Damian saw them before they saw him.
Blackbell and Forger walking together just ahead of him and his friends who kept on either side of him.
Emile talked about the next assignment and how much he already knew about the subject but Desmond only half-listened. He was watching Anya's hair shift colours in the sunlight. Like highlights of pinky-orange and orange-reds scattered perfectly along her thick locks. They blew subtly in the gentle breeze, as if they were all trying to catch the morning sun on them just right.
It wasn't that he thought it was pretty. No. Her hair was just so glaringly bright and obvious, it was hard not to look at it. It was like looking at a blank canvas with a random splotch of colour in the centre. It was hard not to see it.
And then he noticed.
Blackbell was having a conversation with Anya. Forger was nodding and chirped up occasionally to let her know she was listening, but she wasn't. Not really.
Blackbell, so fixated on whatever she was talking about, didn't catch Anya glancing up at the roof of a building. To a grove of trees. Then side to side looking for who knows what. Then to the roof again.
'What in the. . .' Damian thought, glimpsing up at it too. Seeing nothing.
Anya suddenly stiffened, spun around. Her wide eyes stopping Damian in his tracks.
"W-what?!" He stuttered, taken aback by the panic briefly flitting across her face. Gone in an instant.
She didn't answer. But she noticeably relaxed as she continued walking. Becky giving Damian a glance before joining her.
Damian bore a hole in the back of her head the rest of the way. Anya had really started to freak him out the past couple days. She always seemed to know when his attention was on her. Like the other day in class. Like just now. Other times too, now that he thought about it. But lately it's been really obvious. How does she always manage that?
And her behaviour! She's been acting funny all week. All squirrelly and jumpy, It wasn't like her. He didn't know what she could possibly be so nervous about. Not that he cared.
...
...
...
...'Was this why she had been ignoring him?' He inexplicably asked himself.
And again. As if on cue. A small hand lifted to the back of her head. Absent-mindedly as Anya cast her gaze about the grounds once more. Then froze, realizing what she was doing. Yanked her hand back down. Caught up to Becky who hadn't noticed Anya had faltered behind.
Damian's breath caught. Did she just. . .
No. He was staring at the back of her head. It wasn't strange when a person could feel someone's eyes on them.
.......'Oh. . . I suppose I do tend to look at her when I'm thinking about how annoying she is.' Damian reasoned. It explained the few times Anya caught him looking at her in class. But it was still freaky. It was unsettling. Maybe it was a sixth sense.
—————
Anya's shoulders relaxed. A breath she didn't know she was holding, released once she entered the school. Ensconced safely inside.
Feeling less vulnerable, she could turn her attention to Damian.
She hadn't even noted his presence earlier until he specifically thought words in his head, so focused was she on keeping tabs on the agents. Anya had thought one of them had taken off their device to sneak up on her. They were almost more obvious with them on. And then she remembered they would have no way of knowing that.
It also concerned her she hadn't recognized his mind's voice at first. Her nerves were wound up tight, ready to jump at anything.
And then there he was again.
She wasn't usually so acutely aware of someone's thoughts, but he couldn't seem to turn his attention away from her.
She fought the urge to look back, or lift her hand to her head against his gaze again. He was still looking. It was unnerving. He couldn't stop thinking how weird she was being. The prickling sensation at the back of his neck telling him he should be more suspicious. Something was off about Anya Forger that he hadn't noticed before. But what was it?
His new suspicions hung over her head. Another thing she needed to deflect.
Anya wished she had stayed in bed.
————
'Maybe it's random.' Thought Damian from his high seat in the classroom. Anya still hadn't turn to face him even though he was staring at her. Had been staring for a while. Blushed when he realized what he was doing.
He wasn't sure why he was so caught up with this. He shouldn't be. He was a Desmond. Desmond's don't pay mind to commoners. What would his father think?
'Tch. What am I doing!?' He thought angrily to himself, tearing his eyes away from the girl a few rows down. 'You're being ridiculous!' He aggressively turned to the next page in his book. He had work to do.
He remained ignorant of Ewen and Emile's exchanged look.
The young Desmond followed along with the professor in his textbook, propping his chin in his hand. He ran his eyes over the page. Flipped to the next. And the next. And the next.
