Lust.

I was certainly the center of attention when I walked to my locker and French. People stared like they hadn’t seen someone new in over a century, and I felt their eyes gnawing at the back of my head. I wanted to shrink into a corner unnoticed and go home, but I was stuck here, and I couldn’t go anywhere.

The French room was void of any students when I walked in, and was a rather small, intimate space. There were posters haphazardly placed on the wall, one of them being a large flag, and there were about only ten desks placed in front of the white board. A woman in her mid-thirties sat at a large wooden desk in the front of the room with her nose buried in papers. She had black hair that looked to be greying and a small pair of glasses settled on the tip of her nose. As soon as I stepped onto the marble tile through the door frame, her chin tilted up and her eyes squinted in my direction.

“Ah, bonjour mademoiselle. Who do we have here?” The woman who I guessed was Madame D’aubigne questioned, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. Her voice was not as nice as I’d imagined it to be. Maybe it was because all of the people here had been relatively nice so far and I wasn’t expecting it. Her voice was low and scratchy, and she looked at me with skeptical eyes.

“I have you for first period French on my Block A schedule,” I said quietly, “I’m new.” She nodded, handed me all of the books that I’d be needing for the year, and directed me towards an assigned seat near the edge of the room. I sat down timidly and put my books on top of my desk before people piled in, taking their seats and waiting for the bell to ring. I felt more stares directed toward my face, but I didn’t bother to look up. I could hear one last person file into the room before the door shut, and they shuffled to the seat next to mine.

“Hi,” The person’s voice resonated across the row. I turned my head to examine my addresser and found a girl of medium height with dazzling large green eyes and light brown hair with a small smile spread across her face. “You must be new. My name’s Lilah.”

“I’m Renée,” I smiled timidly. “Most people just call me Ella though.”

She laughed and her green eyes lit up vividly. “Ella? But Renée is such a pretty name. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Soda Springs a few hundred miles east.” I felt my heart drop a little.

“Massachusetts? I had an aunt that lived there,” She grinned. I studied her closely. She was wearing a pear of brown vintage oxford shoes with plaid patterned tights and a long-sleeved tan dress that slightly flared out at the bottom and hugged her figure nicely. She had a black bow tied neatly around her waist. “So, can I see your schedule? I bet we’re in more classes together! I can show you where everything is if you need help.”

“Sure,” I smiled. I handed her the crumpled schedule out of my pocket. It turned out that we had every class together except for the physics and calculus; only because she said that she didn’t aspire to take harder math and science courses because that wasn’t her thing. She told me that she was planning on doing something with design.

It was really easy to click with Lilah, and she made my first day at school a lot easier than I’d imagine it to be. We promised to meet up at lunch where she’d introduce me to a few of her friends. So, after second period calculus, I headed down to the green. It was a large open area outside that had a few tables under umbrellas on a patio and some picnic benches under a couple of trees in the middle of campus. The rain had stopped long enough to allow the tables to dry so we could sit outside. However, the dull clouds still loomed overhead as we sat down under a large oak tree.

“So, how was your first day of calculus?” Lilah asked, plopping down across from me.

“It was okay. Mrs. Ankeller seems like a tool though,” I sighed, staring down at my heavy calculus textbook. I discarded it to the side to pull my lunch bag in front of me.

Lilah laughed, “Everyone thinks she’s a tool. My friend Garret, who graduated last year, had her for first period and had to restrain himself from going crazy almost every morning.”

“So, uh, aren’t your friends coming over or what?” I asked, my eyes flicking upwards. There was a man making his way in our direction across the lawn, but I doubted that he was Lilah’s friend. He was tall- about a little under six-foot-five- and wore a pair of khaki trousers with what looked like a green flannel button down shirt with a gray peacoat over it. From far away, it looked like his hair was a soft, brown color and was immaculately messy, if that was even a plausible description.

My attention turned back to Lilah, “Oh yeah. They’re probably going to be late. They have classes on the other side of campus considering that they’re seniors this year.”

“Okay,” was all I said before I was interrupted.

“Lilah!” It was him- the man that I’d seen before. “How are you this year? I’m looking forward to having you in advanced art this year. I take it you’re going to progress even more this year than last.” His eyes were a distinctive emerald color, and they clashed with his shirt nicely. He looked young, almost like he could be in his early twenties, and he had a distinctive jawline that looked clean-shaven.

“Oh hi Mr. Whiting,” Lilah smiled, her rosy lips parting and revealing her perfectly white teeth.

Subconsciously, as Lilah spoke to this man, my eyes flickered to his left hand. There was a small gold band around his ring finger.