On the Brink

If there was one thing Matthew Sanders hated, it was the knowledge that people bothered him. He didn't like many people. In fact, he rarely speaks to anyone other than his friends (Brian, Zacky, Johnny and Jimmy), and when he does speak to someone else, it is mostly out of anger and disgust. He didn't like how most teens act around his school; the sluts, the bullies, the jocks, the emo kids. He held no sympathy toward any of them.

So of course, having heard about the foreign exchange program, Matt was certain he was not looking forward to having a group of new students to contend with. Matt never outright hated a person upon first impressions, or without knowing anything about them, but he knew that just because they lived on another continent didn't mean they were any different than the other kids at his school. They would probably be just as annoying and just as troublesome as his peers.

What Matt didn't expect was his sudden interest in one of the new students in a few of his classes.

Her name was Harley O'Connor and unlike most of the other students, who easily exchanged words with his peers, she sat in silence, her moss-green eyes focused the sketchpad splayed on her desk. He observes in silence as her teeth nibble absentmindedly on her bottom lip as her left hand grips a pencil carefully as it drags the granite tip across the paper. Her short, choppy black hair obscured most of her face from view, and he noticed, unlike most girls, she didn't seem overly attentive to her hair. Mostly it looked as though she brushed it quickly and left it at that. From what he could see of her face, she wore no make-up, except for simple eyeliner and artistically painted eye shadow in an array of purple and green along her eyelids. Even from where he sat, he could smell the soft, floral scent that surrounded her, not over-powering like most girls he knew. Everything about this girl seemed different, and he wasn't sure why it mattered at all.

Her stature was average, her height barely matching the height of his friend Johnny. Her build was lean and her entire body seemed rather on the petite side. Her feminine assets even seemed small, not that he minded at all, but he knew most girls craved a more rounded figure. She wore a simple pair of black skinny jeans and a black band t-shirt sporting the infamous 'The Ramones' logo across the front.

"You're really good," Matt finds himself saying before he can stop himself, his eyes shifting from the rather detailed sketch of a beautiful girl with long flowing hair.

A small squeak sounds from her throat as she jumps in her seat, her moss-green eyes snapping from her sketch to stare at him widely. He fights back a soft smile at the sight of the small 'O' her mouth made, the shock apparent in her features. Barely a moment later, he feels more amused as a soft, pink hue forms on her cheeks as she bashfully looks around at the surrounding students.

Turning back to him, she gives a shy smile as she replies, "Thank you."

"Matthew, but my friends call me Matt," he states, extending his hand, a custom that isn't normal for teens these days, but for some reason, it seemed right by her.

Tentatively, her small hand clasps his before shaking it gently, "Harley O'Connor," Matt inwardly feels a small shiver run down his spine as her accent seems to thicken her voice, "It is nice to meet ye', Matt."

Matt allows a small dimpled grin to form on his lips, "How long have you been drawing?"

"For as long as I can remember. See, I'm not the most open person, an' it helps me cope with everythin' I tend to keep bottled inside," Matt quirks an eyebrow in response, causing another blush to spread across her cheeks, "Think of it as therapy."

Matt nods in understanding, "I get you. Drawing for you is like my writing for me."

"I-I suppose so."

The bell signals the end of class and Matt moves to his feet, giving the shy girl a small good-bye before leaving the room. Ignoring the whispers from the students in his class, he moves through the halls, looking forward to his next class. Greeting Zacky Baker as he slides into the chair next to him, Matt instantly notes a beautiful red-head taking the seat next to Zacky.

"`Ello, Zacky," the girl greets with a wide grin.

"Katie," Zacky greets with a nod, motioning toward Matt, "This is my friend, Matt Sanders. Matt, this is Katherine Jacobs. Katie is one of the exchange students."

"Yeah, I met one of them already," Zacky quirks an eyebrow, Matt reading the question in his green gaze, "Her name is Harley O'Connor. Kind of quiet, but a pretty brilliant artist."

Zacky's pierced lips part, as if to respond, but Katie leans forward slightly, "Harley O'Connor? Short black hair, green eyes, blushes a lot?" Matt nods causing Katie to giggle slightly, "Oh, you probably sent her into a mild panic attack."

"How so?" Zacky asks.

"Harley is kind of neurotic. She doesn't make friends easily, but it is to be expected. The only reason why I'm friends with her is because her and I have been friends since our first year at the Academy," Katie comments, smiling at the two boys, "I do warn you, if you wish to pursue a friendship of some kind with her, to tread carefully."

