Stuck

Perhaps saying such things really is jinxing them. Because right after thinking about the fact that at least I was granted my quiet and solitude, I saw three guys striding up to the table, their eyes set on me determinedly and confidently. One of them was the guy who had insulted Emil before in the hallway.

I refrained from groaning and instead sighed silently, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms, watching them as they drew closer. All the while I couldn’t help but know that they would have the usual smart-ass comments about today’s event ready and wouldn’t hesitate to let them lose as well.

With my pride wounded by this humiliation, I felt the bickering begin to grant on my nerves. Irritation and anger seemed to multiply and realization settled in. My defiant pride was all that kept me from breaking down and taking the prattling serious. I wasn’t the stoic person I had believed myself to be. I was in fact just as weak as everyone else and being gossiped about by everybody wore me down. And I wanted it to stop.

Yet usually when I heard them whispering about me I just felt that bubble of hate for this town resurface and then I was tenacious enough to keep my distance and allow it to pass. This bubble of hate just seemed to be obstructed as I tried to play it cool, trying to boredly gaze at the guy, who had just plopped himself on the bench opposite of me lazily, running a hand through his unruly, dark brown hair, instead of glaring at him.

I saw the shadows of his companions moving in my periphery vision, yet I couldn’t seem to avert my eyes from him. I was instantly drawn to him, his expression, his demeanor. It intrigued me on a subconscious level that I couldn’t control. It was the voice of one of them that gave me the strength to look up.

This time, the speaker wasn’t the conceited idiot who had insulted Emil. It was the third guy in the group, with average light brown hair, gelled to stick up and away from his head messily, with dark blue eyes, deep as the ocean that were smiling. He had a bit of a bulbous nose and thin, reddish lips. His eyebrows were bushy, yet the light brown of his hair mollified the effect, attuning the eyebrows to his face perfectly. His hands were big for a guy who couldn’t be much older than me, as they were laid out before him on the table he hovered above, supporting his weight.

“Nina, right?” He asked and stared directly at me, ignoring Emil completely. Yet there was no malicious intent in his eyes, clearly showing that he was genuine in his behavior. I took a short look at Emil, noticing how he had lowered his eyes on his plate and nearly stopped moving completely, probably ashamed and also knowing what was going to come. The only sign of life was the soft heaving of his chest with every breath he took.

Then I looked up into the deep blue eyes again and nodded, bracing myself for whatever comment may come my way. I was fairly sure that he had known my name for sure. It had flown around for months without end and as probably the only one who had moved into town since a decade, I was regarded as top news.

He nodded thoughtfully and then introduced himself, smiling friendly yet with a certain distance. “I’m Ralph Mile. Nice to meet you.” And still I couldn’t seem to find a trace of teasing or bullying intent in his face, which surprised me greatly.

He shifted his weight to lift his hand momentarily and stretched it out towards me. I drew my eyebrows together slightly, causing a wrinkle to appear between them, fearing a bad joke. Then I uncrossed my arms slowly and grabbed his, shaking it. I half expected to be pulled out of my chair and towards him, in a suggesting stance. But the contact was brief, and I only felt the roughness of his skin that seemed to have experienced more work-hours in the last few weeks than I had in my whole life-time. I wondered briefly what he did to have such hands, but the thought lost its importance as my eyes were drawn back to the guy who slouched across from me.

“That’s Ian Nott.” Ralph Mile explained further, nodding his head in the direction of the sitting guy.

The instant his name was spoken, Ian Nott’s green eyes flickered towards his friend as if asking for confirmation that he had indeed introduced the right person. Then as fast as they had averted, they clicked back in place nearly making me gasp, as I laid eyes upon the molten emerald fixated on my own grey eyes. He blinked, the long, luxuriant brown lashes surely brushing his cheeks, before revealing shining emerald, full of curiosity, while I could only stare like a duller.

“And this” Ralph Miles gestured towards the remaining boy, standing next to him, arms crossed and barely glancing my way. “is Charles Mariott.”

He, unlike his friends, certainly remembered the encounter this morning, judging from his rude manner. Yet even he didn’t make any suggesting movements or comments. In fact he seemed to be sulking.

With all the force I could muster, I averted my gaze from Ian Nott and cast a short glance at Charles Mariott, before settling for watching the speaker of the group. I began to feel curious as to what they were up to, and this curiosity blocked thoughts of bickering and gossiping.
I raised my eyebrows as Ralph hesitated to continue. He threw a look at Ian, but he didn’t notice. He seemed too occupied with staring at me. Astoundingly Ralph didn’t even try to get any confirmation or hint from Charles Mariott, making me wonder whether they had just dragged him into this.

