The War Between Us : Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

I put my new Maths books into my locker.
As I slam it shut, something unidentifiable knocks me straight in the face.

Books fall from my hands and I fall harshly to the ground.
Students walking around me look around – at me on the ground.

Great, just what I’ve always wanted. A publicity moment.

I look up wearily.
A mole-skin-haired boy with his back turned to me was riffling through his locker.
Obviously, he doesn’t notice me lying at his feet.

I groan suddenly, putting a hand to my forehead – and then he turns around.

His clear grey eyes grow large as he realizes that he had slammed open his locker in my face.
He doesn’t say anything, he just gives me a hand – and dizzy as I may be, I grasp it and he pulls me up.

I lean against the locker tiredly and I watch as he picks up some of my books.
I quickly bend down and pick up some of my things too.

He looks up and meets my eyes, as we crouch on the ground.

I discern that his eyes aren’t grey – like the sidewalks in New York – but a bright dark blue.
He grins at me – and I smile wanly as we both stand up again.

I take my stuff from him – pushing my dark bangs out of my face.

I could feel peoples gazes on my back – but I ignore them.
“I’m Cindy Varde” I say, smiling.

He says, “Justin Jacob – sorry, I hit you in the head didn’t I?”

I laugh clearly as we walk along the hallway.

“Yes, you did”, I admit amusingly.

He grins again and he stops as we reach a door.
Looking up, I see its room 618 – and I needed to get to room 534, my Bio class was beginning shortly.

“Well, see you then, Cindy”, he says, indicating with his thumb that he needed to be in room 618.

I wave, smiling, “Yeah, I need to go too.”
I roll my eyes signaling without words that how it sucked that they had classes.
He laughs and walks into class – waving back at me.

As I walk away, I grin.
Maybe this school wasn’t that bad after all.
Maybe.

Hurrying, I run all the way to room 534, knowing I was late.

Great time to be late – just when you attend your first ever classes in a school, where the teacher needs to get a good impression of you.

Panting – and my chest heaving – I lean against the wall next to room 534, as I reach it, trying to regain my breath.
Inhaling deeply, I turn and I walk into room 534, pushing open the brown door.

A man at the front of the classroom with curly brown hair and a tense expression on his face, as though he was on a fit of hysteria, looked around – and so did most of the class.

He went, “Oh, oh – so, you’re, you’re Miss- Miss” he stammers and I help him out.

“Varde. Cindy Varde”.

“Ah, yes!” he says quickly enthusiastic. Picking up his class list, he skims it hurriedly and continued again, “Ah, ah, yes – Cinderelle Varde, isn’t it?”

I try not to scowl. I hate it when anyone calls me Cinderelle. It sounds exactly like Cinderella and I do not want to be connected with anything of that awful cartoon-ish character of a princess.
Ew.

“Um, yeah.” I say uncomfortably.
Hello – the whole class is watching me!

“Okay, okay – “, the teacher, Mr. Simon, the nametag reads, grabs another paper and reads from it quickly, “Melanie Granger and Daniel Harrington… Simonella Tipton and Henry Jaller… no, not that one… Cassandra Viller and Marty Baxen… no…”

I wonder how long it would be until he reads my name out of that list – of Biology partners, I understand immediately – and then he says it.

“Cinderelle Varde and Mark Wilcox!”

I look up as he indicates with a finger to somewhere in the middle row.

Walking over, I seat myself next to a boy.
A handsome boy.
A blond, handsome boy.
Unfortunately, I’ve learned not to trust that kind of specimen of boys.
No.
Definitely not the blond, handsome ones.