charity project // mischa bachinski (ride the cyclone)

4 - her name was talia.

The next day, I saw Mischa during lunch. He sat alone, picking at his food with one of the plastic cafeteria forks.

Noel nudged me. "Be a good Samaritan and sit next to him. He looks so lonely."

"The guy hates me."

"No, he doesn't.'

"Are you sure?"

He sighed. "Let me paint a picture for you: You've just moved from the home you've known your whole life. Ripped from your family, your friends, everything you know and love, only to get plopped down in the shitty little town of Uranium City, Saskatchewan. You know no one, and everything you once held dear is miles and miles overseas."

I clenched my jaw. Noel knew exactly how to get to me. "God, I hate you. You're so dramatic"

"Love you too. Go sit with him."

He pushed me forward. "Fine. Maybe I will."

I sat down next to Mischa, who hardly looked up from his untouched food. "What do you want?"

Before I could answer, he looked up and his face softened, but only slightly. "Oh. It's you. Y/n."

I nodded. "That would be me."

"Why are you sitting here? Don't you have friends?" Mischa muttered.

I glared over at Noel, who smiled smugly from his table with Ricky and Constance.

"I do have friends. I just chose to sit here."

He managed a dry laugh. "Why? I looked lonely? Sad? I don't want to be your charity project."

"You? Charity project? That sounds like something Ocean would do. But me? No. I'm not like that," I assured him.

"Then why?"

"I thought you were interesting. That's why."

"Interesting why?"

I smiled. "You ask a lot of questions."

"And you should answer them."

He looked at me expectantly.

"I don't know why. It's just something about you that's interesting. I can't lay my finger on it."

"You can just say you feel bad for me, you know."

I shrugged. "I don't feel- I mean- Well, yeah. I guess I kind of feel bad for you."

"Your pity doesn't help anything," he said, continuing to move his broccoli around his tray.

"You're right, but it does give you a friend."

Mischa raised an eyebrow. "A friend?"

"It's me, dumbass. I'm your friend," I laughed a bit, and he smiled a bit.

"I didn't ask you to be my friend."

"Yeah, but you might as well get one. The people at this school can be... brutal, to say the least."

"You're funny. They're not going to get to me. That's not going to happen."

I sighed melodramatically. "I suppose you don't need a friend, then."

I began to stand up.

"Don't leave!" Mischa grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down before I could. "I mean... I guess a friend would be alright. You never know."

I shook my head. "No, no. I guess I'll go and sit with my other friends."

Mischa scowled. "Don't be like that."