Status: Completely written- now, to post it all
The Last Place
04
The next morning, I walked with Carmen down to the Dining Hall for breakfast. She’d waited for me and some small part of me that I couldn’t quite bury was secretly thrilled that she had.
Today, she didn’t follow our no-speaking rule. She chatted about anything and everything, and didn’t seem to mind one bit that I wasn’t saying a word.
“So then I told him that, contrary to popular belief, the sun doesn’t shine out of his ass, and-” Carmen cut off and smiled wickedly. I followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at Silva. “He was staring at you,” she said.
Denial sprang readily to my lips. “No, he must have just been staring into space. Or looking at someone behind me.” To prove my point, I glanced behind me, where there was… no one.
“Oh, no. He was definitely looking right at you, and with that slack jawed expression boys get when they’re attracted.”
Carmen seemed like the kind of girl who would know, with her fitted uniform and her ever-ready flirtatious smile, but… “That’s wrong. Or he was glaring. He’s never had any reason to look at me twice, otherwise.”
Carmen eyed me meaningfully and said, “Not before yesterday, he didn’t.” I studied him and he looked up at me again. Our eyes met and I was frozen.
What was this? He didn’t look like he hated me. He looked… intrigued.
I forced my gaze away, which was harder than it should have been, and saw that Carmen had that look on her face, the one that says ‘I know what’s going on’. That would have only been slightly annoying, if I knew what was going on. As it was, I was irked.
During the rest of breakfast, I couldn’t help but glance over at Shea from time to time. Not once did I find him looking back at me.
It must have been karma. Maybe it had gotten bored during the summer, because people are always less wicked when not forced together for extended periods of time. Maybe this was its big celebration of the start of another school year filled with opportunities for karmic retribution.
Because somehow, Shea ended up in four of my five classes. In this school, that was a very rare occurrence. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have minded so much. But I kept feeling his eyes on me. Maybe I imagined that, though, because whenever I glanced at him, he was looking anywhere but at me. And instead of seating us alphabetically in the last like they had for every other class, in the last one of the day, French, we were partnered. It was supposedly random, but I was having problems believing that.
For the last ten minutes of class, the teacher always had us talk with our partners about anything, so long as it was in French. When that ten minutes began, I stared at my journal, praying for the bell to ring quicker. He, on the other hand, was lounging comfortably at our table.
Madame came over and yelled at us for not talking. I wanted desperately to play the ‘I just lost my best friend, I’m depressed’ card, but I refused to use Fallon’s memory like that. Though I knew he wouldn’t care; in fact, he’d likely be wickedly amused by it, I just… couldn’t.
So I straightened in my chair, taking a deep, calming breath, before turning to Shea. He’d been watching me and had an arrogant smirk on his face. “Silva,” I muttered darkly.
He lifted a brow and asked in French how my day was going, polite as you please.
It was a good thing I didn’t know how to cuss in any language but English, because in that moment…
I realized that for the first time since Fallon’s death, I hadn’t been fixating on him. For hours, I’d been so busy focusing my anger on Shea that Fallon had completely slipped out of my head. I didn’t know whether to celebrate or weep. My tear ducts decided for me. I hurried to grab all of my things before half-running to the front of the room. Madame took one look at my face and dismissed me from class to collect myself.
Today, she didn’t follow our no-speaking rule. She chatted about anything and everything, and didn’t seem to mind one bit that I wasn’t saying a word.
“So then I told him that, contrary to popular belief, the sun doesn’t shine out of his ass, and-” Carmen cut off and smiled wickedly. I followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at Silva. “He was staring at you,” she said.
Denial sprang readily to my lips. “No, he must have just been staring into space. Or looking at someone behind me.” To prove my point, I glanced behind me, where there was… no one.
“Oh, no. He was definitely looking right at you, and with that slack jawed expression boys get when they’re attracted.”
Carmen seemed like the kind of girl who would know, with her fitted uniform and her ever-ready flirtatious smile, but… “That’s wrong. Or he was glaring. He’s never had any reason to look at me twice, otherwise.”
Carmen eyed me meaningfully and said, “Not before yesterday, he didn’t.” I studied him and he looked up at me again. Our eyes met and I was frozen.
What was this? He didn’t look like he hated me. He looked… intrigued.
I forced my gaze away, which was harder than it should have been, and saw that Carmen had that look on her face, the one that says ‘I know what’s going on’. That would have only been slightly annoying, if I knew what was going on. As it was, I was irked.
During the rest of breakfast, I couldn’t help but glance over at Shea from time to time. Not once did I find him looking back at me.
It must have been karma. Maybe it had gotten bored during the summer, because people are always less wicked when not forced together for extended periods of time. Maybe this was its big celebration of the start of another school year filled with opportunities for karmic retribution.
Because somehow, Shea ended up in four of my five classes. In this school, that was a very rare occurrence. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have minded so much. But I kept feeling his eyes on me. Maybe I imagined that, though, because whenever I glanced at him, he was looking anywhere but at me. And instead of seating us alphabetically in the last like they had for every other class, in the last one of the day, French, we were partnered. It was supposedly random, but I was having problems believing that.
For the last ten minutes of class, the teacher always had us talk with our partners about anything, so long as it was in French. When that ten minutes began, I stared at my journal, praying for the bell to ring quicker. He, on the other hand, was lounging comfortably at our table.
Madame came over and yelled at us for not talking. I wanted desperately to play the ‘I just lost my best friend, I’m depressed’ card, but I refused to use Fallon’s memory like that. Though I knew he wouldn’t care; in fact, he’d likely be wickedly amused by it, I just… couldn’t.
So I straightened in my chair, taking a deep, calming breath, before turning to Shea. He’d been watching me and had an arrogant smirk on his face. “Silva,” I muttered darkly.
He lifted a brow and asked in French how my day was going, polite as you please.
It was a good thing I didn’t know how to cuss in any language but English, because in that moment…
I realized that for the first time since Fallon’s death, I hadn’t been fixating on him. For hours, I’d been so busy focusing my anger on Shea that Fallon had completely slipped out of my head. I didn’t know whether to celebrate or weep. My tear ducts decided for me. I hurried to grab all of my things before half-running to the front of the room. Madame took one look at my face and dismissed me from class to collect myself.