Another Wrong Turn?

Chapter Twenty-Six: Meet Philip Kavanagh

            “To be continued at your place later?” Ian muttered, smiling eagerly at me.

            I laughed. “Oh hell yes.”

            “Let’s better go to Literature. We don’t want Mrs. York to get angry with us, do we?”

            One second we were staring at each other’s eyes, daring each other who to go first; the next, we were racing on the hallways, laughing our heads off.

            “Run faster, you snail!” he bellowed as he ran ahead of me.

            I laughed—or tried to, at least. “Oh I will, turtle!”

            I know, we were acting so immature and all that but who the heck cares? As if the hallway patrols—who I know were just lazy teachers sleeping inside their offices, not bothering to check on the hallways—would see us.

            I took a deep breath as I told my feet mentally to run faster. Only three more rooms. Ian was still ahead of me, but not that much!

            Two more… I’m tied with Ian!

            One more… Yes, I’m ahead of him!

            And before I knew it, I arrived outside the Literature classroom. But as I ran inside the classroom, I haven’t noticed the guy standing just in front of me. I gave out a yelp of surprise and my face smashed on his back—hard.

            I fell to my ass, my hands massaging my aching nose. “Ow, ow, ow!” I muttered. “Stupid, stupid, stupid race!”

            “Victoria, are you okay?” Ian’s voice said. His arms were around my shoulders, but his voice sounded so far away.

            “Oh shit, are you okay? I’m sorry!” the guy that I bumped into apologized. I also didn’t recognize his strange British accent. As far as I know, the only one who I know from London in school is Ian.

            “It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” I grumbled under my breath. “You don’t need to apologize.”

            “But I must. You were hurt,” the British pointed out.

            “Oh God, is my nose bleeding?” I asked, raising my hand so they can see my nose.

            “No,” the British said at the same time when Ian said, “Yes.”

            “This is not the time to joke around!” I snapped. “What, is it really bleeding?”

            “Nah,” Ian said, laughing. “Looks good to me.”

            “Ms. Strauss? Mr. Jones? What are you—? Goodness, what happened?” Mrs. York’s familiar voice asked.

            “I… I bumped to this guy,” I explained. “But I’m fine now.” I placed both of my hands on my sides and tried very hard not to wince but to smile at Mrs. York. “Sorry about that.”

            “It’s okay. You better go to your seat at the back, Ms. Strauss,” Mrs. York said, sighing as she walked back to her desk in front of the class.

            I nodded, but then suddenly, Ian’s hands wrapped around my waist possessively. I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was staring at guy that I bumped into. Ian’s eyes were hard, rocky and very, very cold. His lips were in a tight close line and I can practically see the hot air he was breathing in and out. I frowned. “Is something wrong… Ian?”