Dear Ms. Know-it-all

3

Don't consider my kindness as my weakness,

The beast inside of me is sleeping, not dead -Unknown

Much to Amethyst's dismay, Zander's searing gaze didn't leave her as she sat. Placing her things down gently and keeping her arm curled to her stomach protectively, she tried to keep her attention away from him, but decided it would take less effort for her to focus on insuring her glances remain discreet. After all, her current position, in the desk directly besides him, gave her ample opportunity to hide behind her hair as she surveyed him with distaste and suspicion.

As she surveyed him though, she began to realize how incredibly long it'd been since she'd seen him in person without immediately ensuring there was a large amount of space between them. In fact, until that moment she'd avoided the mention of his name unless it was included, as it usually seemed to be, in some incredibly juicy gossip. Now, in the brief moments that her head was not clouded with anxiety and pain, she took the time to study his stony physique. Despite her distaste for his personality, she could never convince herself that she found his looks displeasing.

His current position might be described as a relaxed sprawl; leaning back in his chair to rest his head against the wall, his legs stretched forwards in opposite directions, one arm was stretched across the desk top so he could bang his knuckled on the empty chair ahead of him. The other arm was stretched behind him as he scratched his neck, Amethyst was embarrass to admit that she watched intently as his mouthwateringly perfect bicep, showcased by the tights black t-shirt he wore, flexed at the action. Amethyst couldn't help but be reminded of the ancient statues of Greek and Roman heroes; he was built so solidly, and with such artistic perfection, that being in his presence for even a moment made her feel incredibly self-conscious.

You'd have to be crazy to think he was anything less than a 9 only the HOT scale, to bad he seems to be severely lacking in the personality-and-morals category, she conceded bitterly.

Despite this, she considered being forced to choose a seat that was directly next to him to be something that should only happed in cliché teen fictions and Hell. It was far better than sitting in the chairs that were ahead of him however; at least this position afforded her the opportunity to watch him and ensure he doesn't try anything. Still, she prayed their eyes wouldn't meet, unsure as to whether she could hold under his stare. The buzz of the classroom faded in and out as her attention drifted, every now and then the trivial gossip of her classmates broke through but news of whom was dating who didn't interest her, nor did the freshly exaggerated confrontation from earlier that day.

As she watched him warily, she noticed the way those obsidian depths were surveying her, he seemed to be searching for something, his stone expression was laced with slight confusion as he gazed at her. His head listed slightly to the side, it appeared as if he were trying to hear something better or change his view to study her at another angle. Or maybe both, after all there was plenty of gossip today, but surely he knowns who I am, she thought with a bit of annoyance, I mean, not only have we attended the same school for nearly thirteen years, but our families-

Her thoughts were cut short by the booming voice of their teacher, Mrs. Filch, causing Amethyst to jerk slightly. The way she sat now proved to be a mistake as her injured wrist smacked the edge of the desk. Pain radiated up her arm as far as its spiky talons could reach, and a whimper escaped her as tears began to well in her eyes.

Despite obviously having heard Amethyst's sounds of distress, the teacher and students showed no signs of concern, "As you all know, before I was rudely interrupted, I was informing you all of your next assignment." Amethyst could feel the icy glare of the teacher, but couldn't acknowledge it while she tried to control her breathing. She secretly wanted somebody to ask her is she was okay, which might give her the excuse to rush to the nurse. Instead she sat anxiously, slowly pulling her sleeve up to examine the damage.