Page 4 of Ominous: Part 1
My stuff is scattered over it anyhow, so I reason with myself I’ll have to clear it, which is a perfectly normal thing to do, even as my anxious brain screams at me I’ve just made a fool of myself by walking off without him.
I push the fear aside and pluck up three green highlighters, a green pen, and shove my notebook in front of one seat, instead of the two it was flipped horizontally between. Quickly sweeping offElements of Style, The Kybalion, and my romance-filled Kindle from the table, I hide them in my bag. Yanking the checkered black and blue backpack from the padded wooden seat, I drop it to the floor. My hands are shaky, nervousness flowing through me, and I’m grateful I can finally sit, skirting around the table and dropping down as slowly and as gracefully as I can. Even so, my movements feel too big, my body too hot, and my thighs splay against the seat cushion, so I scoot myself up closer to the table, setting down my pens, all but one, for something to do with my hands.
I am five foot two, and yet I’ve always felt as if I take up too much space. Like, maybe if I was just a little more sophisticated, a little more polite, the world wouldn’t mind me so much. But some days, my brain can be my worst enemy, and I don’t think I’ll ever be any of those things.
For a second, I think the boy hasn’t followed at all. I heard nothing behind me, save for my own pulse in my ears, and I didn’t once look up. Now, with no other choice, I do, and I almost flinch to see him standing across from me, the book still in his hand, his other curled around the back of the chair he’s standing behind, veins stark against his tanned skin.
I crush my fingers around my pen, resting my wrist on the table and crossing one leg over the other, the faux leather of my pants swishing together with the contact.
“Don’t worry,” I say, glancing at him, then away, nerves tumbling in my veins. “I won’t bite.”Hard,anyway. My pulse skips a beat, and I’m pleased with my own bravado. “You can sit.”
He runs his tongue over the underside of his teeth with interest as he stares at me, like he knows what I’m thinking. What I didn’t say.
“I’m Eli, by the way.” His voice is low and extremely polite.
“Yes, I know.”Everyone knows who you are, don’t they?
He holds my gaze, and I wonder if he’s waiting for my name in return. I should give it, but I don’t. The dark emerald of his eyes, the thickness of his lashes, flashbacks to fantasies I’ve had watching him in class…
Heat flares in my body. I drop my gaze. I need to check the time because my curfew is ten and I do really need to get the book I was looking for and—
Gracefully, every movement eloquent, he pulls back the chair and sits down, bending at the waist just slightly before he makes contact with the seat. I don’t know how someone can make every move of theirs so fluid and ethereal. It seems a little unfair.
“Studying for our exam tomorrow?” he asks me, hand still on top of his book, the other in his lap. He curves a single, dark brow the same way only one side of his mouth tips into a smile.
I’m so busy staring at the unevenness of it, the way he’s feigning politeness, it takes me a few, long seconds to process his question.
The heat in my body grows hotter. Sweltering. Trafalgar is a relatively cool campus inside. The library even colder. Sometimes I bring a hoodie, but tonight I left it in my locker and I’m grateful I did. If I’d had it on, I would currently combust.
“Exam?” We only have Latin together, and unless I’ve completely forgotten—
“Oh, sorry.” Eli lowers his gaze to the table for a second, shaking his head. “I… I should’ve told you from the start. You’re new to Ms. Romano’s classes, right?” He peers at me from under long, thick lashes, like he’s genuinely confirming and slightly embarrassed we’re not on the same page.
Confusion brings me out of my nervous state. My grip relaxes a little on the pen and I’m no longer concerned I’m going to break it in half. “Yeah… and she didn’t mention an exam.” I would’ve remembered if she had. I need to ace every test here.
Eli sits up straighter, sighing as he does, like an apology in advance for what he’s going to say. “She gives one every third week. Unannounced.”
I pored over the syllabus for each course, and nothing about surprise tests were there.
Then again, I was only able to transfer my senior year because we moved from Wilmington, so maybe I’mthe only one who doesn’t know, and she just forgot about me.
“Relocation for employment,” the admission’s advisor jotted down with a swift, momentary glare at my mom that seemed to demand,why couldn’t you wait one more year for her to finish?
We didn’t discuss what happened at Shoreside High. I didn’t have to disclose it.It was only a suspension.
Besides, I never asked Mom to wait. Reece got a new job at his brother’s tech firm, able to take on Mom’s share of the bills until she relocated her cleaning business too, and I was fine with leaving, after what happened at my old school.
Reece’s brother mentioned Trafalgar, his Raleigh-based IT company hires some of the donors, and I applied with his reference.
My closest friend from Shoreside, Amanda, I’ve kept up with through texts, but they’ve died off, fewer and fewer every week. After what happened… I don’t really want any reminders of the day I lost my mind.
The only thing I’m attached to is my dreams. Even those, some days, start to slip from my grasp.
“It’s not too in-depth,” Eli continues, and I can tell from his tone he’s trying to soothe my nerves. It must show in my face how much these grades matter to me. I’m waiting until the cut-off to send in college applications solely so I can have straight As from Trafalgar and my AP classes lit up like a shiny beacon on my transcript, burying the shadows of my past school record. “Ten questions, max.” His gaze searches mine as his fingers curl over the edge of the book he brought with him from the aisle. One of his rings is a skull.How edgy.“The way you read out loud in class…” Another lopsided smile graces his lips. “You’re going to nail it.”
My sarcastic thoughts aside, I feel lightheaded with his words.When I read out loud in class…It’s my least favorite part of Latin, reading aloud. A dead language, I don’t know why we even need to pronounce any of it, but Ms. Romano ensures we each have a turn every day we’re in her class to speak it. I never knew Eli paid any attention when I read. I’ve never once seen him turn to look at me stumbling over the text.
I took Latin my freshman year of high school, back in Wilmington at Shoreside. A fluke, bizarre course only offered once, I was fascinated with it. It’s how I managed to get intothisLatin class, but my skills are poor. In fact, it’s the course I study for most.
