•••••
"Oh, look it's Shawn hunter and Cory Mathew's wanna bees," Miss, Susan, the librarian, parches her glasses and looks up from her normal strategically boring book.
That probably has a abnormal amount of smut, for a forty year old woman to be reading.
Ezra and I smile politely at her, anyways, despite the fact we know her deepest darkest secret. Ezra leans on the desk that circles around her, like a bubble.
"The fact that we have given no regard for you to think that, Miss Susan, suggests you see us that way all on your own. And we thank you for the compliment." Ezra grins, slyly, I twisted my face in disgust as he openly flirts with someone twice his age.
"She's in the back." She says, ignoring his comment with a deadpan look, unamused and unfazed by his comment.
"Thank you, Miss susan." I say, with a gentle gaze and she nods, before giving Ezra a pointed look.
Her spectacle slide down, and the sensation of knowing her struggle sinks in. Luckily my contacts came in and I get to wear them instead of the glasses that barely fit my face.
"I'm sorry, Mr, Peters. You can't bring that in here." She says, stopping both of us from going any further, glancing down at the sandwich in his hand.
She then points to the sign that says 'NO FOOD OR COLORED DRINKS,' in big bold red letters. I stare at the sign in recognition, tilting my head to the side, with a hum of acknowledgment.
"I'm not gonna eat it, we just stopped by because Noah, here. Wanted to drop off a book." He lies through his teeth, pointing at me, and I lift my chin back to the librarian, feeling alerted.
My hands stick into the pockets of my black sweatpants with a hesitant look as she looks over at me. I smile, wirily.
"Just go, I don't get paid enough to stop you." She waves a hand, Ezra head flashes over to her with a look of surprise.
"You get paid?!" He asked, and I closed my eyes wondering how he could have made matters worse, before dragging him along with me.
After a while of Ezra getting hyper fixated on everything but the task at hand before we reach where Carter is sitting.
My eyes stay fixated on her, finding everything around her, suddenly boring. My heart does a flip and lands, perfectly, making everything in me burst with a soft excitement.
Ezra, who is a few steps in front of me, beams a bright smile she's not even paying attention to as her head is buried in the Text-book infront of her.
She looks like everyone else when they study. Her eyebrows are frowned with a deep concentration.
Her forearm is placed on the table while she fiddles with the black rubber band, thats wrapped around her middle finger.
A habit, I think she picked up not to recently since school started. the other hand, fiddles with a black tipped pen as she reads what she doesnt understand and notes it for later.
I slice my eyes away, feeling a sense of stupidity rise in my mind. I place my hands on my hip and turn away from her with my head tilted up.
"Carter Maylin Jacob's, you look like fuckin Sherlock Holmes with way bigger boobs." Ezra says, sliding in a wooden chair across from her.
I look over my shoulder at the back of his head with a 'what the fuck' look.
She looks up from her books with the same look as me, she takes a moment to process or figure out how to even respond to that.
"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, and what is he doing here?" I assume she's talking to me, because my body turns around and she's pointing her pen directly at me, with a sour look.
I start to feel offended over the fact she didn't ask what he was doing here and just me, making me wonder if this was a daily thing.
"Oh, him. He begged to come with." He points his thumb behind him at me before waving his hand. She looks back up at me with a hidden gaze and I don't look away.
Her gaze is almost like a glare, built with walls and almost pain... I know she wouldn't do it, unless she wanted me to see it. So what is she trying to tell me?
"But, hey, I got you a sandwich." He waves the sandwich around and her eyes rip away from me and down the sandwich.
She eyes it suspiciously before meeting Ezra's gaze with a slight smile. I feel something warm spread to my cheeks when her smile isn't even meant for me, it still makes my skin turn hot.
"What kind?" She asked, with a glint in her eyes. I adjust the collar of my hoodie, and take a few breaths.
"Turkey." He twisted his face, she smiled gratefully.
"Set it down, I'll eat it later." She mutters, going back to her book like we aren't even there. Ezra complies to what she said and places it besides her pencil bag.
"Thank you."She looks up, with-a quick glance, and a sheepish smile. He winks with a nod.
After a minute or two, I roll my eyes after fighting my inner thoughts about taking a simple seat and do it anyway, taking the seat next to Ezra.
I look over at her stuff to see what she's working on, with frown eyebrows.
"That problem is wrong, Star." I speak before I can stop myself, scanning down the page that's upside down. Her eyes flicker up to mine with a squinted gaze.
"No, it's not." She says, calmly but deadly. I look at her unintimidated, I fold my hands together on the table before speaking again.
"Yea, it is." I look back down at the problem that I can read perfectly upside down.
Ezra's eyes pin between us, before clicking his tongue with mixed emotions.
"We probably shouldn't do this here." He says, flattening his hands on the table, with a stern look.
"Then, leave." She seethes, with a daring look like her words were meant for me.
"You don't have to be hostile, star. I was just correcting you." I raise my hands in a taunt, leaning back in my seat, with a small shrug.
"Don't tell me how to feel." She snaps back, "and you can't correct me, because there is nothing to correct." She gestures to the sheet of paper, with a passive aggressive look, her face heats with a splash of red that looks faint, against her dark skin.
