Writer in Love

Chapter 2

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver," he said, slipping into the seat. Sitting down sent a wave of his scent in her direction (freshly dried laundry and pine; hanging clothes to dry outside of a forest cabin. Lovely.). While she was admiring his frustratingly amazing smell, her shield was desperately working to build itself back up and protect her, but this boy had made a crack in her shell that she could not repair.

"Mister Angelo, do you have a pass? Do you need a lunch detention?" Mr. Perkins tapped his fancy shoes on the floor impatiently, holding the dangerous pink slips in his hand. Everyone in the room turned their heads in Anya and the boy's direction. They all focused on her, and then the boy. She shrank down into her seat, wishing desperately that her hair had looked good today so she could let it down and hide her face.

"Of course not sir. I even have the extra credit you gave me." Was that humor in his voice? Was he playing around with the teacher? Especially Mr. Perkins? Hardly. The boy however, whipped out two sheets of paper, not as neat as Anya's, nor having work as organized as hers, but the same problems were on those sheets. No way.

Mr. Perkins immediately dropped the pink papers on his desk, detentions forgotten with complex math problems as he skipped forward to snatch the extra credit from his hands. "Lovely. Fantastic. Thank you, Damon."

Damon. She'd remember him. Just as she was remembering everything else and itching to write it down. I'll be fine. As long as he doesn't speak to me again, I'll be fine. No one will notice me. As Mr. Perkins started the lesson, she risked movement. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, she began scribbling furiously, her normally flawless handwriting jagged with urgency.

I've never been noticed before. I feel odd, as if I'm a part of something bigger than myself. This is completely unusual. I never record anything about myself, not directly. Just thoughts and ideas...This is his fault. Damon Angelo. He talked to me. I'm supposed to not exist at all, yet because of him, now I do. It was just once. Maybe I'll be okay. I hope, for my own sake. It's as if they're all becoming self-aware to the goddess that is toying with their lives, except...I keep all their secrets to myself.

Frustrated, she crossed out the entry and closed her book. Mr. Perkins was going over a problem she knew the answer to already. With nothing better to do, she reluctantly opened her journal again and wrote as she normally would.

Mr. Perkins' shirt is more rumpled than normal. Run in with his ex-girlfriend? He doesn't have his normal cup of coffee, but its tea instead. Tiffany is wearing Robert's sweatshirt, but it doesn't smell like him (more like Cotton Candy Confessions –why do I know that?). Maybe what that is is the scent of cheating. It would be nicer to tell her, but they'd get back together anyway. Ethan is almost done with his manga (I leafed through it when he wasn't looking; it's fantastic). He's working on it instead of his math work, but knowing him it's done already. Danny, Ursula, Ashlyn, and Judy are all talking about the best place to buy 'weed' (what's the appeal there? It smells like trash). Damon is-

Anya slammed her book shut. She had meant to sneak a glance at him, but she found that he was already looking at her, seemingly intrigued by her writing.

"What are you doing? Writing a book?"

God, he was chipping away her barrier. "No," she snapped, curling a protective arm around it and pulling it against her chest.

"Why the secrecy?" Damon asked, raking his fingers through his hair in order to remove the silky strands from his face (they like to do it often. He's styled it with gel before, but he thinks its horrendous to use gel on hair).

"Maybe because it's private," she said, not resisting the growl that rumbled in her throat. He didn't seem intimidated by her in the least. In fact, he looked at her as though she were a mouse trying to attack him, the lion. "What do you want? Shouldn't you be focusing on the lesson?"