Status: Completely written- now, to post it all
The Last Place
07
We managed to do our work without any problem. It was almost as if we were on friendly terms, as if we hadn’t spent years fighting.
We were very professional, I thought. But that also meant we finished with time to spare. “So… doing anything interesting this weekend?” I asked diffidently.
Shea snorted. “Don’t think this means we’re friends,” he said. I flushed and looked down.
“Of course not,” I snapped. How embarrassing. And here I’d thought we could get along. Stupid Carmen for putting ideas in my head.
“Connelly?” Shea asked tentatively. I doodled on a bit of scrap paper, determined to ignore him. “Connelly, I-”
I never did get to hear what he’d been about to say because just then, Carmen stormed over and laid into him. “What are you thinking, you unfeeling air-for-brains? Do you kick injured puppies, too?” She kept her voice low, to keep the teacher from noticing, but that didn’t mean it had no bite. I thanked my lucky stars she’d never been mad at me.
I gripped her arm and tried to pull her away. “Carmen, no,” I pleaded.
“Ash, weren’t you just saying that you don’t want to be an easy target?”
Well… yes. “He didn’t do anything, Carmen.” She looked surprised.
“But you looked so…”
“So what? Sad? Pathetic? Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”
Carman looked reluctantly toward Shea. “I… uhm… I’m sorry.” But Shea wasn’t paying any attention to her. No, his attention was focused on me. He looked… concerned? Weird.
The bell rang just then, thank goodness. I packed up my things and fled to the hallway. Not that I could get away from either of them for long. Next was French, where I would have to sit with Shea again. And Carmen… well, she had a habit of popping up wherever I was. Not that I minded so much. I was starting to like that. After all, she was the closest friend I had now.
All of my other friends had only hung with me because of Fallon. Now that he was gone, so were they. I was okay, though, really. If they were that superficial, then I didn’t want them around, anyway.
I was the first person to arrive in French, and I set about preparing for class with my habitual routine. I put the book and workbook on the right side of the desk, and a pen and a pencil on the left. Both were perfectly parallel. My bag went to the right of my seat, with my purse perched on top.
Once this small ritual was complete, I looked up and caught Shea watching me. “Silva,” I greeted politely. I’d never once called him by his first name anywhere except in my head, and he had always followed suit.
So naturally, I was shocked when he said, “Aislin?” My stomach flipped. I liked the way my name sounded when he said it. But I didn’t let that show. He was the one person I had to be careful not to show any weakness around. He was just the sort to exploit it. So I put on my coldest expression and lifted one brow carelessly.
“I didn’t know you knew my name, Silva.” I put extra emphasis on his surname and his eyes tightened. He turned away from me. I could almost feel anger and embarrassment rolling off of him. So in my kindest tone, I asked, “What did you need?”
“Nothing,” he spat. “Forget I ever said anything.”
“Well,” I said in an exaggeratedly ponderous way, “that’ll be pretty hard, considering we’re partners.”
“Just drop it, okay?”
I half smiled, though he couldn’t see it with his back turned. “Fallon used to joke about how I’m even more unshakable than the paparazzi. Don’t hold your breath.”
Now Shea did turn around, studying my expression. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he said. I did my best to mask my shock, but it must have failed, because he smiled wryly. “I’m not all bad, you know.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” I said faintly. I hadn’t meant for him to hear me, but he did, anyway. “I’m sorry,” I told him, and meant it. “How did this start between us, anyway? Why do we hate each other?” Strangely, I really couldn’t remember.
“I don’t hate you, Connelly.” I frowned. I didn’t like that he called me that.
“Shea,” I said, testing the name. I kind of liked it. And I wouldn’t mind being on a first name basis with this boy. This boy who was, somehow, not at all what I’d always assumed. He was… nice?
There was something very wrong with this picture. But for now, I would go along with it, especially considering I’d be seeing him a lot. It would be easier on us both if we could just get along.
