"Liv, Liv!" Liam shouted in greeting. "Meet Ryan." He shoved the boy towards me, bouncing on his heels as he introduced us.
"Ryan, this is Olivia. Olivia, this is the fresh meat: Ryan."
I saw Liam's lips moving, but the words didn't reach my ears. I knew that blonde hair, and I'd looked into those green eyes. It was the boy from the graveyard, the same one who saw me talking to Auntie Olivia. My hands clenched uncomfortably at my sides. He still wasn't wearing a jacket as if he was impervious to the cold, and for some reason that terrified me.
"Nice to meet you, Olivia," Ryan greeted me. His voice was musical, and a soft Irish accent rang through the air.
How didn't I hear his accent before?
I knew then that he was the boy my father spoke about last night. The one with absent parents.
"You just moved in across the street," I said, and I cursed myself for sounding like an idiot.
Ryan's smirked. "I did."
Liam glanced between us in confusion, casting odd looks my way as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Except I didn't know what I was thinking. My mind was a jumbled mess of fear. Will Ryan tell Liam what he saw? Will Liam hate me for cleaning the grave of a mass murderer?
"Have you met before?" Liam asked us, breaking through my reverie. His eyes flickered between us, and he chewed his bottom lip, giving him the appearance of a disapproving father.
As I opened my mouth to reply, Ryan cut me off. "No. At least, I don't think so. I think I'd remember her though," He said cheekily.
I gaped, and Liam's weighted stare morphed into surprise. Ryan had saved me, and I did not understand why. I stared openly, and he returned the gesture with a twinkle in his eyes. At the lack of my reply, an awkward silence descended upon us until it forced me to speak.
"Yeah... we haven't met," I said.
Liam cleared his throat. "Anyway... Ms Cliffe asked me to show Ryan around. You don't mind if he sits with us today, do you?"
I shook my head, and Ryan's smile turned smug. Liam's heavy gaze was relentless on the side of my head.
"Are you feeling okay, Liv?" Liam asked me. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead as if checking my temperature.
"Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."
Liam ran ahead to discover what Ryan's first class was, leaving me and my saviour alone. We walked in tense silence, and I looked anywhere but at Ryan, seeing a small group of students beneath Goliath. Clouds of smoke were barely visible as they peeped out from behind the trunk.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Ryan snickered.
My lips twitched downward, and I didn't reply.
"Oh, come on," he said. "Not even a few words for the guy who saved your arse?"
"You saved nothing," I said, staring forward. I'd never been a good liar.
My reply caused Ryan to laugh, the same bark-like chuckle from the graveyard. "You could've fooled me. You froze when you saw me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I denied, but Ryan's grin widened at my words. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing." His shoulders rattled with silent laughter. "Nothing at all."
Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and spun me to a stop. I considered resisting, but as I glanced at the students that surrounded us, I decided not to cause a scene. I risked looking up. He was over a head taller than me, and I stood no chance if he turned the situation ugly.
Where did that come from?
I didn't know why I considered the prospect of a fight. He had done nothing to suggest he might hurt me. Regardless, fear rushed through my bones that I couldn't explain. I knew I needed to escape. Yet, at the same time, I felt calm. As if my body fought a war between relaxation and utmost horror at his touch.
Ryan's shoulders stiffened when he grasped my arm, but his eyes softened, as if he too struggled between contrasting, but fierce, emotions. It seemed I wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable, because he quickly dropped his hand. With a look of revulsion on his attractive features, he peered down at my school blazer, where his hand had been a moment earlier.
"What?" I demanded, pulling my arm from his reach as if he had burned me.
Shocked back into the present, Ryan forced a charming smile.
"What's your problem?" I asked. "You don't just go around grabbing people like that!"
He ignored me. "I think we should be friends," he said.
"Friends?" I parroted back to him.
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, friends. Y'know... when people do things together, are nice to each other, help each other with their homework..."
"I know what friends are," I interrupted him, rolling my eyes. "I'm not stupid."
"Then what's the problem?" he mocked me. His forest green eyes twinkled with humour. "Look, I won't tell boy-wonder over there about your side job if that helps."