Despite it, she doesn't seem that angry. She seems like she needs to be in control of the situation, because she's stubborn. She's determined to be right because if she's anything else the world will collapse.
I'm not saying it in judgment, because I would never judge her. Not even if she decided to have a mohawk or had a tail behind her perfect ass.
I'm saying it because, that's just who she is.
"My vision isn't 20/20 but I can see that you are wrong," I match her tone, and her nostrils flare.
"Can you? See, I mean, because you're not wearing your ridiculous looking glasses, Simon. So please refrain from trying to tell me how to solve this problem."
Her teeth clench, and her eyes move away after she finishes her argument, that shouldn't be opposed by another one, unless you're looking for a death wish.
So, I take my last breath.
"Are you starting to get angry because you might be right or because you are determined to prove you are right." I ask, batting my eyelashes with a douchey look of smugness.
I'm not doing this to be a douche. I'm doing this because I need her to know being wrong isn't a bad thing and she's not gonna be ceased to hell for being wrong on a problem.
"You wanna know what I think?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows, with a slack jaw.
I lighten my face in amusement, gesturing her to enlighten me with her captivating mind.
"I think that you are so passively annoying and stuck in your own head about rights and wrongs, you don't even realize how insufferable being in your presents is."
And I'm dead. Her words stabbed a hole through my chest that can't be prepared by doctors, I stepped into a place I shouldn't have.
So take her words, with every hurt fiber in my bone, I take them.
Her anger is at my own doing, and this is the moment I pretend I don't care.
"— So please, refrain from sharing your opinions, that no one wants to hear." My Adam Apple bobs, and a smirk grows on my face as my eyes never leave hers.
"That settles it then, you're wrong." My words only leave room to talk about nothing else but the problem.
I can see in her eyes her fury but I can also see the confusion to try and understand. She tries to block it out and justify it, but I can see it.
____
"Boys! Is that you?" The warm sound of my mom's voice draws to my ears as Ivan and I step through the door.
"Yea, it's us, mom." I murmured, Ivan grunts with exhaustion, lazily kicking his shoes off by the door and discarding his backpack next to it.
I lightly smack his biscp to catch his attention with a stern look, gesturing with the same hand to pick his bag up off the floor.
He grumbles, before complying with an annoyance taking over his face, and I slump my shoulders.
I tighten my lips and walk past him up to my room once I take off my own shoes and throw the bag on my bed, loosely.
I wipe my hand through my messy hair that falls over my forehead. I bring the hand down and the other up, dragging it down my face with a self-disappointed sigh.
After a second or two of self loathing, I retract out of my room and head back down stairs to the kitchen where my mom is and no sign of Ivan but I saw him knocked out on the couch in the living room.
"Hello, my beautiful boy." She wraps her arms around me the minute I walk into the kitchen. I place my hands on her upper back and squeeze.
"Hi, mom." I whisper, before she pulls away. My mom is only 5'5, about no much shorter than Carter, so I kinda have to lean down a way.
"You need a haircut." She pouts, swiping her hand through my tangled hair. I twisted my face and pulled away from her hold.
"I'll ask Sabine to do it, this weekend or something." I shrug taking a seat on the stool on the other side of the island.
"I can do it." She suggested, worming her way around the kitchen to prepare supper.
My eyes go wide and I let out a low chuckle, "No." I shake my head, trying to sound as polite as I can.
"What, why?" She asked, looking up from the cutting board.
"Because...I don't want you too." I bow my head, keeping my voice low. I love my mom to the moon and back but she is an artist. Not a barber. I think that's all I need to say.
"You know, what? Whatever. I didn't want to cut your hair anyways," I twisted my face up at her change in mood, seeing the humor in her eyes as she went back to cutting the onions.
"How was school?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained on the task at hand, I don't know whether to leave out the part where, Star figuratively pushed me to a corner or the fact that it was half my fault.
Or maybe I should leave out that part to save me the speech from my mom about how we were once so close and I shouldn't pester her the way I do because it's leading you further behind, blah, blah, blah.
Even though I have thought about what she had said along with Sabine, it's easier said than done when only one person is making an effort.
"It was good." Is my convincing statement, that I have been working to perfect for the last seven years.
"What did you do to her?" She asked, narrowing the knife at me with a pointed look. My neck moves back in offense.
"I didn't do anything." I hold my hands up in defense, feeling like one of those white girls in a horror movie, right now.
"You better not have, she's coming over to watch Ivan Friday and I don't want that to be messed up." Her statement makes me heavily confused.
"Why is she watching him? I can do it." I say, and she rolls her eyes.
"No, you can't, last time you watched him the police were called." The rage still in her eyes, I shift in my seat thinking she's not over that, yet.
"Threat— threatened to be called," I take the wrong time to correct, with an exaggerated lifted pointer finger, that finds its way to the top of my head, awkwardly.
"And that's only because he almost set my car on fire!" I raise my hands, recalling the events.
"Well, maybe. You shouldn't have let a twelve year old play with your engine!" She mocks my tone, with a motherly look of,'no other way to put it but i'm right and you're wrong, no matter how the story plays out in your head.'
"Yeah... okay, I-I understand why you don't want me to watch him," I nod, glancing down at the floor with pursed lips. She tilts her head in a mock.
"Oh, do you?" She placed her free hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows in amusement.