Cherry Chapter Fourteen

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Forty five minutes.

In forty five minutes, I will have survived my first week of school at Fort Sangrey High.  And, despite my initial concerns that I’d be some novelty attraction all of the kids wanted to gawk at before they rudely dismissed, I’d even managed to emerge from week one with a friend.  Two, if I wanted to count Gryphon, who I’d technically befriended before school started.

I risked a subtle glance at the desk behind me, where Gryphon was sitting and staring out the window to his left, seemingly lost in thought.  We were in World History, our last period class, and the only class Gryphon and I happened to share.  Apart from our trips to and from school, I hardly saw him during the day.  

At my insistence, he’d returned to his normal routine of having lunch with Samuel and his other friends, and I’d made myself comfortable with London and her small clique of unique individuals.  Sera, Lottie, and Faith were a laugh a minute, and all three seemed mildly fascinated by my city origins and my accent, which I continuously denied I had.  

They’d tried diligently to teach me the art of saying ‘Ya’ll’ and ‘Folks’ with just the right amount of drawl, but judging by their fits of laughter at my attempts, I was still a long way off correct pronunciation.  

Like he could sense a pair of eyes on him, Gryphon cranked his head back around, and when our gazes locked a small smile curved his lips upwards.  He raised an eyebrow in question, but I shook my head and refocused my efforts on our teacher, Mr. Fitzpatrick.  He was enraptured by the ancient Greek text he was reading from, so passionate in his reading that each word leaving his lips was rushed and breathless.

After every second sentence, Mr. Fitzpatrick reached up with his free hand to pat his greying hair, almost like he was certain his barely contained excitement was about to get away from him and make an escape through the top of his head.  Unable to stand still, he paced the front of the room, and his fierce concentration made me wonder if he’d actually forgotten he had a class full of students.

Not that anyone was bothered.  It was Friday afternoon.  Most people were giving the clock over the classroom door more attention than our teacher, watching the seconds tick by and therefore bringing us that much closer to our long awaited weekend.  Those who weren’t obsessed with the time were snoozing with their heads laid out on their desks.

I’d caught sight of Gryphon’s sketchpad on his desk and knew what he was up to, and even I was idly doodling in the margins of my notebook, trying to perfect a row of little cherry blossom flowers without success.  I didn’t know what Gryphon’s excuse for not paying attention was, but mine was simple.  I’d already done this particular unit at Hilliard Prep as a sohpomore.  And after a cursory glance at the course outline for the year, I knew I’d be in for a repeat of every subject Mr. Fitzpatrick taught.

I was in the middle of massacring a cherry blossom petal that refused to curve the right way when I felt my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket.  Frowning, I shifted in my seat so I could see behind me.  Gryphon had his head down, his left hand working a page of his sketchbook furiously, his right hand holding it steady.  That eliminated him from the short list of potentials who’d just text messaged me.  The only other possibilities were Mom, Annabel, or London.

Making sure Mr. Fitzpatrick was thoroughly engrossed in his reading, I wriggled the phone free and checked the display.  My stomach shrank at the number on the screen, even as a simmering anger started roiling in my chest.  I’d deleted Kenneth’s contact information from my phone, but I hadn’t gotten around to blocking his number like Mom had strongly suggested.

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