The Unusual Suspects

Jersey
“No, having an Instagram DOESN’T make you artsy!” I exclaimed through laughter “Internet photography is so passé” I apologized silently to 6FeetUnderTheSun, who made my life this morning with a new worm’s-eye shot of the Eiffel Tower lit up on a summer night. Skye had to threaten to pour her latte on my laptop if I didn’t hurry up and get ready for my class. Not that she would waste her precious Ash-crafted Starbucks.
“That’s so not true!” Mack argued passionately, “The benefit of our generation having this kind of technology is that it does help artists become more well known.” He leaned back in his chair, seeming pleased with his retort.
“I like a good photo blog just as must as the next photographer. I’m simply just calling out all the posers who think they’re artsy for posting poorly-edited photos of cigarettes and trees and whatnot.” I adjusted my navy beanie on my head for the millionth time, and believe me, Mack noticed. Something about this boy made me feel as bubbly as Skye after her third cup of coffee.
He grabbed my beanie off my head, “Stop messing with it! You’re making me nervous.”
“Why would you be nervous?” I asked
“Because it’s been a week and we still haven’t gone out for sushi, as promised.” He grinned.
“Touché. When is your cousin going to propose to my best friend?” I blushed, changing the subject
“Ash? Come on, we both know he’s not that ballsy.” Mack rolled his eyes “This kid would rather stay in the friendzone his whole life than actually admit anything.”
“Well, let’s help ‘em out!” I exclaimed. I wanted Skye to be happy, and I knew for a fact that Ash was the answer.
“How so?” Mack questioned.
Before I could answer, Ms. Fitzinger entered the photo lab with a stack of papers. “Assignment time!” she said cheerily, handing out the papers at each table. I didn’t have any time to look at it—I was too distracted by Mack’s perfectly-gelled black-and-caramel-highlighted hair, his watery brown golden retriever eyes, and that irresistible dorky grin that enveloped me in this warmth that rivaled my daily morning hot chocolate. But I didn’t have to look because everybody knew what it was. It was that time of year again…
Big Tony wildly shook the pink flyer in the air and hopped up on the rustic table “Oh my God! Notte di Mistero! My favorite dance of the year, yo!” he waved his hands in the dark room fumes-filled air in a Jersey Shore-style fist-pump. Before he could give our teacher a complete aneurysm, he leaned down in front of an annoyed Chloe and turned his swagger on
Chloe rolled her eyes “It’s your favorite dance only because you don’t have to see the faces of the girls you’re making out with” she snorted
“Aye boo boo, you know these lips only make contact with Wash Arts’ finest” he made sloppy kissing noises
“I concur” Chloe grumbled, casting her eyes down irritably at the flyer in her hands
I practically lit up with sheer excitement. Notte di Mistero was WashArts’ annual masquerade ball—therefore, a “night of mystery” in Italian. Every season for the past twenty-seven years there had to be a major, one-of-a-kind, so-romantic-it’ll-make-Shakespeare-green-with-envy dance. Notte di Mistero was arguably everybody’s favorite. Since everyone was in masks, it was a perfect time for hooking up without having to worry about who you’re probably going to get pregnant or pass your diseases on too (beware of a certain head of neon orange. No one was ever really completely masked). It also occurred around the same time the trees changed colors—a photographer’s dream.
“BIG TONY. GET OFF THE TABLE.” Ms. Fitzinger had to yell over all the commotion. Big Tony obeyed reluctantly and sat back down on his stool, pulling out his cell phone to text Donte. “Okay, students,” she began, “your first major assignment this unit is to create a photographic poster that allures to the idea of a masquerade or mystery to display around the school to advertise the dance. Your assignment is due at the end of the week, and must include all the important criteria listed on the handout—the more eye-catching the better! Each poster must pertain to the individual photographer, meaning shoot something that is important to you rather than what everyone else is doing. Oh yeah, and PARTNERS! No way am I grading thirty single flyers. Working in partners will also train for you for your professional careers. Studios require teamwork!”
“Hear that Jerz?” Mack turned to me in his stool “Studios require teamwork?” he raised his bushy eyebrows at me with an adorable grin that made me burst out laughing.
