Shoulder length black hair, faded green eyes, and strong facial features stood in the doorway of my seventh period class room. The new student I had heard about all day. His torn black jeans, black vest, and black rimmed eyes explained why the news of his arrival spread like wild fire.
Never had I seen anyone quite like him before. He was more of a shadow than anything else. Intimidating was the only word my mind could muster up to describe him. I cringed at the thought of being alone with him, at night, in a dark alley. Crossing my legs, I looked back at my notebook and tried not to stare anymore. Try as I might, I knew he was still there.
“Grant Ogilvie?” The teacher stood up
“Ogre is fine.”
His deep and raspy voice echoed throughout the room and sent a shiver shooting down my spine. There was nothing typical about the way he sounded. The rest of the boys in my class stopped what they were doing and stared. For a moment, I was comforted by the fright everyone else was feeling. I always seem to find peace when I’m not the only one with an opinion.
“Grant it is. Please, have a seat.”
He surveyed the room and found the only seat available, the seat on my left side. Pushing his way past the rows of desks, he worked his way over to me and slid into his chair. The smell of a burning campfire and lit cigarettes was overwhelming. My breath caught in my lungs and sent me into a coughing fit. After adjusting to the new smell, I pushed my chocolate brown hair behind my ear and managed to fake a smile to his direction.
“Harper Smith,” I stuck out my hand.
I didn’t get a response. Instead, he just stared at the text book lying helplessly on the desk. No more words were spoken during that class period. My smile dropped and I felt more hopeless than ever before. My mom was wrong when she said that everyone melted at the sight of my smile.
After a while, he reached into his bag and found a notebook. Placing it on the desk, he silently began taking detailed notes about everything the teacher was saying. I looked at my paper, it was full of doodles. Clearing my mind, I started copying down what the teacher had put up on the projector. It served no point; my mind is a sponge when it comes to school work. It’s probably because I was raised by a teacher and a principle. Never the less, my dad always insisted that I put on a show in class.
I noticed that his hand was shaking as he tried to focus on something other than the wall clock. Every minute or so, he would stop writing and look up at it. As the seconds ticked by, I could visibly see him become more and more irritated. Thirty minutes into class, he started tapping his foot in tune with the clock. A minor annoyed sigh escaped from my mouth. Grant threw a glare my way. I slunk down into my chair and didn’t look up for the rest of the period.
After the longest forty-five minutes of my life, the bell announced that we were free to leave. Before the rest of the class had a chance to stand up, Grant was out the door. I gathered together my things and got going. By the time I made it into the hallway, he had vanished.
I stood in place for a moment, looking from side to side. My mood had been changed in the period of fifty-five minutes. I found my way to my locker and checked myself in the mirror. Putting my books away, I went on the search for lip gloss. From a distance, I could hear a light laughter that I had known since third grade. Smiling, I shut my locker and turned around.
“What do you think about the new kid?”
My best friend Samantha had come up behind me. We’ve known each other for a long time, and we lived a few houses apart. Sam was the one girl in the school that everybody wants to hate but can’t. She’s friends with everyone and always knows what’s going on. Never being able to stand still, her long red hair always waved down her back.
