Wink Murder (Phan)

Chapter 4

Ahh sorry that it's been ages

You can kill me if you want xD

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"Okay, what is the electronic configuration of a chromium atom?" No one had their hand up. The chemistry teacher examined the room with a look of disappointment after asking the question.

Phil's hand went up hesitantly. The teacher grinned and motioned with his hand to encourage Phil to speak.

"Is it 2.8.8.6? Because the atomic number of chromium is 24?" he said nervously while brushing his fingers through his inky-black hair.

"Correct, Philip. Well done." The teacher then spoke louder, addressing the whole room, "I think everyone else should try a bit harder. Your A levels are approaching and you need to be revising regularly."

I was seated near the back with my head resting on my arm. I had had a late night and I was suffering the consequences. I didn't have the motivation or energy to work today.

Every other student was exhausted; it was half way through the academic year and we were all at the point where we had given up on life. Except for Phil. He was still as enthusiastic as he was in September. All the teachers loved him. Well, not the gym teacher. Phil wasn't the sporty type.

The bell signalled the end of the lesson and we all packed up our books. The teacher dismissed us and I waited for Phil by the door.

He smiled cutely. "Hi."

"Where are you off to?" I asked, as I wanted to go with him wherever he went.

"I was just going to get a coffee from the canteen."

"Same! I'm exhausted and need some caffeine to wake me up . . . so, mind if I join you?"

"Of course not." Just then a group of Year 7's sprinted past and almost knocked me over. I was about to swear loudly after them but then I remembered Phil was with me.

"As I was saying . . . I'm going to the library after I get a coffee. My friends and I need to finish the geography homework." He sighed contentedly, "Year 7's are a pain in the neck but we used to be that age."

"And piss off all the 6th Formers."

He laughed. Phil had a beautiful laugh.

"Have you done the geography homework?"

I looked down. "Guess," I said sarcastically.

"Okay. You haven't."

"You know me so well." We were almost at the canteen now. I wanted to spend more time talking to Phil and slowed my pace. He did the same.

"You can come to the library with me and I can help you," Phil offered.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him, sassy hand on hip and an 'oh no you didn't' expression.

"Oi! Mr. I'm-good-at-everything. Don't just assume I'm crap at Geography. Just because you're so fantabulous."

"Sorry." He blushed. "That was rude of me."

I giggled like a 14 year old with her crush. "You're so polite! I was just joking! Of course I'm crap at geography! Please help me I'm going to fail."

He grinned. "Okay! If you need me that bad."

And we headed to the canteen together.

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I downed my coffee - burning my tongue and throat in the process - and rushed through the library doors with Phil by my side. We had been talking for what seemed like 5 minutes but in reality was 40.

"Where have you been?" One of Phil's friends asked when he collapsed into the cushiony chair (which were only in the library) that they had saved specifically for him. "There's only 15 minutes of lunch left."

Phil rummaged in his galaxy-print bag for his book and pulled it out. He then instinctively tidied his messy fringe. His face was flustered from the run. "I was with Dan."

The whole group turned to stare at me disapprovingly, and I awkwardly said, "Hey."

There was an unoccupied chair at the next table so I pulled it up next to Phil's and began to ask him about the homework.

"What page is it?" I questioned, flicking through the pages of the thick text book.

"219," a blond boy whose name I thought was Caspar, answered.

I muttered a thank you before scanning through the questions. Twice. Then a third time. I didn't understand any. My eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and concentration as I searched my brain for any memories of a lesson in which the answers were explained.

"Shit."

Phil was already on question 3. "What's wrong? Which one do you need help with?"

"Um . . . all of them," I whispered remorsefully, flinching as I imagined him saying a mean comment. But Phil would never say something harsh, I reassured myself.

He smiled kindly, but a couple of his friends had heard me and laughed. They thought my lack of geography knowledge was funny. I wanted to punch them - everyone has a subject they're bad at, everyone has weaknesses. Phil glared at them, they saw his face, immediately stopped laughing and continued to write. They had a look of innocence, like a dog that had previously ripped up a pillow and scattered the feathers all over the floor.

"Okay," Phil said brightly. "Let's start with the first question."

It suddenly hit me: Chris.

I had forgotten all about him.

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