“Stop that, you’re hurting my lungs” I giggled
“That’s not the only thing that should be hurting. Your bravado’s in trouble now. If we’re going to be partners, we’re going to use digital cameras—my way!”
“Who says we’re going to be partners?” I flirtatiously asked “What if I want to work with Big Tony?”
“Ladie’s Man over there seems pretty content with Miss ‘I Concur’” he pointed over at Big Tony, who was on the verge of pulling a Fernando and ripping apart his Donald Duck T-shirt in pure excitement over the assignment. Chloe was shaking her head, looking like she was about to call up Shi Huanghdi to pull this hyperactive maniac off of her. She did not concur.
“Dammit Big Tony, why does nerdy vocabulary turn you on so much?” I muttered. He hangs out with Donte. What did you expect, with all that rapping in slang?
“What? I thought you liked me” Mack mocked like he was offended.
“Sorry Mack, you just can’t please me the way Big Tony can” the minute I said it Big Tony’s shredded shirt fell atop the decoupage tabletop, and Ms. Fitzinger sent him whooping and hollering like a forty-year-old Italian man outside of the lab until he could calm the heck down—and find a sweatshirt in Fernando’s unused closet.
“No, really, I hate digital photography. No way am I working with you and your mainstream ass” I stuck my tongue out at him defiantly.
His brown eyes sparkled fiercely with a challenge. I wanted to touch him, but not in a Tommy-like way. At the thought of creepy Tommy, nausea rose up in me. I’d been ignoring his texts all last week but I could tell the consequences of my drunken haze disaster would follow me for a while. I couldn’t avoid him forever. It vaguely reminded me of some cheap piece of cheesy teen horror film.
“Too bad babe. We’re partners now. Ms. Fitzinger said it herself—we gotta learn how to work with other photographers if we wanna make it big out there. Besides, I need a pretty face to take pictures of and while Chloe’s ‘cute’ and all, you make better conversation than ‘I concur’. Besides, you need me too. This face is just too swell to resist, and you know it”
Why did he have to have so many points AND be so charming?
I groaned in exasperation “you win this time” I admitted, mocking defeat but secretly bursting with happiness that he’d called me ‘pretty’. Even though I heard it all the time from sketchy guys in bars on nights where I got really stupid, it felt different coming from Mack.
“No, I believe I won. I got you to agree to be my partner” he grinned “you, me, quad this afternoon at 4. We’ll have a head start. Oh, and I’ll bring the sushi. My treat” he winked
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re amazingly self-assured?” I asked
“I tell myself that every day” he puffed out his cheeks obnoxiously.
“Swell.” Ms. Fitzinger dismissed the class and I packed up my bag, “See you at 4” I called over my shoulder and walked away, knowing he was watching.
So swell.
Later that afternoon, I stood in front of the three-fold mirror in my empty dorm room—why did I barely see Skye anymore?—dressed in a lavender sundress with a gold-threaded sweetheart neckline and hem. Mack had texted me saying to wear a dress, and when I had replied asking what kind, he gave me a vague ‘any kind’ and stopped replying. Typical boy. I slipped on my favorite gold gladiator sandals with the ties that go up my calves and swiped on some olive green eyeliner, a little black mascara, and my favorite coral Mac Lipglass in Kitten. I hoped that was “masquerade” enough.
I stepped out onto the quad and immediately noticed Mack waiting for me by my favorite oak tree. He had laid out an obnoxious blue tarp, probably stolen from the maintenance staff, and it was covered with his big black Jansport backpack and high-tech camera case.
“If you’re going to sell me drugs, you should’ve thought of a less open place to do it.” I smirked playfully, taking in his cute-but-sketchy setup.
He ignored my comment, “You look beautiful.” He said. My heart flipped upside down and back again in my chest. I smoothed my dress and sat down on the tarp.
“Thank you.” I smiled sweetly.
“Gosh. I was hoping for a sarcastic remark or a challenge.” Mack teased.
“I like to keep ‘em guessing.” I laughed.
“I brought food” he fiddled with the zipper on his bookbag. Was Mack…blushing?
“Sushi?”
“Yup” he grinned. He opened up his bag and pulled out two little rectangular trays of tuna-avocado rolls and a bag of double-stuffed Oreos.
