Untold Truth

2| Fylnn Davis

"I was lost and Violet helped me find my way here. It's my fault." He takes the fall for the both of us, but I would of been fine with the detention for tomorrow's lunch time.

At least I wouldn't have to sit in the cafeteria with everyone.

Mrs Jenkins blows out a frustrating breath and pinches the space between her eyebrows. "I'm only letting this slide once, both of you. Now take your seats."

I nod thankfully, keeping my head down as I head for one of the free seats in the back. The back of the classroom is where your typical high school jocks sit, the bad boys, golden boys, it's where Sebastian Reynolds use to sit.

Now it's where the red headed murderer sits. In the place of Sebastian.

Sitting here was almost forced upon me, and I hate it. It may not be the exact same seat, but being a seat away from his old one makes my stomach turn. Especially when Flynn sit's himself in the always free seat- Sebastian's old seat.

"Why are a lot of people staring?" I grit my teeth to maintain being calm when everyone either gasps or stares at Flynn, sitting exactly where the golden boy did.

It's almost a crime to sit in that seat.

Students remain staring with their mouths parted in shock. The jocks muttered between themselves and share glanced with Flynn.

"I told you- you look similar to an old student that went here. Not to mention, I am Hamilton High's outcast. They're probably shocked I am capable of speaking to a human." I try to take the attention off his identical features to Sebastian.

He frowns and leans back into his seat. "I'm not finding them staring the most craziest thing for my looks. I mean, I did make you pass out." My eyes widen when his lips curl into a smirk.

The same smirk Sebastian Reynolds wore with pride.

"Your face scared me half to death. Quite the opposite, actually." I ease my nerves from his smirk, avoiding the painful memories from that fatal night with a simple joke.

He chuckles lightly and pulls out a pen and book from his black backpack. "I doubt it." He tells me lowly, just for us to hear.

I focus my attention to the front of the class as the teacher sits at her desk stacking paperwork, leaving the students to engage in their own conversation and not do work. Sometimes I think teachers don't care.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Flynn for more than a minute at a time. Focusing on the blank white board eased the traumas surfacing in my mind.

"Careful there. You don't want to start giving off like one of those guys." I tap the end of my pencil against the wooden desk.

"What's that suppose to mean?" He asks, and I quickly glance at him to watch his eyebrows pull together.

I look back away, my stomach feeling uneasy again. "The guys who have ego's higher than then their IQ's, or the ones who wear the same leather jacket everyday, and brag about how 'every girl wants them'."

Once again, he chuckles at my poor attempt of a description. "Please tell me there's none of those at this school."