River of Dreams

River of Dreams: Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

"These chicks don't even know the name of my band but they're all on me like they wanna hold hands..." --D12, "My Band"

Who's here? was my first thought, followed shortly by, Oh my gosh, is that a limo?!

I stopped my travels to the door and struggled to catch a view of what was causing all the commotion, but that just got me trampled by a herd of teeny boppers.

"Are you all right?" Spike asked, offering his hand. I took it, thankful that I had decided to become his ally for the day.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I brushed the dust off my skirt and glared in the direction of the mass of teens. "I wonder what's got them all riled up. Did something happen?"

Spike tsk-tsked at me, walking me off the bus with his hand placed gently on the small of my back. "That's just like you, not knowing anything until nobody cares about it anymore. You're always kept in  the dark, aren't you?"

I reluctantly nodded. Everyone had somehow devised  ways of keeping much wanted information away from me.

Like right now, for example.

I started walking in the direction of the limo, but Spike, switching his hand from my back to my wrist, pulled me to the door instead.

"Sp-spike! What are you doing?!" I exclaimed, dragging my feet on the floor in hopes that he would stop dragging me behind him like I was an over-sized teddy bear. But instead, he lifted me up bridal style, and carried me to the cafeteria, where they were handing out schedules.

"Nothing. . . Something. . . You'll thank me later!" he said. He placed me on my feet in the line. "I don't want to lose sight of you, and I definitely will if you are chasing after some teen idol like a hound dog chases after a rabbit."

Glaring at him, I showed my I.D to the teacher behind the table to receive my schedule. He, however, kept his eyes glued to an uncomfortable place below my belt. I glanced down self-consciously and saw to my horror that my skirt had ridden up, revealing an un-modest amount of leg. Stupid dress code regulations -- in regular circumstances, I wouldn't have minded at all. I yanked my skirt down to appease him, but the teacher clucked at me, giving me a disapproving look, and handed me my schedule.

"What classes do you have?" Spike asked, reaching for my schedule. Before I could answer he was scanning over my list and cursing under his breath. "We don't have any of the same classes this year."

"Oh well," I said, a small smile playing at my lips. "I guess it's just not meant to be."

"Don't worry, I'll get a schedule change."

"What? No!"

"Don't you want me in your classes?" He looked confused, fiddling with the scrap of paper in his hands. His dark eyes burned into me.

"It's not that I don't want you in my classes, it just that . . . you got the classes you have now for a reason. It's fate that you got those classes! It's fate that I got my classes! It's fate that we aren't in the same classes!"

Spike sighed. He regarded me with a careful expression, saying, "Let's go find our lockers, then we'll meet back here and I'll take you to class, 'kay?"

I nodded and briskly went in the direction of my new locker, which was thankfully in the opposite direction of Spike's. But when I got there, there was a large group of students screaming and giggling and shoving, all facing the same direction.