Nell
n o w
Nobody knows about the new girl. She just comes into first period, clutching a note and holding the strap of the messenger bag on her shoulder. She mumbles her name to the teacher and grabs the last empty seat.
She dimly realizes that the teacher was telling the class that Stella was new here, and that the last empty seat was the one between her and the rest of the room. She rests her chin on her hand, almost pointedly not looking in the new girl’s direction.
“Hey.”
She looks up to see the new girl’s wide eyes watching her. “Stella,” the new girl introduces herself, holding out her hand.
She’s too shocked to realize that it’s expected of her to take that hand in her own, to shake it in greeting, to offer her own name. Her eyes flicker from the proffered hand to the wide eyed gaze.
“Sorry. D’you have a thing about germs or somethin’?”
She shakes her head, but keeps her hands in her lap. Stella raises an eyebrow but retracts the hand, settling back in her desk.
Over the next hour, she studies Stella: her appearance, her body language, her facial expressions. She sees the way Stella fiddles with the rings in her ears and the bracelets that encase her wrists. She watches as Stella jots down barely anything in her notebook, a smirk on her face when she does. She hears Stella’s commentary on the lesson, the teacher, and their other classmates.
In the last five minutes of class, they compare schedules - at Stella’s request, of course. They manage having every other class together, along with lunch.
On their way out, Stella stops and says, “I didn’’t get your name.”
She thinks to herself, That’s because I didn’t give it. But she takes a breath anyway, and she knows, in her heart of hearts, that things are going to be different now.
Her mouth moves of its own accord, and she hears herself speak before she realizes that she has.
“Nell.”
She dimly realizes that the teacher was telling the class that Stella was new here, and that the last empty seat was the one between her and the rest of the room. She rests her chin on her hand, almost pointedly not looking in the new girl’s direction.
“Hey.”
She looks up to see the new girl’s wide eyes watching her. “Stella,” the new girl introduces herself, holding out her hand.
She’s too shocked to realize that it’s expected of her to take that hand in her own, to shake it in greeting, to offer her own name. Her eyes flicker from the proffered hand to the wide eyed gaze.
“Sorry. D’you have a thing about germs or somethin’?”
She shakes her head, but keeps her hands in her lap. Stella raises an eyebrow but retracts the hand, settling back in her desk.
Over the next hour, she studies Stella: her appearance, her body language, her facial expressions. She sees the way Stella fiddles with the rings in her ears and the bracelets that encase her wrists. She watches as Stella jots down barely anything in her notebook, a smirk on her face when she does. She hears Stella’s commentary on the lesson, the teacher, and their other classmates.
In the last five minutes of class, they compare schedules - at Stella’s request, of course. They manage having every other class together, along with lunch.
On their way out, Stella stops and says, “I didn’’t get your name.”
She thinks to herself, That’s because I didn’t give it. But she takes a breath anyway, and she knows, in her heart of hearts, that things are going to be different now.
Her mouth moves of its own accord, and she hears herself speak before she realizes that she has.
“Nell.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry for the wait, but here it is! Comments make my day :D