Origins: The Fire (MILA 2.0, #0.5)(11)
Hunter’s head whipped up. I had a sudden impression of a deer in the headlights. I guess the idea of two more girls converging on him was too much to bear. Not that I could blame him, I thought, watching Parker flounce over in skinny jeans, while Ella trotted her shorter legs to keep up. It was kind of like watching a pack of piranhas descend on a particularly tasty fish.
“My classroom,” Hunter said, before breaking free and loping ahead.
“Hey, will we see you at lunch?” Kaylee called after him.
He mumbled something about “dunno—forms to fill out” before escaping to the sanctuary of Room 132.
The instant he disappeared around the corner, Kaylee turned on the girls with a fierce scowl. “Less obvious next time, okay?”
I blinked. How could they be any more obvious than Kaylee herself?
But I held my tongue as Kaylee launched into a blow-by-blow of our march down the hall, instead following Hunter’s lead and slipping away to my class. Only, unlike with Hunter, I don’t think anyone noticed.
Until Parker pulled away from the group and followed me, a sly smile on her face. While I paused in surprise, she leaned in close, like she wanted to share something special.
Oh, it was special, all right. “See that?” she whispered, wiggling her fingers at someone in greeting. Even when she was talking to me, I didn’t have her full attention. “It’s happening already. Kaylee’s interest in new toys only lasts so long. You got extra mileage because you were from out of town, but now that Hunter’s around…”
She straightened, and her smile widened into a careless grin. “Let’s just say I’ll give you a week, tops, before you’re sitting at your own lunch table in the corner. Even less if you keep looking at Hunter like that. Kaylee doesn’t like to share.”
And then, with a satisfied sigh, she whirled and disappeared down the hall.
I shook my head and entered my classroom, wondering for the billionth time what Kaylee saw in her.
FOUR
When the lunch bell rang, I decided to ditch the hordes of ravenous students and head outside. Even on a good day, I hated the cafeteria, with its crowds and fluorescent glare—every time I walked inside, I instantly felt on display. And after Parker’s extreme cattiness earlier, well…let’s just say my enthusiasm for group dining had fallen to an all-time low.
I reached the door that led to my escape path, to the lone bench in the completely ignored courtyard. No other kids to deal with there, just a patch of grass, three overgrown trees, and a slightly lopsided rendition of the school’s cartoon lion mascot.
When I pushed open the door, frigid air blasted my cheeks. The news had called for an uncharacteristically dreary fall week, and so far, the weather was cooperating. A bonus for me, since chill and drizzle never bothered me but seemed to lock the rest of the student body inside.
Well, all except for one.
The door clattered shut behind me, a noise that announced my arrival with gunshot subtlety to the lone figure commandeering my spot.
I inspected him from behind drooping tree branches, completely conscious of the curious eyes peering back at me through a kaleidoscope of red-orange-brown. Hunter didn’t sit on the bench like a normal person. Instead he perched on top of the backrest, his feet planted against the blue boards that made up the seat. His jacket hood was pulled up over his head, his elbows balanced on his knees. Cradled between his hands was a battered comic. So much for those papers he had to fill out.
Okay…now what? I scanned the tiny oval courtyard for potential escape routes, for any other seating destination that wouldn’t make me look like a giant stalker. But there was nothing, unless I fancied sitting on the wet grass or the dirty and equally wet concrete—neither of which were particularly tempting.
Just when I’d decided that waving and then bolting for the door would be my least embarrassing option, Hunter spoke from beneath his olive hood.
“Did I steal your spot?”
“Technically, no. I mean, it’s not my spot. It belongs to the school.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. Wow. Okay, so yes, technically my words were true, but that didn’t mean I had to go all dork and say them.
Hunter’s soft laugh floated through the courtyard, loosening the knot in my stomach. A second later, my laugh joined his. “I come out here to get away sometimes, but obviously you were here first, so I’ll just leave,” I said.
He scooted over to the far edge of the bench, leaving a gaping expanse of blue wood on the side closest to me. “Plenty of room.”
I caught my lower lip with my teeth. Tempting. Especially considering the alternative—the sense of isolation that ironically grew more pronounced in a crowd. “You sure?”
He shrugged, a rise and fall of broad shoulders meant to convey disinterest. Only his fingers gave him away. They drummed against his knee, hinting at whatever lurked beneath his seemingly apathetic exterior. That tiny burst of motion—of lean, restless fingers striking worn denim— somehow demoted him from intimidating to approachable.
I remembered the way he’d stared out the window in homeroom, his quiet contemplation a huge contrast to the loud voices that echoed throughout the hallways.
“Okay.” I ducked under the tree branch and followed the brick-lined path to the bench. No big deal. I’d sit on my edge of the bench, he’d stay on his, and we’d ignore each other.