“Whenever I eat a double-stuffed Oreo, I have the ‘maybe God does love me’ feeling” I laughed.
“I brought chocolate milk too. The line at Starbucks was too long and my d-bag cousin wasn’t letting me cut ahead.” He rolled his eyes jokingly.
“Disown him, immediately!” I exclaimed.
“Na. Ash isn’t getting rid of me that easily.” He passed me a pair of chopsticks and I popped the plastic lid off my sushi tray. Yum.
I popped a sushi roll in my mouth “maybe you should get rid of him. Pawn him off on Skye. He wouldn’t mind”
“Neither would she.” He laughed, trying to dip his roll in soy sauce but dropping the whole thing in there instead.
We talked and finished our food five minutes later, then proceeded with the assignment.
“So what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, ready for whatever crazy assignment Mack was going to propose.
He was beginning to set up his heavy equipment, which looked almost as expensive as Vladimir’s ugly Russian shoes. Oddly, more expensive- and advanced-looking for the equipment the school funded for the program, even for the advanced students. I brushed it off. Maybe Mack just got lucky with these European dealers.
“Put this on,” he thrust something gold and sparkly in my direction and I caught it. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, a masquerade mask that I eerily suspected was real gold, encrusted with violet gems and jade green ribbon around the edges. I was afraid I was going to break it.
“The drama club must’ve had some extra budget money this year. But isn’t stealing frowned upon, Mack?” I teased
“I got it last summer in Florence. It was an impulse buy, but I’m glad it can be put to use.” He looked like he was deep in thought.
“It’s beautiful.” I gasped, feeling the silky green ties on the sides, “Can you help me put it on?” I asked
He finished positioning his camera and came over. I held the lovely mask to my face and his cool fingertips brushed my neck and he tied it in the back. I shivered.
“You okay?” he stepped back once the mask was set in place.
“Yeah” I replied, “How does it look?”
“Better on you than it did on me.” He laughed, “All set?”
“Ready. Where should I stand?”
“Just lean up against the tree and look adorable, ‘kay?” he replied.
“Should I hug it?” I asked
“Hug what?”
“The tree”
“Jersey!” he cried, mock exasperated, “Don’t make me regret not asking Big Tony to model for me!”
“Okay. I’ll just stand here and duck face.”
“Now I really wish Big Tony was here.” He groaned.
“Careful what you wish for...” He was so cute when he was in his photographer zone.
“Do that face you make when Ms. Fitzinger is showing one of those dumb slideshows.” He said suddenly
“Complete boredom?”
“Trust me, it’ll work.”
I did what I was told and Mack shot. And shot. And shot. I was actually getting into it, changing up poses and making different facial expressions. Mack just kept snapping away with his camera, wordless. It was really sexy in a way. At one point he paused and pushed his hair out of his eyes and the sleeve on his t-shirt brushed up. I noticed a tattoo of an Indian-looking sun on his bicep and some words written in another language around it. I’d have to ask him about it later.
We took pictures until the sun began to set and we decided to call it a day.
“Can I see them?” I asked as we were walking back to Neubauma Hall.
“Not yet.” He answered simply.
“How did they look?”
He looked at me intensely with those deep brown eyes. Suddenly they held something more than just the normal playful shine they usually had. He answered with one word:
“Spectacular”

Skye
One of the many benefits of being at a boarding school is that you can basically go out whenever you want. The students at WashArts kind of get to live the lives of college students. So, say, if a certain barista asked you to hang out on a Monday night, all you’d have to do is sign out and be back by 12—Shi Huangdi’s orders.
Ash sent me an Inkling today during Advanced Lit Comp asking if I wanted to hang out tonight, maybe grab some coffee outside of WashArts—Ash was funny. He worked at the Starbucks kiosk, but he absolutely refused to drink Starbucks coffee. I, on the other hand, only drank Starbucks. But, c’mon it was Ash. I could get hot chocolate or something. We agreed to meet at the dining hall at 6.
I slipped on a vintage-looking bright yellow sundress and beige espadrilles that I borrowed from Maryah last year and never got around to returning. After using a curling iron to put a few soft waves in my hair, I touched up my makeup, grabbed my purse, headed out the door…
…And ran right into Michael.
