Chapter 3: Transferee
Fascinating.
The boy had such beautiful eyes I can't seem to get it off my head. I reached out and touched his face and he just stared at me like I hadn't been weird enough gawking while I was literally on top of him. Glinting emerald and cold sapphire eyes returned my gaze.
He had such soft glowing skin as smooth as porcelain; his hair was a messy flaming blonde-orange it reminded me of wild bushfires. My gaze lowered to his nose, small almost invisible freckles adorned the bridge and spread to his flushed cheeks like they were painted by a child randomly flicking the brush with left-over paint. The tiny dots reminded me of a famous painting by some dead bastard. What was that again? Ah yes, Starry Night. They looked like speckles of stars spread across the confinement of a boy's angelic face. I feel like I would be lost and drift away if I look at it for too long.
Really pretty.
Going a bit lower, his lips looked so soft and plump I want to touch it with my own. His jaws were perfectly angled like they were sculpted by God himself. Soft yet masculine enough to evoke a girl's inner pleasures. The tip of his chin had a slight division you can't quite see unless you get up close as I have now. Perhaps this boy was an angel sent down to purge all of humankind.
His body tensed as I remained perfectly still on top of him. He had worn a white Buck Mason shirt under a PWR Storm Retro Hoodie, and his left air pod was missing. It was probably lost it during the collision a while ago.
Holy shit this boy is screaming all kinds of wow and I just crashed into him first thing in the morning.
There is only one thing I could do in this moment that can save me from embarrassment.
Well, at least keep the embarrassment to a minimum.
I spontaneously started to cry.
A girl crying is a sure-fire way to disconcert a boy. He would think that it was his fault even if it wasn't and the whole class will follow suit being as it is comprised surprisingly with more males than females. The less popular males - 'nerds' and 'cast-outs' if you call them – like the fools as they were, started to comfort me.
"Missy are you alright?"
"Transfer kid, you made Missy cry what the fuck dude."
"You are a terrible person dude."
The boy looked at me and panic slowly creeped into him as he realized I was sobbing my eyes out in front of the whole class to see. Or maybe because my tears started to mix with snot and it was dripping on his branded shirt.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to crash into you." Little tears. Cry. Sniff. Cry some more. "I'm so sorry."
"Dude she already said sorry, you should say something." Another guy said. It was one of the jocks. The more brawn and less brain type. Wow the power of tears is really something.
The whole class began to chatter in a steady hush of gossips and backstabbing green-eyed bitches were at the forefront. Shara Smith who never backed down on a good gossip was the leader of the bitch clique. We were so called 'friends' but a good gossip is a good gossip whoever the subject was.
Bring it on bitch, it's not like I don't have leverage. People always take my side when I want them to. Lie or truth it doesn't make a difference. Once you learn to do it correctly, everybody will dance at the tip of your fingers. Just as much as the idiots who took my side by the mere sight of tears even if it was my fault.
I slowly picked myself, got up, and continued my faked cry to get the sympathy of the class and this boy. He wasn't budging from his position for a few seconds I nearly thought he froze from the shock of a teenage girl who cries for no good reason.
The teacher could have been behind us for a while now but we didn't know.
We heard someone cleared their throat as if reminding that they exist and asking subtly what the fuck was going on with all the commotion and drama.
I turned to see that it was Ms. Joanne, the World History and Geography teacher. She loves everything before the 19th century and was very much of a weirdo.
"Children what do we have here? Classes are about to start, do not dilly-dally and go back to your seats." See what I mean? She's pretty nuts. "What are you waiting for? Pip-pip toodle-ooo go on now."
She shooed the crowd away from the front of the room and looked at the both of us. A boy whose shirt was drenched in fake tears and snot, and a girl whose faking it 'til she makes it.
"Ms. Collins? Go on now back to your seats the lot of you. Oh, and we have a new kid here let's see… ah yes you are. You dear stay here at the front."
Everybody proceeded to their seats and I picked out the only available at the farthest back next to another vacant seat. This is the reason why I didn't like to be late. I get to have the least liked seat.
"Transferee come on at the front and introduce yourself." Ms. Joanne called out.
He looked at the class then his gazed trailed towards me, our eyes locked.
"I'm Finn Crosby, 17. From South of Ireland." He said with a fascinating outlandish slang and flowing, musical intonations. "Nice to meet you all."
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