“I didn’t know you knew my name, Aislin,” he mocked with a lopsided grin. I smiled back and thought, look at us getting along. Freaky.
We were very professional, I thought. But that also meant we finished with time to spare. “So… doing anything interesting this weekend?” I asked diffidently.
Shea snorted. “Don’t think this means we’re friends,” he said. I flushed and looked down.
“Of course not,” I snapped. How embarrassing. And here I’d thought we could get along. Stupid Carmen for putting ideas in my head.
“Connelly?” Shea asked tentatively. I doodled on a bit of scrap paper, determined to ignore him. “Connelly, I-”
I never did get to hear what he’d been about to say because just then, Carmen stormed over and laid into him. “What are you thinking, you unfeeling air-for-brains? Do you kick injured puppies, too?” She kept her voice low, to keep the teacher from noticing, but that didn’t mean it had no bite. I thanked my lucky stars she’d never been mad at me.
I gripped her arm and tried to pull her away. “Carmen, no,” I pleaded.
“Ash, weren’t you just saying that you don’t want to be an easy target?”
Well… yes. “He didn’t do anything, Carmen.” She looked surprised.
“But you looked so…”
“So what? Sad? Pathetic? Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”
Carman looked reluctantly toward Shea. “I… uhm… I’m sorry.” But Shea wasn’t paying any attention to her. No, his attention was focused on me. He looked… concerned? Weird.
The bell rang just then, thank goodness. I packed up my things and fled to the hallway. Not that I could get away from either of them for long. Next was French, where I would have to sit with Shea again. And Carmen… well, she had a habit of popping up wherever I was. Not that I minded so much. I was starting to like that. After all, she was the closest friend I had now.
All of my other friends had only hung with me because of Fallon. Now that he was gone, so were they. I was okay, though, really. If they were that superficial, then I didn’t want them around, anyway.
I was the first person to arrive in French, and I set about preparing for class with my habitual routine. I put the book and workbook on the right side of the desk, and a pen and a pencil on the left. Both were perfectly parallel. My bag went to the right of my seat, with my purse perched on top.
Once this small ritual was complete, I looked up and caught Shea watching me. “Silva,” I greeted politely. I’d never once called him by his first name anywhere except in my head, and he had always followed suit.
So naturally, I was shocked when he said, “Aislin?” My stomach flipped. I liked the way my name sounded when he said it. But I didn’t let that show. He was the one person I had to be careful not to show any weakness around. He was just the sort to exploit it. So I put on my coldest expression and lifted one brow carelessly.
“I didn’t know you knew my name, Silva.” I put extra emphasis on his surname and his eyes tightened. He turned away from me. I could almost feel anger and embarrassment rolling off of him. So in my kindest tone, I asked, “What did you need?”
“Nothing,” he spat. “Forget I ever said anything.”
“Well,” I said in an exaggeratedly ponderous way, “that’ll be pretty hard, considering we’re partners.”
“Just drop it, okay?”
I half smiled, though he couldn’t see it with his back turned. “Fallon used to joke about how I’m even more unshakable than the paparazzi. Don’t hold your breath.”
Now Shea did turn around, studying my expression. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he said. I did my best to mask my shock, but it must have failed, because he smiled wryly. “I’m not all bad, you know.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” I said faintly. I hadn’t meant for him to hear me, but he did, anyway. “I’m sorry,” I told him, and meant it. “How did this start between us, anyway? Why do we hate each other?” Strangely, I really couldn’t remember.
“I don’t hate you, Connelly.” I frowned. I didn’t like that he called me that.
“Shea,” I said, testing the name. I kind of liked it. And I wouldn’t mind being on a first name basis with this boy. This boy who was, somehow, not at all what I’d always assumed. He was… nice?
There was something very wrong with this picture. But for now, I would go along with it, especially considering I’d be seeing him a lot. It would be easier on us both if we could just get along.
“I didn’t know you knew my name, Aislin,” he mocked with a lopsided grin. I smiled back and thought, look at us getting along. Freaky.