“Hey, watch it!” I cried, annoyed at whoever was walking the halls of Neubauma with their head up their arse. And then I looked up. Fuck.
“Hey, Skye-boo.” He grinned, calling me by the pet name I once adored. My heart rose up in my throat. I was going to puke.
“Michael.” I gasped for breathe, “Thought you moved to Brazil.”
I took him in. He was still good-looking. Okay, that was an understatement. He looked amazing. His skin was tan from the summer, and his dark brown hair grazed his eyelashes, long and lush, framing hazel eyes.
Calm, Skye I told myself. He and Cassidy slept together last year when we were together. He was the reason I hated Cassidy. And I hated him. Oh, I hated him!
“They couldn’t handle me,” he shrugged in that nonchalant way that never failed to piss me off, “They have me living in Garretson Hall this year.”
Washington Arts had three dorms. Neubauma was the co-ed dorm, for juniors and seniors, plus the occasion lucky sophomore. Garretson was for the underclassmen boys, and Sherrandoh was for the underclassmen girls. The lower school kids had dorms too, but we didn’t count them.
“Don’t blame them.” I passively said. I needed to get away from Michael. I felt as if my not-so distant past was coming back to haunt me.
“Where are you headed, gorgeous?” he grinned that cocky asshole grin. I wanted to slap it off his face.
“Away from you.”
“Ouch. Missed you too. Really though, where are all the other Suspects? I’ve never seen you without your appendages.” He rolled his eyes. That was it.
“I’m meeting Ash. You know, the guy who picked up the pieces after you broke my heart last spring? And stay away from my friends!” I shouted, “Stay away from me!”
I stormed off angrily, leaving asshole Michael and his asshole smile behind.
I was still fuming when I saw Ash waiting for me outside the dining hall. He was holding a huge Starbucks latte in his right hand.
“Brought you this.” He seemed to read my face, “What happened?”
We walked through the bug wrought-iron gates that were the exit to WashArts and the entrance to Georgetown.
“Michael.” I could barely talk right now so Ash would have to deal with one word phrases for the time being.
“No.” he gasped, his green eyes widening.
“Yes.”
“He’s at WashArts?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he was going to Brazil or something?” he asked. I knew Ash hated Michael for hurting me.
“Nope.”
“You ran into him at Neubauma?”
“Yes. Fucking asshole.” Three words, there you go.
“Skylar.” Ash drawled sympathetically in his adorable accent. He led me into Georgetown Cupcake, “Michael is going to taunt you, but you can’t let him bother you. That’s what he wants. That’s what Cassidy wants.” He stopped at the cupcake counter and spoke to the busty cashier, “Two red velvet please.” I loved how he knew my favorite kind of cupcake. He pulled out his wallet and paid the cashier, who looked absolutely smitten with Ash, his hair, and his accent. We grabbed a table out front.
“He was totally in Neubauma looking for me.” I ranted, “He wanted a reaction. He’s trying to get to me.” I bit ferociously into my cupcake. I felt tears springing to my eyes.
“That’s why you can’t let him. Dudes like that aren’t worth your tears.” He brushed the falling teardrop away with his hand.
“I wish someone told me that this summer when I was crying over him every day.” It hurt to think about last summer. June and July were the toughest months, and in August I was so anxious to get back to WashArts and my Unusuals that I stopped caring—for the most part.
“Think happy thoughts.”
“Well,” I thought, “There’s this girl in my Advanced Lit Comp class. And she’s kind of sort of my soulmate.” I thought of Catherine, her private school ensembles, and her amazing poetry.
“I’ve been replaced?!” Ash gasped, mock-offended.
“I just like you for your coffee. She’s my literary soulmate.” I corrected.
“Wasn’t she hanging out with Cassidy at the party?” Ash wondered
“I’m working on that.” I replied
“I heard Demetri Bolshevik has his eye on her.” Ash lowered his voice scandalously.
“Her and every girl at WashArts” I rolled my eyes “He’s the male version of Cassidy!”
“No, that’s…never mind.” He trailed off. He was going to say Michael, I’m glad he didn’t. “That’s Tommy!” he added
“Don’t even get me started on Tommy.” I was tired of hearing Jersey’s Nokia buzz loudly in the middle of the night with texts from that loser.
“My cousin was asking me about Jersey.”
