It's Nothing Special

It really wasn't like him to be staring.
I looked up from the top of my book, sneaking another glance at the boy sitting a few tables down. He looked away instantly, eyes going back to the magazine on the table that he still hadn't opened. Like, he couldn't even try and pretend to read? That wasn't like him, either.
Oh, wait.
Yes it was.
Not that I've noticed, of course.
I went back to my book, determined to ignore whatever he was doing. Probably some sick and/or dumb joke. And out of all the people willing to play it... It was him?
Was that in his character or not? This was what I was pondering, mulling over, flopping back and forth in my head when I got the feeling to look up again.
He was still staring; our eyes held for a split second longer, but it was enough for me to fully register it. It hadn't been my imagination. He was actually staring. At me. The loser.
Like he's any better.
Dumb. Stupid. All of this was stupid. What a way to spend my fourth detention in two days. With some weirdo staring at me in the library. Brilliant. Fantastic plan, Krissy.
Immediately, I started to argue with myself--the notion of how it wasn't my fault that I landed in here again. Oh, wait; nobody had forced me to sprint down the rows of locker while pointing two cans of green and red spray paint, fingers slammed down on their buttons. I thought it made everything look great. Almost like thick, wavy Christmas lights without the bulbs. Our Egg-head of a principal, however, didn't think so. His face matched the color of red on the locker next to him, and even surpassed the bright shade when I pointed a can at his favorite white shirt--the one he's like always wearing. I pressed the button for a good three seconds, just relishing in those moments where he was too angry to even move. I was grinning the whole time, looking up from the expanding stain that kind of resembled blood to smile up at him. When the can sputtered out nothing but air and he finally gathered the ability to talk, he didn't stop screaming for ten minutes. Every classroom in the hall--heck, the wing--heard it. One of my finest moments, I swear.
As I stopped thinking back, I noticed that a smile had made its way onto my face. I instantly pushed it down, casting my eyes around the library to make sure nobody saw. My stare lingered on that kid for an extra moment, squinting slightly. At least the magazine's open now, but the pages he's looking at are mostly advertisements. Nobody looks at advertisements. Just what was he up to?
His eyes snapped up to meet mine. I dove back down to my book, my heartbeat ramming against the base of my throat. I instantly tried to calm myself. No big deal. Just what was I worried about? Yeah, that's right; nothing. Chill, Krissy. Chhhiiillll....
Repeating that single word, stretching it out with my eyes closed, head back, it actually started to work. I think I even dozed off for like a few minutes before the WHAP of the librarian's ruler against the table jolted me out of my sleep. I breathed some curses my mom would've gasped at as the old lady ambled back to her desk. She sat down, hawk eyes slowly sweeping across the room. I followed her stare, looking out into the deserted reading area that had students who looked even more bored than I felt. Wow, new record.
And then, Hawk Eyes said something I didn't expect: "Get some sleep for tomorrow. Detention dismissed."
I looked to the clock. 4:30. Huh. Well, heck, I'm not complaining!
I stood up, swinging my backpack over a shoulder without actually putting the strap on, just holding it by the little loopy thing at the top. Out of habit, I looked a few tables ahead of me, catching his glimpse again as he walked away.
Weirdo.