He retained nothing.
Damian to his own shame, snuck another glance at Forger, who studiously scribbled in her notebook.
'It was nothing.' He told himself. 'Literally nothing happened. Why is this bothering me so much?! It doesn't matter if she can tell when you're looking at her or not!'
The led of Damian's pencil pressed hard into his book, indenting the next couple pages. He furiously copied the professors writings on the chalkboard, intent on forgetting about the stupid girl that drove him nuts.
He gripped the pencil so tightly, it snapped when an alarm loud, and unexpected, jarred him and the rest of the class. It blared intermittently, announcing a fire somewhere in the building.
There was no drill scheduled for that day.
The class erupted in shouts and chatter, forgetting any decorum they had a moment ago. They jumped from their seats, ready to bound out of the room.
It sounded chaotic, but there was more excitement than panic. The students eager to know what happened to interrupt their class.
Damian sighed. It was too early in the morning for this.
Compelled, Damian stood as well, feeling rather smug that he seemed to be the only calm one amongst the students. He looked around, decidedly affirmed once more that he was better than everyone else here, as his eyes casually wandered to the lower seats. Or maybe it was instinctive.
Forger had rested her head on the desk, covering her ears. Blackbell with a hand on her shoulder, bent near, worriedly fussing.
'The alarm must bother her.' He thought placidly, not thinking much of it. Several students had their hands clamped over their ears.
"I must call for elegance!" Professor Henderson rang over their voices, immediately quelling their rambunctious impulses. "We will calmly and elegantly exit the classroom in an orderly fashion." He announced in a quieter tone.
He ushered the lower seats to stand in a line behind the door. Then the next row. And the next. Until Desmond stood near the back with his friends, peeved to be nowhere near the front as he should be.
As the Professor had ordained, they left quickly and calmly. Elegant as future leaders should be.
They entered the courtyard where hundreds of curious children gathered with their respective classes. The teachers kept order and control as much as they could, but there was only so much they could do.
Professor Henderson led Cecil Hall to an empty section and formed their ranks accordingly
Each class had been divided into four shorter lines to accommodate everyone more easily. It was sectioned by hall, perhaps making the courtyard, from a birds-eye view, look like it held military troops.
This formation allowed Damian to catch a glimpse of Anya a couple lines over who crouched, still holding her head. Becky was trying to get the attention of the adults, but they were busy in council with other teachers assessing the situation.
This confused Damian. The alarm had stopped a couple minutes ago, but she still clutched at her ears. Swaying unsteadily, even crouched close to the ground as she was.
Few seemed to notice. Most clamoured to see if they could spot what caused the incident in the school. Conversing and theorizing what happened with their friends. Emile and Ewen among them, describing in detail of the fire running rampant that surely took place.
They didn't seem to notice the lack of smoke emitted anywhere from the building.
'I hope she's okay'. His thoughts returning to her, before he could cut off the notion from forming, his face heating. 'In the way that I should be for commoners as a future politician.' He added hurriedly, though it sounded nonsensical. Politicians rarely cared about the common people.
He looked to her again, in the guise of uncaring nonchalance when her hands loosened from their grip. Her head dipping before she collapsed to the side.
"Anya!" Becky cried, dropping to the ground next to her to gently shake her shoulders.
"Uh. . ." Damian choked out as he looked on, an uncharacteristic urge to run forward and help, his pride keeping him rooted in place.
"Professor Henderson!" Blackbell screamed at the top of her lungs, the shrill cry silencing her classmates.
"Miss Blackbell, we do not-" Professor turned at her voice, to scold her before seeing the collapsed student in line.
"Her nose started bleeding and then she passed out." Becky said tearfully as he rushed over with the nurse who had been standing with the teachers.
There was quiet murmuring from the children as the nurse picked up Anya's limp body, blood trickling from her nose. The professor instructed her to take her to the nurses office in the Junior High division, as her regular office was unavailable to her.
"I want to come." Blackbell spoke up, but was quickly shot down.
"No." The nurse said kindly. "Come after she's had some rest. She'll be back in the regular office soon." She assuaged.
Blackbell wrung her hands sullenly, watching the nurse walk away with her best friend.
She would have insisted more if she knew that would be the last anyone saw of her.