“Mack? They were taking photos today on the quad.” I remembered Jersey agonizing about her outfit while I was trying to do my makeup artistry homework.
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Ash grinned.
“That’s dead. I’d rather have her bumping privates with Mack than with Tommy.” If they haven’t already, I added bitterly to myself.
“Skylar!“ He clamped his hands over his ears and stuck out his tongue, “I don’t want to hear about my cousin bumping privates with anyone!”
“Maybe they’ll got to Notte di Mistero together.” I grinned. I was happy for my best friend who seemed to be getting more smitten with this Mack guy the minute. She hasn’t even been on Tumblr as much lately.
“Are you going?” he asked suddenly
“I kind of have to. I promised Jessica she could design my dress.” Jess had told me I was her best mannequin.
“I’m sure she won’t disappoint. We should go together.” he said quickly.
“I mean, aren’t all of the Unusuals going as a group?” I confirmed
He paused, “…Yeah. That’s what I meant.” His grin faded slightly and popped back up just as fast. Ash…
“Sounds awesome!” I hated how fake I sounded. I reminded myself of the annoying summer camp counselor we all used to make fun when I was ten
“Want to head back?” he pushed his chair back and asked.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” I replied. He slung his arm around me—our usual gesture—and we left the cupcake shop.
On the way back, I thought about how nice it felt just to have Ash’s arm around me. He was the perfect friend and he always knew how to cheer me up. Just that little gesture, the one that has become so standard that I barely noticed anymore, suddenly felt different. Ash would be the perfect boyfriend.
But we were both ready and willing to take the risk?

Catherine
The second week. It was the second week and we were already dissecting something.
I didn't like this.
"The goal of this assignment is to investigate the anatomical systems of a cat" Mr. Petrocelli boomed, pulling on a pair of medical gloves. He stood in the front of the room at the main lab station, towering over a dead, chemical-reeking cat in a greased dissection tray. He took a scalpel and began poking its exposed innards. I almost fainted.
I'm sure he'd mentioned the upcoming dissection ten times but I hadn't been listening (I'd been busy glancing over at my gorgeous, introverted lab partner) so when I'd walked in the classroom a mere five minutes ago and saw the dead cats in their trays on every lab station and took a whiff of the disgusting preservatives they were drenched in, I was paralyzed in horror.
It wasn't like I was squeamish about blood or guts... okay, I kind of was, but I wasn't a total phobic. There was a reason why I'd chosen to take biology for my core science credit over whatever scarily-complex science Vladimir liked telling me about on The Quill chat He certainly didn't hesitate chatting me the minute he saw that I was logged on
So the reason why I was shaking in horror at my lab station--with my gloves and goggles and worn leathery apron, standing next to Shadow at Station 12-- was because of the cats. Poor, little, adorable, defenseless animals dead in rusty, greased-up trays, about to be cut up by a bunch of teenagers. As a devoted animal lover, it made me sick.
After stating some rules Mr. Petrocelli let us begin. Although complaining about throwing up their morning lattes, every other lab station dove into the assignment right away. Soon enough, eleven dead cats were being eviscerated. At Lab Station 12, our cat lay perfectly untouched.
I gulped. I hadn't realized how badly I was shaking and sweating. I felt nauseous and my head was spinning and we hadn't even put one scar on the cat's body yet. I looked up at Shadow--my only hope for an A in this class--but he was as lost as I was. His handsome face was blank as his blue eyes took in the cat, and I noticed how great he looked in his apron and goggles. Every day since class started he's worn the same black leather jacket but today he'd taken it off, revealing how toned his arms and chest were in his short-sleeved gray T-shirt. Maybe the dead cat didn't hold all the blame for my dizziness and sweating...
"So uhm..." he awkwardly ran a hand through his dark hair. I put a hand over my mouth. The preservative fumes were killing me, or was he just really intoxicating?
He averted his eyes on me "You don't look too good" he informed
"I think you should start" I muttered weakly. I was gripping the edges of the stationtop to keep myself up. I couldn't even stand straight.
He grabbed the instructions sheet and looked it over. "It says to first crack open the skull with this hammer"
What?
He picked up an old, overused hammer from the tools tray Mr. Petrocelli had given us and steadily held it over the cat's head, ready to drop it down, until I stopped him and cried out
"Wait, no!"
