Foxblood: A Brush with the Moon

Chapter Three

I soon settled into my new routine. The first week was full of introductions and getting my bearings. Then in the second week, Mr Arkwright, the head of the art department, decided to leave the class unsupervised to compose a still life. The sculpture of recycled rubbish was already constructed on the table in the middle of the classroom, with a circle of easels surrounding it. I threw my bag on the floor and sat down behind one of them, in preparation. Beth popped her head around the door.

“Cappuccinos at eleven?” she asked.

My answer stuck in my throat when, at that precise moment, a tall, slim but muscular, blond Adonis strode confidently past the window separating the classroom from the corridor outside.

Head to toe in black—tight jeans and a slim-fit shirt with an overly large collar and cuffs—he painted a very sexy picture. He was so different to the boys back in Brumpton, who lived in their sweatpants and trainers, that I couldn’t help but stare. His head turned towards me, as he stopped talking to his friend. There was something strangely familiar about him. I even thought our eyes briefly met, but I couldn’t be certain due to his dark-tinted Ray Bans, and the moment passed as quickly as he did.

Beth glanced over her shoulder to see what had caught my attention, raised her eyebrows, and commented, “Nice ass. Good choice. Now are we on for coffee, or not?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure,” I answered, shaking a thought from my head. “I’ll see you after class.”

The refectory was a light, airy room on the ground floor of B block. A door in the floor-to-ceiling glass, on the opposite wall to the food counter, led out to a small paved picnic area which blended into the grassy mounds beyond. I chose a table by the window and sat down with my cappuccino to wait for Beth.

A portly robin hopped along the patio wall, bobbing to peck up specks of food, before peeking around nervously to check if anyone had seen him. His red breast mesmerised me, and I wondered why it’s called red when, in reality, it’s more of a burnt orange? Couldn’t the same be said for the colour of fox fur? A shiver ran through me when unpleasant memories came flooding back. I tried to shake them off as Beth’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“Sorry I’m a bit late. There was a catfight over a hairbrush in the changing rooms, and I had to help break it up,” she said, plopping down into the opposite chair.

I looked at the cup she’d placed on the table. “Did they get your order wrong? That looks like an espresso.”

Beth laughed. “Yeah, it is. I decided I needed something stronger. Hey. Guess what? That guy you were checking out earlier was in the gym signing up for the Triplasian Tournament. I asked around and came up with some hot info.”

I rolled my eyes. Typical Beth.

“Of course, if you’re not interested…” she said.

I hated it when she teased me. She knew just how to press the right buttons. “I was not checking him out, merely curious. He’s different. And he looked older than us.” I was digging and she knew it.