Stubborn Eyes

N°2

We arrived at Baba's on Friday. We went shopping for our bags and necessities all weekend. And now, it's Monday. Marcus and I had to get up at 6 AM to get ready for school. I made us some bacon and eggs with toast, got ourselves dressed, Baba woke up at 7, when we were just about to leave and bid us luck for our first day and then we left. I texted Lucy that we were leaving and she could call but she must have been asleep, seeing she didn't reply or her status didn't change from 'invisible' to 'active.' I sighed and set my phone down and walked with my brother to school, the streets messy and wet and slippery, but at least they were a better option than walking on the gross grass.

Marcus sighed, "I hate it, I don't wanna go to school."

"Stop whining like a baby," I grunted, rolling my eyes.

He pouted and huffed but gave in, seeing that I wasn't at anytime going to change my mind. We walked over to a gate, black and tall with a few bits of rust here and there, curved and shaped like lions and leaves and wings. The walls and building were scarlet red with white or grey or cream brown on the edges and sides, with the roof being a dark brown, almost like chocolate. The playground had a few trees and a basketball court, I saw a toy box for the little kids in the distance. It was my turn to sigh. We'd arrived too early. I sat down and pulled out my phone and earbuds from my pockets. I watched as Marcus played on his while listening to his friends swear and throw threats at each other's faces like the big babies they were.

I looked at the time, it was 7:30. School was going to start in half an hour. I looked up and saw a few kids starting to walk over to us, mumbling words about their holidays and what they did on their 'last days of freedom.' It didn't take long for classmates and teachers to gather around, and by 7:45, the gates were opened and we went in, my brother finding some guys his age to play with and me sitting by a tree and scrolling through Instagram.

At 7:55 the bells rang and we were separated into our classes, me being in the class 1B. We sat down and took our little spaces. I found myself at the back, meaning I had to walk more, but it didn't matter, at least I didn't have to suffer from embarrassment from being at the front. I sat at the right of the classroom from my point of view, close to the water dispenser in case if i'm thirsty. Suddenly, a boy pulled a seat next to me and smiled. "Hey!" he smiled.

I looked at him up and down. While I was wearing blue denim shorts with a light grey tank top and a green hoodie tied around my waist, he wore long but tight dark grey sweatpants with a blue and white striped shirt and a black beanie on his head. He had long and messy black dreadlocks that he had to push out of the way from time to time seeing they blocked his eyesight.

"Hey?" I said with a raised brow, confusion written all over my face while his was caked in optimism.

"I'm Parker," he said, quieter.

I nodded. "Levi."

The guy saw my leg and gasped. "Wow, what happened to you?"

I rolled my eyes. Most people would always joke about it or talk something revolved around my leg at the hospital, I was praying he didn't say anything like it. I sighed and replied, "I got in an accident month ago."

Parker seemed to be a bit confused before saying, "That's great! Man, you're lucky! My granddad lost his legs and is too weak to walk around. You must be a tough guy."

I realised his accent had an odd foreign touch to it. "You sounds different," I said.

"Hm?" he looked at me funny before laughing and smiling. "Oh yeah! I'm from London!" He then grinned at me and said, "You don't sound Bulgarian."

"Nah," I shook my head with a shrug, "I mean, yeah, but I've grown up with my parents and American movies, so no."

"Really? That's wicked."

Seconds later, as if right on queue, our teacher came in. She was tall and thin at the waist, but with large hips and a big chest. Her hair was shoulder length and curved at the end, thin and straight. Her skin was pale and her eyes were icy blue and deadly, luckily hidden and tucked away behind her bottom-framed glasses. "Good morning," she said to us in Bulgarian. I blushed in embarrassment, feeling intimidated just by those two words. Her accent was strong and proud. In unison, we all replied with, "Good morning, Ma'am."

She put down her leather brown bag that she was carrying by her side and said, "We have a new student here. Vernal, come here."

Nodding, I shakily stood up and hobbled over to the front of the classroom, the blackboard behind us. I introduced myself, the casual 'hey, it's me, this is my age, I'm from here, yadi yadi yada.' Two minutes later, I'd wobbled back to my seat and sat down, pulling out a notebook to write in. But a tap on my shoulder distracted me.

"Uh, I forgot my pen," Parker admitted shyly with a goofy grin. "Can I have one of yours, please?"

I rolled my eyes but shrugged. "Sure," I said bluntly and gave him my blue pen while I stayed with the black one.

We were taking notes and listening to the teacher (Mrs Borisova) before I felt someone glaring at me. Damn it, I mentally growled, can't this kid just leave me alone?

"Sorry, not to be rude," he whispered. "But I just wanted to know why you gave me the black one instead of the blue one? I saw you were gonna use it."

I just shrugged. "Dunno."

He nodded with a smile and went back to writing. I looked at the board and then the clock and saw it was time, 45 minutes had run by so slowly yet so quickly. The bell rang and I got up and picked my bag and pencil case and book and shoved it in, tugging the zipper shut and walked out and head to my next class, looking at the time slots of classes and reservations on the doors, thinking that it would have my class on them, finding it was music and arts that I was going to attend to next. "Hey!" I heard Parker pant as he must have chased after me.

"What is it?" I snapped.

He smiled and held out my blue pen. "I found my pen, it was stuck under my calculator. Here."

I took it, thanking him with a nod and leaned against the wall, waiting tediously for the teacher to come. He sat down and pulled out a book and started to doodle in it. I saw he was left handed and getting ink and pencil smears on his wrist. He seemed to be so focused and happy and drawing little things like landscapes and aesthetics. Had to admit, he did draw well. I pulled out my phone and checked the time, seeing that clocks were only located in classrooms. A teacher walked over and he seemed pretty old and tired, like he should've retired 20 years ago. He had a long beard, grey and black hairs like salt and pepper, in needing of a haircut, listing off names of musicians and artists on a page on his notebook. He pulled out a jumble of keys and unlocked the door and muttered for us to come in. I hobbled over to the back of the classroom in a similar place like last time and sat down, with once again having that clingy leech sitting next to me.