AN/ This chapter's a bit shorter, sorry finals have me flopping around like a chicken with its head cut off. Anywhoo comments are really appreciated. I would love to allow you guys to have a little say in how Ruben and Arabella’s story continues so please tell me what you think! I apologize in advance for this story’s ummm… colorful dialogue. I want to make their story as realistic as possible and being a teenager myself, trust me there can be no realistic teen interactions without a little profanity but I will * star out the middle of the ‘dirty words’. Enjoy.
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Located directly off the building's west wing, the office was relatively easy to locate. A plump brunet sat behind a long desk gingerly patting her perm into place. Taking a seat in a pair of aluminum folding chairs adjacent to the door, Arabella tugged her shirt down over her midriff where it had ridden up. Not taking her eyes off the compact mirror in which she examined herself, the brunette slid a set of schedule cards across the table.
“I take it you two are new, Arabella it is right? Your father called earlier. Take your cards and head strait to first period your teachers are expecting you,” the woman explained briskly. She grabbed the cards and motioned for Dalia to follow her out into the hall.
“What’s your first period?” Dalia nearly poked my eye out as she snatched both cards out of my hand to compare the two together. Her nose wrinkled and she snorted before tossing her card back.
“We don’t share a single damned class,” she gave a dejected sigh before making her way down the hall.
“How are we supposed to find our classes? They didn’t give us a pier guide or anything.” Arabella studied the numbers above the doors, none of which matched her first period class.
Dalia let out another snort and shook her head in disbelief. “Princess Arabella, come on its not that hard the door numbers go up as you head to the back of the hall. Odd numbers on the right, even on the left.”
Arabella glanced down at her schedule, classroom 123 first period Biology. She repeated the number over in her head a few times before waving Dalia good-bye and racing off to find her own class. By now the halls were abuzz with chatter and Arabella had to weave her way through throngs of lounging teens.
A bell tolled and the halls began to empty as kids raced off to their perspective classes. Ten minuets passed and Arabella had yet to locate classroom 123. Tears of frustration stung her eyes as the final bell rang, signaling the start of the period. It was another five minuets before Arabella rounded a corner and spotted the class.
She was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread as she approached the closed door. Testing the lock, she rattled the handle before sinking to a crouch beneath the doorjamb. The sound of a clearing throat brought her back to reality. Startled, Arabella tipped her head back as was met with a pair of vibrant green eyes much like her own. Flustered and embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising position, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and hopped to her feet with averted eyes. Arabella gave a silent nod of thanks to whoever had opened the door and shuffled to her seat with downcast eyes.
“I assume you are Arabella, please take a seat in the second to last lab station, you will see me after class for your detention,” a stately bond woman sounded out from behind a large oak desk which took up the vast majority of the first row.
Her chair let out a deafening screech as she attempted to situate herself atop the tall stool. Heat flamed Arabella’s cheeks as she pretended to examine her nails for chips. It was no sooner than she ran out of imperfections to inspect, that a pair of sneakers came in to view beside her. She felt the stranger’s hot gaze assessing her bedraggled appearance.
Arabella tentatively raised her head, and fixed her inquisitive gaze on his, examining him from beneath the fringe of her eyelashes. She was startled to see the boy from outside towering over her desk. His charcoal beanie was pulled down his forehead nearly obscuring the dark slashes of his brows. Delicate eyelashes cast long shadows down the sharp planes of his face and she found her gaze involuntarily dropping to his surprisingly succulent mouth- ‘Snap out of it Arabella!’ she mentally chastised herself. She had never been interested in men before and she’d be dammed if she started now. Composing herself she fought the beginning of a telltale blush that was inevitably coloring her complexion.
“Take a picture I will last longer,” she suggested wielding her sarcasm as a shield.
To her dismay those full lips quirked into a cocky grin as his hand dipped inside his back pocket and returned with a calseless iPhone. Startled by the flash’s blinding light, Arabella nearly lost her balance on the cool metal stool. With a newfound rage fueled by the stranger’s utter lack of respect and poor regards of personal space, her usually cool disposition flew out the window as the boy slid into the empty lab station beside her.
“Thanks for the picture chica, it’s going to look great on my wall. My names Ruben by the way. Were going to be lab partners so you may want to settle whatever beef you have with me now,” the guys stated nonchalantly.
“Three things, one you will delete that photo from your phone immediately, two I have no idea what ‘beef’ means, I doubt your referring to a cow because that seems completely irrelevant and while I find you quite rude I doubt your insane, thirdly you may address me as Arabella not chica and definitely not celia.” She ticked off the demands on her fingers, after having plastered on her frost queen mask. The face was usually reserved for the most harrowing of social encounters but was a necessity if she wished to conceal her interest in the rude stranger.
To her disbelief, Ruben bit his lip as he attempted to keep a strait face.
“Arabella was that supposed to intimidate me? Sorry niña but you come up to about here on me,” he said indicating to an area a good three inches beneath his collarbone. “ And besides it takes a bit more than a prissy gringa to scare me.” He finished rolling up his sleeves to reveal an artfully decorated tattoo sleeve and a series of angry looking scars that marred his olive skin.
The gang flag seemed to stand out with blaring clarity against the paler skin of his inner wrist, marred by the thick scars, which wormed their way all the way up his forearms before disappearing under the hem of his t-shirt. Arabella’s first instinct was to pull away, yet she managed to fight her rising panic and stroked her finger over the colored ink, watching as it left goose bumps in its wake.
“That’s enough,” he muttered gruffly as he yanked his arm into his lap.
Before Arabella could inquire how he’d ended up looking like he’d fallen into a meat grinder the teacher called for the students attention. “Good morning class now as I was saying last class, my tutoring time will no longer be posted on the class blog-“
Arabella turned her attention back to Ruben who was doodling on a page of his notebook. He looked kind of cute like that she mused it wasn’t long before se began to study him with rapt fascination. Why the strange boy captivated her attention the way he did was beyond her. Ruben was trouble; the boy had tattoos for Christ’s sake and those scars- Arabella shivered at the memory of seeing the mutilated flesh of his inner wrists.
Sighing aloud she found herself she reverting further into her childhood self and while her insides were a scrambled mess, she attempted to regain control over the situation. Everything would be okay as long as she remained poised on the outside. Such a funny word, poise. The five-letter world had dictated nearly every aspect of her childhood and she supposed old habits died hard. The Sit up strait, shoulders back, legs crossed at the ankles. Her mother had always stressed the important of looking the part, fake it to make it she supposed. The last thong she needed was Ruben knowing he had her gut tied in knots. Her final hair flip was followed by a muffled laugh. Ruben held the front of his shirt over his mouth and attempted to cover his laughter with a few forced coughs.
“I’m sorry but what is it your doing, the stick in your ass just doubled in size,” he managed to choke from behind the thin cotton of his shirt.
His snarky comment wasn’t lost on her and she wracked her brain for some sort of witty reply only to be cut off by the bell. The room’s volume rocketed from a low murmur to a chorus of scraping chairs, shouted byes and a mad dash to the door.
“See you around Celia,” Ruben murmured in her ear before slipping around the other side of the tale. Her involuntary response to his touch had her cursing aloud.
“¡Vete usted mismo!” (F*ck off) She called to his retreating form.
Ruben had the audacity to wink, “All the time chica.” He backed out the door with a final salute and it was then that she noticed he carried no backpack. Ruben was a mystery to her, a mystery she had no intention of solving.