Oarers from the Past

Oarers from the Past Part 8

I froze.

A layer of cold liquid seemed to numb my mouth, to hold me back from talking. A sheet of ice pressed against my skin, and goose bumps fled down my arms. Carefully, I looked up, into Brian's face, and I melted. My ice disappeared into thin air, as if a flame had just been kindled inside of me.

Maybe it wasn't the first time I had seen him, but it was the first time he was seeing me. With that, I found the courage to speak. After all, I didn't want him thinking I was mute, or anything.

"Hi," I said, saying the first thing that came to me. My voice sounded rigid, but really, I was just too shocked from excitement to speak.

I had miscalculated, I realized. He was still much taller than me, even after my adjustments. I found myself having to lean my head back in order to look at his face, to notice his warm smile that sent jets of happiness crashing into me. I must have looked like I was crazy as I stared at every inch of his face.

"Thanks," he repeated, louder this time, snapping me out of my pleasant trance.

"You're welcome," I muttered, suddenly unable to find my voice again.

"Ronnie, right?"

"Ronastaieverie," I blurted out, without thinking. He couldn't know my real name. He probably couldn't even SAY my real name!

But he smiled just coolly, as if he heard names like mine every day. And maybe he DID hear names like mine every day; I didn't know.

"Ronastaieverie," he said, so fluently that it put the way I said it to shame. "That's a beautiful name. Does it mean anything?"

"It means 'divine," I said softly, still in awe that after days of planning, I was talking to Brian so suddenly. I was glad he didn't ask what language it meant divine IN, because I'm pretty sure he's never heard of Oarer. Although I was glad that the subject had changed from me saving his sister.

"Divine. Like you."

I was speechless.

Avoiding his piercing gaze, I pondered that for a moment. Divine? ME? Well, I guess I SORT OF was divine, due to the fact that I was an Oarer, but he didn't know that. What reason could he possibly have to think that I was divine? I looked up, about to ask why he would even assume that, but he was gone.

With that, my vision of happiness shattered.

***

Lockers. I absolutely hated them. Even more so today, because of my way too short encounter with Brian. His leaving still haunted me, leaving me wondering why he had gone after issuing only a simple thank you (and implying that I was divine).

First of all, my locker never opened on the first try. Never. No matter how precisely I attempted to twist the knob, it stayed shut, which aggravated me. Second of all, I had the power to snap my fingers and have the lock pop open, and I wanted to be able to use it badly. But it would be risking exposure if someone saw me. So I had to resort to trying the combination many times, and attempting to yank it open like an idiot.

I was doing this, looking quite maniacal and letting all of my anger out, when Elle walked up to me.

Her dark eyebrows were knitted together, looking just as confused as when I had first seen her this day. But when I looked at her face, I realized that they weren't knit together in confusion, but rather in frustration. She looked upset, even.

This surprised me, since I figured she'd be happy, or grateful. Or that she'd experience SOME kind of positive emotion towards me, seeing as I'd saved her skull from turning into pulp. She had been grateful before, for sure. What had happened?

She didn't speak, but motioned for me to follow her. I did. We walked to the very end of the hallway, her eyes flitting behind us every now and then, as if she thought someone was following us. It was the end of the school day; everyone else had already caught the bus. The only people who were still in the building were staff members, or people like me who couldn't open their locker in time. There wasn't really a chance of people following us to...wherever we were going.

She stopped in front of the janitor's closet.

I don't what I was expecting, really. Elle seemed like such a sweet girl. So maybe another "Thank you" for my trouble? She didn't speak, though. Slowly, almost painfully, she grimaced, walking into the shadowy closet. I followed, blindly, into the darkness.

"Elle? What's going on?" I said, trying to make out figures in the dark. I felt teardrops slip from her eyes, falling onto my arm.

"Thank you," she whispered. "And I'm sorry."

The door locked shut with an echoing thud.