Senior year was meant to be easy for France Santos. It means finishing off his high school career with his best friends since childhood. The goal was to enjoy a well deserved senior year, and to not think about the past.
Unfortunately France Santos...
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"She doesn't even go here!"
***
I was getting a strong feeling that the new girl didn't like me.
She kept looking at me while Mr. V was discussing about the first assignment that was due at the end of the week. Her eyes were on me while giving me the death stare while I, on the other hand, was trying to concentrate on the class. My first thought was she noticed me because I was late to class, which I wouldn't have been if Lola didn't ask me to fix the TV for her favorite drama show.
I then began to get the feeling she had a problem was when I asked for a pencil. She looked like she wanted to shoot darts out of her eyes.
"So...how do you like it here?" I asked her anyways.
Her brown eyes looked up from the assignment sheet at me. They looked at me with a chilling glance.
"It's good," she responded curtly. Her shoulders were hunched, and I noticed the distance between us, despite leaning over. Her posture was stiff and upright, putting no effort to lean over halfway.
"Oh," I said, pulling back into my seat.
I picked up the paper to read the content. I read the title of the assignment, but I was only able to read one sentence before I could not help but ask, "Have we met before?"
I turned back to look at her. When she turned her head, her hair rippled, like wheat when the wind swept across it. Her brown gaze fell on me, and my breathing hitched.
I noticed her ears peaking out from her dark brown locks and a slightly curved nose. Her oxbow lips pursed at me while staring at me. She clearly had some sort of make up but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was on her face, but it looked nice.
"Why are you asking?" she asked.
There was a hint of dismay in her tone though, at least that was the vibe I was picking up.
"Uh...I don't know," I responded to her question, mentally trying to address the awkwardness of the situation. "I might be overthinking. Let's just focus on the assignment at hand."
I knew why I asked the question, but my mouth was not able to form the words. The assignment sheet on the table was not a particular interest of mine at the moment. I read Great Expectations quickly as I found it enjoyable over the summer, and knew this assignment was going to take little time to finish.
Glancing over at the girl was a different story. She was writing on the paper furiously, making a complicated diagram. I wasn't sure what she could possibly conjure up so quickly now but I watched her brainstorm whatever ideas were in her head.
After what felt like ages, she sighed at the paper. Then, she looked up at me.
"So what do you want to do?" she asked like she was already bored.
