The Girl With Tattoos • Original Version

The Girl With Tattoos (8)

Was Ms. Larson really Banns mother? Or did he accidentally call her mom. I mean, we've all done it. Right?

The droopy feeling in my stomach screamed otherwise.

The hallways were silent, probably because lunch just ended and everyone was in their 5th period. Great. I don't even know what class that is because yesterday I ditched during lunch.

Glancing around, I tried to figure out where the hell I was in this giant school. I know my locker number was 502 and the one directly in front of me was labeled 487 so I must be close, right?

Walking 10 steps to my right, I found my locker. It blended in with every other fucking one around it.

I should really change that. Maybe cover it in black paint. Graffiti it with my favorite bands. Or even just randomly put shit on it like curse words and skulls.

In the middle of glancing over my schedule in hopes of remembering six classes and where they were, footsteps broke the comforting silence.

I really don't want to hear people talking right now. Especially if it's about me being hot, or new, and getting me in trouble five minutes after walking out of the damn principals office.

"Hey Gracie! I thought you would be in class or skipping," The voice was far too familiar as he is the only guy I've talked to here for more than two minutes. "What's your next class?"

I turned around to see Bann standing there with a smile on his face and I gave him the piece of paper.

"Wow. We only have three classes together but we do have the next two. P.E and History," He looked up at me, staring into my eyes with happiness tugging at his blue specks. The spell was wrapped around me again but Bann seemed fascinated with something. "Your eye color is breathtaking I hope you know. Is that why you wear sunglasses all the time?"

I nodded, hoping he wouldn't dig any deeper.

"If you don't mind me asking, do you talk? I only see you answer questions with a simple head movement and back there in the office, you wrote your answer down."

If I was being completely honest, I didn't want to reply. It only led to more questions like, "were you born with it?" or "did you choose?"

Thinking the only way I could respond was through words, I pulled out my phone and typed it out.

'No I don't talk. I just don't like too'

Showing him the message, he nodded at the screen and I turned off the little box, stuffing it into my white, high-waisted jeans.

"Good to know," That's all? "Well, wanna go to P.E. now? Speaking of how you ditched during lunch yesterday," He winked at me, laughing a bit. Shrugging and grabbing a pair of sweats to change into, I signaled him to go and I'll follow.

__Banns POV__

I had a feeling she was mute for a reason, or maybe even reasons. It was like my sixth sense. I could read emotion very well; see how someone is feeling regardless of a mask or some fake smile. But somehow Gracie blocked off emotion well. She tried to seem emotionless and covered the sorrow with a look of power accompanying her harsh eyes. The grey just mixed so well.

It intrigued me.

When we walked into the gym, Gracie immediately sat down on the bleachers, hopeful she wouldn't have to join in any of the activities but I know how stubborn Coach Denson was. He wouldn't let you sit out even if you broke your leg. He would tell you to just walk it ... fast.