over him quickly. His physical beauty is too seductive to ignore, and even though I'm far away, I blush. Biologically we're supposed to notice differences like disfigurement or deformity, but the human eye notices something else too; it notices perfection. Morning sunlight reveals a face that is perfectly symmetrical. This is something no camera can capture; you have to experience it to understand.
He's dressed in dark jeans and a plain forest green shirt that contrasts the olive tones in his skin. The clothes are simple and clean, but he wears them like they've been made for him.
"This is Rhys, er, Doe," Dr. Bingham continues. "Rhys Doe," he repeats more forcefully. I nod in understanding. Like John Doe. Maybe aliens don't have last names. I'm suddenly curious if I'm right.
"He will be here for the rest of the semester with us. Please do your best to follow the guidelines we sent home earlier this month," Dr. Bingham reminds us. The "guidelines" he's referring to was a letter of information detailing what we could discuss with our new "planetary exchange students." The list included human culture, language, foods, music, fashion, and media. It asked students to defer from asking "deep, personal questions" that could threaten national or Saguinox security.
"Welcome," Mr. Bernard greets in a forcefully cheerful voice. It's obvious he has no idea how to handle the new events unfolding in the world, like having an alien student, but he's willing to make the most of it. Maybe that's why the national government chose Minnesota. Minnesota nice extended to extraterrestrial creatures, too.
"Well, um, take a seat." He gestures to the rows of empty chairs. His white hair looks whiter next to Rhys' ebony colored head. "We were just watching a very famous story called 'Romeo and Juliet'. It's, er, a human story about love." Then he looks at Dr. Bingham as if he's suddenly realized something. "Does he need an inter-?"Again, Mr. Bernard stops, not wanting to embarrass his new student.
Immediately, Rhys replies, "I don't need an interpreter. I am still learning your language, but I have been studying it and your culture for many years. If I need help, I know how to ask," Rhys replies. His voice is smooth, syrupy, and holds a hint of an accent I can't place. Well, duh, I abruptly think to myself. His accents from outer space!
"Oh, great. Good," Mr. Bernard sounds relieved. "Well, welcome again, and take a seat."
"If you need anything, let us know," Dr. Bingham tells Rhys. "They," he gestures to the security, "will stay and-"
"That won't be necessary," Rhys gives him a polite smile. "I'm sure they have other things to do that will be more… beneficial. I think I can take care of myself." His voice is low, but every person including me, strains to hear his conversation. Maybe he notices because his voice gets softer, and I can't hear anything from the back. An older gentleman from the group at the entrance steps forward to protest, but Rhys raises a commanding hand, and he stops.
That's when I notice the air of authority around Rhys.
I straighten, observing his stance, and the control in his body. He reminds me of an uncoiled snake, low and disguised, but hiding something lethal. Rhys' head is bent, but I notice his eyes scan his surroundings even as he listens to Dr. Bingham. Our principal nods a few times as Rhys talks, then looks up.
"All right then," he says in an irritated voice, stepping back from a conversation I have no doubt Rhys dominated. "Have a good Monday." With those parting words, Dr. Bingham leads the small group of people away. When the door shuts there is an uncomfortable silence as we try to absorb Rhys presence. The room feels too small, the air too tight to hold a force like him. When he moves, we shrink back, not from fear but from awe.
Someone clears her throat. "Mr. Bernard?" Arianna raises her hand shyly. "Rhys can sit by me if he wants," she offers. Mr. Bernard agrees, happy for a course of action.
"Yes, why don't you do that, Rhys?" He looks at Daniel. "Turn it on again. We'll be able to finish today." Daniel presses the button and within a second the Capulets are back on screen. This time everyone is awake. It has everything to do with Rhys. Every person is aware of the smooth gait of his body as he moves closer to Arianna. His movements are a combination of fluid motions that are unnatural to observe. Rhys smiles at Arianna, and any girl who sees it grins back, never mind that it wasn't meant for them. He slides into the seat next to her like it's something he's done before. The excited tension in the air is so thick I can taste it in my throat. Insecure stares from the boys. Secrets glances and giddy body language from the girls. It's all mixing together like a heady aphrodisiac.
Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
Empty desks surround me, but Rhys is closest, sitting two rows ahead and to the right. I try to focus, but my eyes wander to him, noticing the width of his shoulders, and the way the material of his shirt stretches to accommodate his large frame. His eyelashes are so thick I see the black color from where I sit. I can’t stop devouring him with my eyes. When I realize I'm acting like a creepy stalker, my hands literally force my head to turn back to the screen. The prince is finishing the final scene.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
I feel a tingling on the side of my face, as if someone is staring. That's unusual. The seconds tick by, and the feeling remains. Restlessness unfurls in my belly. I turn my head.
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
Glowing eyes meet my mine head on. I gasp.
Rhys is looking at me.
His stare lingers for a second more, then his eyelashes flutter down. The moment is broken, and it passes, as if it'd never happened at all. But I know it was real. I can't contain the sudden pounding in my heart.
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
I'm not invisible.
He's seen me.
Chapter 4
When I leave Mr. Bernard's class the hallway is crowded. School staff monitors traffic flow in full force. A teacher is standing every few feet calling out students, giving reminders, and trying as hard as the students not to stare at the reporters, bodyguards and government officials that have suddenly descended on Morrison High School.
Snap, snap, snap.
Everywhere I look people are taking pictures. Some carry small cameras, and others are pulling out their camera phones snapping pictures of things like the chair Rhys had sat on and the pencil he'd left behind. Earlier a bodyguard had come to get him five minutes before the dismissal bell rang. We all pretended we hadn't noticed him leaving, but the second he shut the door I heard a collective sigh like nervous tension being released.