“Well you are probably wondering why were here?” Ralph said questioningly and I decided it was time to answer him. So I nodded slightly. He seemed relieved.

“We thought, since we are throwing a party tonight, that maybe you would like to come. We’re smuggling some alcohol out of my father’s store.” He grinned triumphantly, excitedly at the prospect of drinking and stealing liquor. But I couldn’t help myself and raised a full-blown sarcastic eyebrow at him, speaking up for the first time.

“Smuggling alcohol? How old are you? Ten?” The apparent contempt in my voice didn’t pass any of them unnoticed. Yet each of them reacted differently.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how Ian Nott lifted an elegantly curved eyebrow, perfectly shaped, questioning my sanity. Ralph Mile, however, seemed stunned into silence, the excited smile still half-frozen on his lips while he gaped at me. And Charles Mariott snorted and spun around, facing me, his eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin, angry line.

“Well, where you come from it might not be that hard to get alcohol with a fake ID, but here, everyone knows how old you really are. So don’t fucking judge!” He burst out in a way that made me doubt anyone had even noticed that he was agitated at all. His voice hadn’t risen above normal level of speech, he hadn’t brandished his hands around, nor had he caused any unnecessary commotion.

I still only raised an eyebrow at him, though knowing they were right, and knowing that their intentions had just shifted according to importance.

The atmosphere had changed, visibly only by studying the guys’ postures. Charles Mariott wasn’t giving me literally the cold shoulder anymore, staring off into space with irritated eyes. He was staring at me, with downright angry eyes, his body hovering above the bench next to Ralph, who was just as his friends, tense. Furthermore Ralph Miles was staring affronted at me, unblinking and the friendly glow in his eyes vanished.

I barely studied him before peering at Ian Nott. He wasn’t quite slouching in that nonchalant manner of his anymore. In fact it seemed as if he had frozen in his original position, his jaw set, and a muscle twitching rhythmically while he probably bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and the slim hands that had rested on the table lazily, were now curled tighter than before.

Then casting a glance at Emil, I noticed how his head seemed to hang even lower, his eyes were cast downward into his lap, his shoulders slouched as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

I titled my head to the side slightly, rapt in my contemplation of their stances. The guys were standing there with wounded conceitedness, yet still self-assured and strong, angry and confident, tall and tense and ready to hunt.

Emil sat there trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, submitting himself to their wrath, stiff as if wanting to flee, yet unable to, bound my invisible chains.
It was Ian’s voice that finally rang out, startling me and bringing me out of my reverie. Surprisingly calm, he asked a simple question, easing the tension.

“So you want to come?”

My eyes instantly found their way to his and I was once again astounded by this molten emerald that his eyes seemed to keep prisoner. Taking a deep breath, I recollected my senses and with a glance at Charles, I declined.

“No.”

I had thought that after being treated like they had been, they would leave me alone, return to their seats after learning that trying to talk to me wasn’t the best idea, and finding back into their old life that had existed without me and that would continue to exist without me. But Ian leaned towards me, instead of getting up and leaving.

He lifted one of his hands, bending the wrist of his arm and rubbed his perfect, straight nose for a moment, as if begging for patience.

“Tell me.” The words were muffled by his hand, as he lowered it to rest on the tabletop once again. I was sure that now was the moment where Emil and I had to endure another number of humiliating comments. My eyes followed the movement of his hand, but then were drawn to his lips, full, pleasantly pink, inviting and twisted in a confident smirk that made his eyes sparkle with life. “Do you actually sometimes say yes?”

Still staring at his lips, the answer shot out of my mouth before I could think about it. “No.”
The smirk broadened, a tiny dimple forming on his right cheek, accentuating the high, noticeable cheekbones.

“Funny.” He continued, his voice palatably soft. “I thought so.” He paused while studying my dumbfounded expression that I tried to desperately hide behind a stoic mask. Yet while Ian was watching me, I felt the energy-draining sensation, trying to create this cool facade, for the first time. I had to force my face to relax and even then didn’t quite succeed, because his words genuinely affected me. Then he rose from his seat, causing the other guys to move as well.

“How about you think about your answer and come find us before school’s out? The day’s still young after all.” He said and then, with a confident smirk, left the table, Charles Mariott and Ralph Miles following him through the lunch hall.