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As I walked out of school, I plugged my headphones into my cassette player, turning it on and listening to Aerosmith. They were a fairly new band, but pretty good. I then decided that instead of going straight home, I'd head out to the cassette shop.
Once I was done at the shop, I walked out, suddenly bumping into into someone in a silver bomber jacket. Of course.
"You have to be stalking me," I crossed my arms.
"I was just going to say you're stalking me," he mimicked my crossed arms pose.
"I was here first!" I reminded him. He furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his chin.
"Oh yeah," he shrugged, dragging out the 'oh.' I had never really looked at him before now. He truly was good looking, but most of his face was covered under a flop of silver hair. He seems like the kind of guy that would use his handsomeness against others. Or just flaunt it around to where it gets annoying.
"Aerosmith, huh?" He asked, motioning to my cassette player. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How did he know? It's clasped into the cassette.
"Uh, yeah," I shrugged it off.
"More of a Pink Floyd fan myself," he shrugged.
"Oh really?" I tapped him on the chest; today he happened to be wearing a Pink Floid shirt. He looked down at his shirt with a shrug, nodding.
"Yeah they're pretty good, but not as good as the Stones," I shook my head. He faked a gasp, holding his hand to his chest.
"You are so uneducated in music!"
"C'mon, everyone knows The Rolling Stones are an amazing band!"
"Your favorite song by them?" He asked, skeptically.
"Paint it Black," I smiled. He nodded, having to agree with me. He opened his mouth, about to respond, when he looked over my shoulder and closed his mouth. "What is it?" I asked, confused.
"Follow me," he grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind him. His emotions showed he wasn't overly fearful. They simply suggested he was nervous, but not for himself. He dragged me all the way across the street, next to an old bank that now stood vacant.
"What was that about?" I ripped my arm from his grip. I could feel my electricity spark in my body. My powers were often controlled by my emotions. I had long since learned to deal with them during times of fear or depression, but can still feel it surge beneath my skin.
"That's what," he nodded his head towards the cassette shop. I watched as Emily walked out the door, followed by her boyfriend of the week and a couple of her idiotic followers. I rolled my eyes at his haste to get me out of the view of Emily.
"I'm not scared of her or her boy toy," I claimed, shaking my head.
"I know, but it's not good to have enemies," he shook his head.
"Who are you, my therapist?" I lifted my eyebrows in sarcasm. He chuckled slightly, about to respond, when the clock tower bell rang and my eyes darted to the clock. Fuck. Work.
"Oh shit," I mumbled. "I have to go!" I turned and left with a wave, not waiting to hear him say goodbye.
•••
Days seemingly passed and Peter hadn't asked about why I left so abruptly, which I was thankful for. I'm not even sure how this boy weaseled his way into my mind. The way I officially met him was so strange and quick, that I hadn't really had time to comprehend it. I didn't really care, though. He's nothing to me. Just another guy in my grade.
My walk to school that day was more of a run, since it was raining. The hotel I live in is just right behind the football field, which was both convenient and dangerous.
I got to my locker, brushing my damp hair off of my shoulder to fall against my neck. I got my books and put my bag away, thankful for the morning being uneventful yet again. I then continued onto my Geometry class, slamming my locker door behind me.
•••
"Lyra, may I speak with you?" My teacher asked me after class. I nodded, walking up to the desk as the rest of the class packed up to leave.
"Am I in some sort of trouble?" I asked my teacher, Mr. Frameer.
"No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually," my teacher smiled. "I'm almost sad to say you are too smart for this class. You ace every test, raise your hand with every question, and show perfect work. We are required to give students an advancement test, which simply sees if students that are doing well in the class exceed what is taught in the class. You are the only one who passed that test. And you passed it with flying colors. I want you to move up to AP Mathematics," he explained to me. I nodded. "I've already spoken to the principle and board of directors and they agreed to letting you enter the AP Mathematics class now, since we are close to a break. Once we get back from break, you will no longer be attending this class."
"Thank you. That sounds great," I smiled. He nodded.
"You can go to the office to pick up your new schedule."
•••
I entered the small office which smelled of pencil shavings and hand sanitizer; this was not the best mix of smells. The sound of paper getting shredded and stern voices filled the room, letting you know you were in the office. You couldn't get away with any crap in this room.
"What can I help you with, dear?" One of the secretary's came up to me.
"Oh, hi. I'm here to pick up my new-"
"He did it again!" A screaming voice entered the room, cutting me off. The door swung open, a red faced teacher by the name of Mr. Warner entering. One hand was clasped in a fist and the other was gripping onto the color of a silver bomber jacket. Wearing the bomber jacket was none other than Peter, who looked quite amused by Mr. Warner's outburst.
"What did he do again?" The secretary that was talking to me asked Mr. Warner, walking over to the two.
"He stole from me! I don't know how, but I swear it was him!" Mr. Warner yelled.
"I didn't steal anything!" Peter claimed. His emotions said otherwise, telling me that he was mischievous at the moment.
"And what did he steal?" The secretary asked.
"He stole my hole puncher," Mr. Warner glared at Peter. I snorted, trying to hold back my laugh. "And he threw my neatly hole punched papers all over the classroom!"
"And did you see him do this?" The secretary asked, crossing her arms.
"Well...no...but he had the hole puncher in his pocket!" Warner yelled.
"Warner, since you have no real proof besides your own word against his, there's nothing I can do. Now let go of the poor boy, you insufferable fool," The secretary glared at him. Reluctantly, Mr. Warner let go of Peter's collar. Peter rolled his shoulders, pretending that Warner's grip hurt him. "Now please return to your class." The secretary nodded at him, turning and walking back to me.
"I'll catch you, boy," Warner glared at Peter, clasping a rough hand on Peter's shoulder.
"Doubtful," Peter smirked. Warner's glare hardened before he turned and left the office.
"Mr. Maximoff, I do advise you not to make Mr. Warner any angrier in the future," The secretary looked up at Peter from her glasses.
"We'll see," Peter smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets as he rolled back on his heels.