"What?!" he snapped. He turned to face me and those wonderful blue eyes looked at me irritated. If I hadn't been lost of color in my face, I'd be redder than Linzay's hair.
"Please don't hurt it" I protested shakily
"God, what is wrong with you?" he rolled his eyes "It's DEAD. It doesn't care!"
"How can you SAY that?" I snapped back. Whatever it was--dizziness, nausea, or my frustration with Shadow--it was making me feel more upset than I already was. He was pretty but I wasn't going to put up with his attitude now.
"Just because it's dead doesn't mean you can just abuse it. That cat used to be alive. It used to have feelings! It---Aahh!!"
I screamed when Shadow, as I'd been talking, took the hammer and smashed it against the cat's skull with brash, careless force. It split open with a sickening "crack!".
Shadow looked back at me, face hard, eyes cold and annoyed. I speechlessly stared down at the cat, its head bloody and deformed. And everything went black.

I woke up in the nurse's office.
I was lying on a cot and stared up at bright lights against a starch white ceiling. My head was propped up on an itchy pillow and a cool wet cloth was spread out on my forehead. I felt clammy and weak all over. I must've fainted in class.
Smooth.
“You awake?”
“Aah!” I screamed again. My head hurt and my vision was blurred. I cringed.
“Wow, you scream a lot, don’t you?” I glanced over and saw Shadow (oh, Jesus…) sitting on the cot across the tiny room from me. He was slouched forward, leaning in closer to me, with his hands folded and his eyes sympathetic. Or annoyed. I could never tell with him. He was so cryptic.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, panicked. Was my hair sticking up in the back? Did my breath stink? Oh God, why did I have to faint? He probably thought I was so lame.
“I’ve been here for three hours waiting for you to wake up” he sounded annoyed now. I cringed. “After you dropped dead in Bio, I had to carry you here” he waved his arm to gesture towards the room. The Nurse’s office. “By the way, we’re gonna fail that lab” he grumbled. He didn’t seem like he cared that much about grades anyway.
But I was barely paying attention. He lost me at ‘I had to carry you here’. I felt my body heating up, and then freeze. He’d CARRIED me here?? The image of Shadow carrying my limp, colorless body all the way across campus with his toned, hot biceps. My body temperature was changing at a horrendously fast pace between hot and cold, and I hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous I was.
“So should I normally expect this from you in class?” his annoyance faded and a small grin played at his lips. Something in his blue eyes looked at me amused. I realized two things: one, I’ve never heard him talk this much and two, I’ve never seen him come close to smiling. And it was all at me. He certainly wasn’t making this recovery fast enough.
“I mean, I’m not…” I gulped, trying to regain my composure and speech. My mouth was dry, and it was like tornados were stripping through my head. Shadow handed me a plastic cup of water, but I couldn’t drink it. His cool fingers touched mine for the briefest second and if I wasn’t half-delusional I would’ve said with confidence that an electrical spark flew between our fingertips, but when he jerked his hand away I was absolutely sure of it.
“It’s not like I’m easily freaked out or anything” I mumbled quickly. “I just…” I hesitated admitting it. What if he thought I was more lame than I already proved?
“Just what?” he asked intently
“I just really like animals” I shrugged. That was kind of a lie. I really loved animals, especially the abandoned ones in the shelters. When I was alone and friendless, I always had my horse Pumpkin or my Boston Terrier Lacey for company. Animals were much better friends than Catholic school softball girls.
He raised his eyebrows. It was really cute. “You like animals?”
“Yeah” I played it off like it was no big deal, but I couldn’t fool him or myself. I started sounding pretty emotional as I thought back. “I used to have this puppy, a Boston Terrier. We called her Lacey, because she liked to attack shoe laces” I giggled at the memory “She was the cutest thing, and she was this tiny ball of energy who made me laugh on my roughest days. But we had to leave her behind for the move. I miss her” I looked back up at the ceiling so he couldn’t see how sad I must’ve looked.
I glanced back over at him, hoping I didn’t look as crappy as I looked. I couldn’t tell if he was listening carefully and deep in thought or not paying attention and didn’t care. Whatever. I felt like I needed to let that out before it could totally tear me up inside. ‘
“Wait, you said ‘the move’?” Okay, he’d been listening but that didn’t exactly entail that he cared.