"Why? I doubt she'd hurt a fly," Matt comments, thinking over the tiny girl.

"It isn't Harley you need to worry about. It's Max you have to worry about," Katie retorts, her British accent just as thick as Harley's Irish one.

"Who is Max?" the two boys ask.

"Maximus O'Connor," Katie starts off, "is pretty violent and easily pressed toward a negative response. Compared to Harley, Maximus differs greatly on a personality scale."

Matt nods, taking the information for later use, "So, when do I have the pleasure of meeting him?"

"You'll see Max around at times. Harley tends to keep to herself a lot, versus Max who has no problem stepping into the spotlight," Katie says, trailing off as the teacher steps into the room, breaking their conversation short.

Matt ponders over the idea of two siblings who have nothing in common. It's normal for siblings to clash, but Katie makes it sound as though they hardly speak to each other. Do they look alike? Who's older? Are they twins? What does Max feel when it comes to his sister dating?

...

Matt shakes his head at his last thought. He doesn't even know Harley, though she is different, in a good way, he can't think about her in that manner. Perhaps he should just leave her be. She definitely seemed like the type of girl to hide herself behind her fringed bangs and sketchpads.

As the class breaks into lab groups, Matt reverts to his usual quiet self. His hazel-gold eyes observe in his silence as Zacky and the exchange student chatter. Katie was shorter than Harley, by at least a few inches, and her body carried more curves. Her rich red hair flowed over her shoulders in delicate waves and amber brown eyes lit with genuine glee. Despite her rather pristine and well-put-together style, Katie did not come off as stuck up, but instead seemed truly down to Earth. Unlike Harley, who wore only eyeliner and eye shadow, Katie wore clear lip gloss over her naturally rose pink lips and her brown eyeliner seemed to be lightly applied, golden eye shadow dusted over her eyelids. Another girl that wore make-up that enhanced her natural beauty, rather than decorating her face with outrageous colors and heavily applied foundations.

Through his observation, he learned Katie was poor in Science and Math classes, her best classes being History and English. The girl wanted to become a famous pastry chef, which explained the subtle aroma of baked goods that surrounded the girl. She love all kinds of music, instead of listening to only one style of music. He also noticed she seemed to be quite a ditz, but it only added to her charismatic charm.

"So, Matt, Zacky says you're a writer," Matt grunts gently, nodding in acknowledgment to the statement, "See, I wish I had that kind of talent. Max and Harley both are very talented, though as usual in different areas of art."

"How so?" Matt finds himself asking, receiving an odd glance from his friend Zacky.

"Well, as you know, Harley is already a brilliant sketch artist, but she also paints and has an odd fascination with mosaics. She also has some pretty decent vocals when it comes to singing, but she's so nervous talking to one person, she has no intentions on getting up on a stage in front of many," Katie pauses, jotting down the answer to one of the problems on the paper, "Max on the other hand is musically talented. He can make a song about any subject. He can play the guitar, bass, violin, piano, pretty much anything with a string. He has no problem being put on display in front of a crowd, but his arrogance has gotten him into some fights."

Matt, about to respond, was cut off by the sound of another class bell. The trio packed up their things and with mumbled words of parting, Matt turns on heel at the door and walks away from Zacky and the girl, who were headed in the other direction. Turning around the corner, he grunts as another body slams into his, the sound of his school books hitting the floor causing the entire hall to fall silent.

"Watch where the fuck you're going," Matt sneers as he catches his balance.

"Oh my! I am so sorry," a squeaky voice stutters out with a familiar Irish tilt to it.

Turning his gaze downward, Matt recognizes the ebony-haired girl kneeling on the floor to collect the fallen books. Harley. He could see from the blush staining her cheeks that she was aware of the sudden audience watching the altercation, her hands shaking as they pile a few of the books in her arms. Matt inwardly groans as his body quickly responds, dropping onto one knee to help gather the fallen books, despite his mind cursing at him for helping such a klutz. After the final book is off the ground, the girl shoots upright faster than Matt can react and stutters out another apology before side-stepping his still-kneeling form and disappearing around the corner.

Just who the hell was this girl? Since when did Matthew Sanders help someone pick up fallen books? Especially after they crash into him? He could already hear the faint whispers of speculation and turned a glare on the bystanders. Immediately the whispers fall silent as he moves to his feet and down the hall.

God damn did he hate people.