Chapter 309
Arabella Rivera
Gwen placed her elbow on the desk and rest her chin on her open palm while releasing a sigh. “I would so do Mr. Boyd if he’d just asked. I mean look at that sad, miserable, saggy balls old man with the temper of a bulldog. I’m telling you, he’d be a good lay.”
Mr. Boyd was one of those teachers that always woke up on the wrong side of the bed on mornings. His face has always illustrated a man of annoyance who scorned at any moving figure whether animal or not. The only indication that the man ever smiled in his life were the laugh lines infixed on his round face.
Gwen’s head whirls to face me and her blue eyes twinkle. This definitely counted as one of the curses of having the same class with her. We were on fourth period and Gwen had successfully annoyed every teacher possible,
“He only turned forty–five last week,” I gave her a ‘what the fuck‘ look. “That’s not old.” I pointed out, pulled out the notebook from my bag and placed it on the desk.
Gwen rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Five more years to fifty. That’s like halfway to death. He’s old.” She shrugged and smiled dreamily when Mr. Boyd slams the classroom door shut.
The sound reverberates through the four walls of the class, managing to throw a torn poster of a map that had been hanging on for dear life by a single thumbtack. It must feel so relieved right now.
“See, told you he still has it.” Gwen fake shivers and sighs faintly.
Without sparing her a glance, I flipped my notebook and began filling in the tiny white holes with my pencil and murmur blandly. “Yeah, he still has a
wife.”
Gwen huffs. “Mood killer.”
“I assume that is everyone?” Mr. Boyd’s dark blue eyes inspect the entire classroom until they stopped on an empty desk and chair further in the corner all the way at the back of the class. The blue turns the color of the cloudy sky when a storm is nearing.
“One more is missing?” His jaw ticked in irritation when the door he just closed, opens.
T
I don’t bother to look knowing who Mr. Boyd’s cold stare snapped to. “Haiden you’ve already used up all your excuses so don’t even bother. Have a seat and close my dang door.” The gruffness and anger in Mr. Boyd’s voice could surely bend steel.
“Winking boy is here!” Gwen chirps softly beside me and this time I don’t hold back the rolling of my eyes,
“Drop it.” + snapped faintly, annoyed that she would bring it up at the worse possible time. She giggled and throw her palm over her mouth to muffle the sound when Mr.Boyd sent her a steeling glare.
Sadly my eyes decided to betray me once again and I found myself staring at Haiden. He didn’t bother to close the door which only fed Mr. Boyd’s irritation more.
Haiden’s eyes were unmoving, cold and dead as he strides over to the back. So different from the faint flash of warmth I saw in the hallway earlier.
For a second, just a second, I felt intrigued to know why he had such cold and unfeeling eyes. That is until I remembered what transpired between us in the hallway. The little spark of interest died when I/quickly blew it out.
Knowing he had to pass beside me, I froze, tearing my eyes away from the intimidating boy. I was not afraid of Haiden. Still, he didn’t have to try much to intimidate someone. His mere height and size did that for him.
The tiny and thin barely visible hairs on my pale arms stood up and goosebumps surfaces on my skin as the scent of cigarettes and mint hit me. I lift my eyes, tongue–tied when Haiden’s eyes fall on me. My mouth runs dry and something flashes within the depths of his eyes.
My limbs all of a sudden turned languid and as though not having the strength to hold the pencil between my fingers anymore, it falls out of my hand and rolls down to the floor. Haiden’s eyes tear away from me and a tiny grin emerges on his face.
1/2
08:23 Wed, 20 Aug
Chapter 309
“We don’t have all day Cross.” Mr. Boyd says with fury rolling in his tone.
Even with an angry teacher shooting furious arrows his way, Haiden didn’t seem to care. His cool and collected manner only added to his ‘bad boy charm. Only that it wasn’t a charm, well for me that is. It was more so as an annoyance.
When he is beside me his boots step atop the pencil and he halts. My heart jerks in my chest. Why was I so nervous all of a sudden? Was it that I was partly scared that he’d embarrass me in front of the entire class?
My palm press on the back of my notebook as Haiden removes his foot off the pencil and crouches down. I looked at the front, my face impassive as swallowed. My pulse race when I felt him place the pencil on my hand.
“You dropped this.” His voice held a fleck of mirth.
I quickly grasp it murmuring a quick thanks. Haiden continues on his way and the arrogance follows him like an attached ghost. Only that one can spot that ghost a mile away.
Mr. Boyd slammed some books on the desk, his face red with irritation that seemed to be rearing more and more. “Now that everyone is here and seated-” His eyes hardening gaze flicks over to Haiden as he snaps. “We can finally start.”
Gwen leans closer to me, murmuring softly as to not let Mr. Boyd’s anger snap to her. “I am watching you closely Rivera.
I definitely knew what she was implying at. She wanted answers. Answers I wasn’t sure I could give. Not when I myself didn’t know what was going on. Yesterday Haiden and I were more like strangers and I was certain that he didn’t even know I had been his neighbor for years. What changed?
“Majority of you are behind in this class.” Mr. Boyd’s eyes flick over to Haiden and sent him a sharp pointed look that was not even in the slightest subtle. “Which is exactly why I need to see your weak points so we could come up with a solution to help you get better.”
His blue–eyes scan the room. “Lost, love, hope. Good poetry isn’t what we think, it is what one feels. You can’t write a piece if it doesn’t move you, make you feel. When it does-” For a shocking second Mr. Boyds lips tilted into a smile, as though recalling a good memory in his head. “Then that’s good poetry.”
He clears his throat and grabs a handful of papers and starts to distribute them around. Gwen groans beside me and I bit my lip to stifle the giggle that wanted to come out. “This is to help you get a better understanding of poetry. I want you to read each piece carefully. Take notes because your assignment is to write your very own piece on any human emotion.” He slides the paper on my desk.
“It’s due tomorrow at 8 a.m sharp. Late entries will get their marks deducted.” He grumbles out. Everyone groaned. Philip, a plump dark–haired boy whines. “Sir it’s only the first day.”
But of course Mr. Boyd ignored him like the fly that had been crawling on his cheek a second ago.
“Oh and one more thing. It’s ten percent of your term grade.”
Gwen grumbles. “I change my mind, he won’t be a good lay after all.”
AL
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