I scoffed. "Side job?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Your cleaning business. Olivia Peterson: cleaner of graves of the misunderstood."
"Oh, bore off."
My hands clenched and unclenched into fists at my sides, and a flush rose on my cheeks until I was sure I resembled a tomato. I didn't notice Ryan's look of worry cast toward the puddle on our right, or the way the water bubbled and frothed.
It was at this point that Liam graced us with his presence.
"English!" he announced. "With me and Olivia, isn't that great?"
Silence met his question. Liam glanced between us with a lost expression.
"What did I miss? Wait, I don't want to know. Starting fights again, Liv?"
I shoved past Liam, making my way into the school. "He started it."
"You always start it." Liam grinned.
We made our way into the English building, and I tried to ignore the stares that followed us. I reminded myself that the students were staring at Ryan, not me. I was so used to the feeling of eyes tracing my movements, that for their gazes to be resting on someone else was unfamiliar. Usually, people were wondering if I'd turn out like my aunt, but this time, they were checking out the fresh meat. Literally. The female eyes were hungry as they appraised him, but Ryan didn't appear to notice.
Liam played the part of the tour guide, pointing out random buildings and making useless comments like: "That's the maths building. Wouldn't recommend going in there, they give out so much homework."
When we reached our usual classroom, the three of us glided inside. I went to my usual seat and dropped into it like a stone. It wasn't until it was too late to protest that I saw Liam offer Ryan his seat, which was coincidentally right next to mine.
"Take my seat, Ryan. Liv is amazing at English, she's such a nerd."
I glowered at Liam, but he winked at me whilst mouthing, "I think he likes you," behind Ryan's turned back.
It didn't seem that Liam was the best at picking up social queues. As Ryan leaned down to remove his books from his bag, I mimed slitting my throat, causing Liam to stifle a laugh.
"Books out of your bag's people. The Crucible won't ready itself."
Mr Lewis arrived and took his place at the front of the class. In his right hand, he brandished a piece of chalk, and he used it to write The Crucible, Arthur Miller, on the blackboard. My school was traditional, and the teachers didn't use whiteboards. The Governor's thought blackboards allowed the teachers to connect more with the material. Whatever that meant.
"Today we will do some silent reading. But don't think you can slack off, because I'll be throwing some questions out to random people at the end of class." Mr Lewis wagged his index finger in the general direction of the class before moving to sit in the chair behind his desk. He kicked his feet up and leaned backward, his chair teetering on two unsteady legs. It didn't surprise me when he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. The faint sound of snoring wafted toward us, and I heard Ryan snort and mutter beneath his breath.
I ignored him and pulled my copy of the play out of my bag. I read in silence. It was only a moment before I felt something soft hitting the side of my head. I turned to Ryan in irritation.
"Will you bugger off, please?" I asked in a low voice. "I'm trying to read."
"So am I." Ryan winked.
I looked down at the desk we shared and saw what he had been throwing at me: tiny pieces of his copy of The Crucible which he had ripped up and screwed up into balls.
"Seriously?" I whispered. "What, are you too good for reading now?"
"Not too good." Ryan shook his head. "It's just not the most fun thing I could be doing right now."
"Oh yeah? And what is?"
"This."
Ryan threw his makeshift-ammunition at my face, hitting me square in the nose.
"Found yourself a new friend, Peterson?" Daniella turned around to face us. Someone unfamiliar with her tactics may have mistaken her expression as genuine curiosity. I didn't.
"This is Ryan. Ryan, meet Daniella." I gave the introduction unnecessarily. Due to the town's over-active rumour mill, Daniella undoubtedly knew who Ryan was.
"Nice to meet you, Ryan." Daniella smiled and waved.
Ryan raised an eyebrow, unbothered.
I elbowed him in the stomach when Daniella turned back around. "Be nice. Don't make things worse for me."
"Only my friends get favours out of me," he whispered back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
I threw a ball of paper toward him, and it landed between his eyebrows. His eyes shone with humour.
"I guess I'll just have to go without then." I went back to reading, ignoring his attempts to get my attention for the rest of the lesson.