Darkling

9| History

Chapter 9: History (Clara's POV)

I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria with Daisy and she was telling me about how some people in her Art class were talking about the scene that took place yesterday, but I wasn't really listening. 

I don't understand what it is with Callum Nikolai. I do want to know him, but I don't quite understand why. He's like a mystery I'm very eager to solve, but I don't want anybody to know that I'm trying to solve it. 

"Daisy," I sighed. 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Of course." 

"Why is everyone so scared of Callum?" 

She stopped eating and everything else with it. I don't know if she was even breathing. "I don't really know," she cleared her throat. 

"Why are you so scared of him?" 

"I'm not scared of him, per se. I just don't mess with him. Ignorance is bliss, you know. But make it avoidance." 

"But why is he so... what is the word for it?" 

"Intimidating?" 

"No." 

"Secretive?" 

"Kind of." 

"Mysterious?" 

"Yeah!" I slumped in my seat. "I want to know more about him, don't you?" 

She looked at me like I was crazy. Which, maybe I am for admitting that. "No, Clara. No, I don't." 

"I don't get it," I mumbled. "He seems normal to me, just a little mysterious and... dark." 

That's the word for him. 

He's a mess of gorgeous chaos, and you can see it in his eyes. 

"What I don't understand is why you want to—" She stopped talking, looking behind me, tilting her head up a little. Clearly, someone is standing behind me. 

I turned around and looked up, seeing Callum and Wyatt. 

"Hey," Wyatt grinned, sitting in the chair to my left on our round table for four. 

And then Callum sat in the seat to my right. 

I looked between the two of them and then at the rest of the cafeteria. Who was staring and whispering not-so-discreetly? 

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked. 

"He brought me," Wyatt said, nodding at Callum while setting his bag on the ground. 

I turned to Callum, lifting a brow. He spent his entire free period in my room and we talked a little bit. He asked me questions and I answered. He would dodge all of mine. I told him about moving here, my life in New York, but the accident was off-limits. For him, everything was off-limits. 

"Have you done your history essay?" he asked, ignoring the look I gave him. 

"Yeah, I did it before sleeping last night." 

"Do you want me to submit it for you? He didn't ask for it, but he doesn't normally accept late assignments," he informed me. 

I was about to answer but then I realized that the entire room was silent. And staring. "Why is it so quiet here?" I mumbled. 

"Because he's making history," Wyatt snorted, wincing when Callum kicked his leg under the table. 

"Making history?" I questioned.