Chelsea's Smile

I was sitting in class Monday morning bored to death, when the door clicked open. It caught everyone's attention and pulled it away from Mr. Hamilton's boring lecture on Physics. In stepped a guy with a black mask covering his mouth from ear to ear. His steel grey eyes scanned the room. I could see the nervousness and the fear in them.

"Ah. Mr. Mathews, seems you have decided to join us," Mr. Hamilton said, looking over his glasses at the gorgeous boy. "Class, this is our newest addition Sander Mathews. He doesn't speak much at all, so don't ask him questions." He turned back to Sander, still looking over his glasses. "Seeing as we only have one seat open, you can sit there by Miss. Hawkins."

Sander followed Mr. Hamilton's hand to me, and his eyes locked with mine. I was caught in the steely look he gave me as he walking over slowly and sat down. He kept several inches between us, and he sat straight as a bored. It sent shivers down my spine. I kept sneaking glances at him, and his perfect posture.

The bell rang, freeing us from this never ending class. I stood to pack my bag, and decided to be friendly and talk to the new guy.

"Hi," I said softly to him. He turned and fixed with his stormy grey eyes. He didn't speak is what Hamilton said I realized. "Oh hang on. Here," I said handing him a notebook. At first he looked puzzled, but then took out my blue pen and wrote something down and then held it up for me to see.

'Hello,' He had written down in near perfect hand writing. He still seemed confused, as if wondering why I was speaking to him.

"I can show you around if you would like," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. He seemed to think for a moment as if he didn't know whether to trust me or not.

'Um sure. Do you know where 2E is?' He had written down. I nodded and smiled to him gently.

"I'm heading there to. Come on," I nodded and he stood, his eyes grateful. He slung his bag on his shoulder, and tried to hand me my notepad back. I shook my head. "Keep it. I have a bunch of others," I patted my bag and we walked out the door. "I know you won't speak, so I can talk if you'd like?" I looked to him for an answer and he nodded, his eyes thankful. I began pointing out things and buildings such as the cafeteria and gym and other stuff like that as we headed across to the E building.

"Here we are!" I said as we stepped through the doors into the art room. I brushed at a lock of my lavender hair, tucking it back. "Do you like art?" I asked as we sat down. He nodded to me, looking around the studio. There were painted banners on the walls, posters of Artists, copies of the Mona Lisa, The Scream, Blue Boy, and many others. The teacher stood in front of the red, her strawberry blond hair pulled back, paint smeared on her blue jeans.

She smiled sweetly at Sander, and walked over. Instant hate filled Sanders eyes as he leaned away from her.

"So I see we have a new student," She purred. She rested her head on her head, and tilted her head to the side. "What's your name? Or are you mute?"

"Miss. Roth, he doesn't like speaking," I defended him. "He's new. I'm sure his name is on the Roll slip," I looked over at him, and saw he was still glaring at her. The side of his face contorted up, and something red peeked out just a bit from the top of the mask. Was it a cut or something? Miss. Roth waved her hand as if to say 'Whatever' and walked away as the bell rang.

"Sorry for that," I apologized to him. "She doesn't usually do that, at least not that I know of." He waved it off, closing his eyes for a moment.

'It's fine. Subject change!' He scribbled down quickly. 'Why is your hair purple?'

"I don't know. I just liked it. It was a change from black I guess," I shrugged. "We all need a change right? That why you switched to here?" He nodded. There was one question I wanted to know though. "Is there a reason you don't speak?" His eyes shifted and hardened immediately, telling me this was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

'It's none of your business,' He wrote done. I nodded, understanding. I would still like to know, but either way, I wouldn't press for answers. I was silent for a long time. I didn't speak till the end of class when he pushed the note pad over to me. Written on it was 'It's something you don't want to know anything about.'

"Okay," I shrugged, thinking hard on what to say. I didn't want to piss him off again. "Can I ask why you moved here around Christmas time?" We were leaving the studio, heading to lunch. Or at least that what I assumed he was heading to. The pen flew over the paper as we walked to the large lunch room.

'I was forced to. I didn't have any where else to go since my parents died in a fire.' Was what it said. His parents were dead? Was he all by himself?

"Really? I'm sorry." I looked over at him and gripped the top of his hand and squeezed it gently. "If it helps, my parents were murdered." He looked over at me, the steely color of his shifting eyes catching me and holding me. The hard stone seemed to soften as he looked at me. Time seemed to stop as we stood there, staring at each other; no thing else moved, sounded, there was nothing. Just us.

But then the lunch bell rang, bringing me out of the little world that seemed to only hold him and I. We both blinked at each other, and I looked away, my cheeks heating up in a blush.

"You going to lunch? Or another class?" I asked him, changing the subject. He nodded to the lunch room, so we kept walking together.

'Let me ask you this: who loves the monster in the end?' He wrote down and passed to me. It confused me, as to why he asked this.

"The person that really cares and is there for them no matter what."