“Yeah. I’m not exactly from around here” Like he needed a reminder.
He seemed pretty interested now. “Where are you from?” he asked
“Salem” I said
His small grin from earlier turned into a full-on one. “Salem? So you’re, like, a witch or something?”
His smile dropped (no, it was so pretty) once he saw my face, which was burning up at his comment.
“Sorry, I… didn’t mean…” his cheeks blushed (whoa) and he cast his eyes down. He began uncomfortably playing with his hands, which from a week of sitting next to him I knew was his nervous tick. “If that, like, offended you I’m sorry”
I could tell he wasn’t used to being this open and talkative. He must’ve thought the witch comment was going too far, but it was hardly that at all. He looked pretty uncomfortable. Well, that made two of us.
“No, that didn’t offend me” I smiled, and he looked up to see. His blush faded, and the small grin returned (yes!). “I thought that was kind of cute” Too much?
“Really? So I can call you Witch Girl now?” he grinned wider, revealing his perfectly white teeth. He reached a whole new level of “pretty”. I was ready to burst inside.
“Or maybe you can call me Cat” I offered. I thought back to yesterday in Advanced Comp Lit, when Skye had burst out and called me ‘Cat’. Other than Big Daddy’s embarrassing childish nickname, I’ve never really been called anything but Catherine. Boring, proper Catherine. Cat seemed cooler and more fun. Kind of what I wished to be, if I only knew how.
“Cat” he smiled outright, and mental fireworks exploded. “I like that”
I blushed, but then stopped when the door to the Nurses’ Office suddenly burst open. I didn’t know that was possible in such a cramped room. I expected to see the Nurse, excusing me from my classes for the rest of the day (if there were still classes to attend), but instead I saw “Shi Huangdi” standing in the doorway, hair perfectly pulled back and face flushed with fury. I heard Skye mention the nickname of our dorm supervisor last week. I didn’t get the name, but she told me it was a historical reference to some ancient dictator. After being here for a week, I understood why and I wasn’t normally one to disrespect authority, or catch on to things.
“Boy? You have a BOY in here?!” she screeched. Then she stormed over to the cot where Shadow sat in her I’d-rather-be-at-Harvard heels (that’s what Skye said when describing her clothes. Not that I was one to judge about fashion, considering my trapped state in pink church clothes). She grabbed his ear and lurched him towards the door. Even cringing in pain and cursing her out under his breath, his face still looked like a stunning work of art. And God, how I hated him for it.
“Ms. Polizzi, I understand you’re new here and aren’t familiar with the Washing Arts Code of Conduct, but boys are not allowed in rooms with no windows and posters of sexual diagrams” she pointed to a poster of STD’s and genitalia that I hadn’t noticed before (oh, crap. I’m going to hell). “Mr. Greyson, seeing as though you are not sick, you may return to your final period. We will discuss what punishment should be fitting for skipping five periods to talk to Ms. Polizzi here”
Shadow blushed, and I couldn’t get over how adorable he was. Before today I had never seen a drop of any emotion on his face and I didn’t know what to make that I had been the one to bring it out in him. In the last week I’ve heard people talking from afar, like in the library or cafeteria, gossiping about him and how scary or quiet or moody he was. Apparently he wasn’t the most sought-after guy on campus. And after what Jinx and Linzay told me on the second day I couldn’t look at him without envisioning him being puppy dog-in-love with Cassidy and feeling crushed, but now I felt really confused… and flattered? I don’t know. This whole thing was as complicated and hard to understand as Shadow himself was.
Shi Huangdi thrust Shadow out through the doorway, but he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder at me. He gave me another pretty grin and I couldn’t contain my returning smile.
“We should have more moments like this… Cat” he lazily pointed a finger at me, winked at Shi Huangdi—I could tell it was to piss her off, and it worked—and with one last glance at me, walked out of the Nurse’s Office and out of sight. Leaving me all alone with the Dictator, as Skye had called her a number of times.
But I hardly cared. I was reeling from what had just happened. It felt too surreal to be real.
Maybe Shadow was more than what people thought. Then again, maybe I was too.