Paper Boats

[9] In which, he is tied down

⎈ Levi Warren ⎈

I let a frustrated sigh slip through my lips as I manage to squirm through the onslaught of people flooding through the school halls, collapsing in exhaustion against my locker as I finally reach it's battered door. Sticking my combination into the lock, I yank the door open and pull out my English stuff, thankful for the lack of homework in the subject since the start of the project.

"Oh my gawd, Skye babes! Your hair looks fantastic!" Kaitlyn's high-pitched squawk catches my attention from down the hall, and I turn my head slightly and catch a glimpse of Skye and her new gal-pal.

My eyes widen in confusion when my gaze latches onto what should be black and purple hair, which has suddenly become a very unnatural blonde. A cute smile is dancing across Skye's cherry-red lips as Kaitlyn and her posse squeal over her new look. My eyes narrow as Harry slings his arm over her shoulders and plants a fleeting kiss on her temple.

"Cocky bastard." My thoughts snarl, and I slam my locker door shut with a deafening bang, the blue metal shuddering under the sudden force.

At the sound, Skye's head whips around and her eyes get a glassy look in them, the normally bright blue becoming pale and icy, betraying all her thoughts and feelings through the windows of her tumultuous soul. I find myself glowering at her, my lips set in a half-pout-half-grimace as I turn away and stomp off towards the English Lit. classroom, my bag slung over my aching shoulder.

⎈ ⎈ ⎈ ⎈ ⎈ ⎈ ⎈ ⎈

Glaring at the paper in front of me, a building feeling of disgust swells through my body.

I have to perform this?

Uh uh, no way.

My eyes flicker over to Skye, who seems to be happily practising her lines with her new friends. My hands tighten into fists as I hear Harry begin to speak to Skye as if he were Romeo and she was Juliet.

"If I profane with my

unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle

fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims,

ready stand

To smooth that rough touch

with a tender kiss."

Skye giggles at his surprisingly well-spoken words, her pale cheeks burning with colour as he plants a kiss on her cheek, whispering something in her ear.

Glaring down at the crumpled piece of script on my desk, I feel my anger burning away as the old words sink into my mind, each syllable entwined with a deep sadness.

When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

My eyes flutter closed, shutting out the noise of my classmates hideous attempts at Shakespeare and their unending whispers of rumour and scandal.

Thoughts whir through my mind, each one returning to Skye and her smile, and her laugh, her hair, her eyes and every angle and curve of her personality and self.

Two days and she's already got me tied down.