Stone Cold ❖ Salvatore [1]

EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT
WRITTEN TRAGEDY

"Have you even talked to Bonnie?" I asked Caroline, as we walked passed a parked school bus. Books were clutched to my chest as I looked over to her.

"No, I'm mad at her. She needs to make the first move." Caroline replied.

"Be the bigger person." I said suggestively.

She scoffed. "Ugh, impossible in her presence." Caroline said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why are you so pissed at her anyway?"

"She's a thief, that's why!" Caroline exclaimed, flailing her arms around her. I shot her a look to explain. "I gave her my necklace and she refuses to give it back. It's a matter of principle."

"All right, I tried. I'm officially out of it," I said, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.

"Good," Caroline replied, grinning triumphantly. "Your turn. Where's Stefan and Elena? Have you talked to them?"

"They're avoiding me." I stated nonchalantly, not really wanting to delve into that specific subject.

"Why?" she pushed, and I groaned quietly. Of course she couldn't let it go.

"It's complicated, I guess - hard to explain." I muttered.

Caroline opened her mouth to ask another question when the bell abruptly rang. "I'll see you later," I told my blonde friend.

She awkwardly waved. "Bye."

I trudged into history, and immediately noticed that Stefan's seat was unoccupied. I lowered myself into my desk and set my textbooks atop of the wooden desk. I let out a long shaky breath through my nose, trying my hardest to forget about last night, but I just couldn't. I slumped back in my seat, rolling my eyes at my ineffective efforts.

Stefan not being in class caused my mind to wonder. I mean, so many possibilities popped in my head at once. Did he kill Damon? Did Damon kill him? Had they skipped town and left Elena and I without an explanation?

My thoughts were interrupted when a tall and attractive man entered the classroom. His light brown hair was neatly combed back and his pale blue eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He also had a pale complexion that was complemented with slight stubble on his chin, jaw and cheeks.

I tilted my head at the man, was he our new history teacher?

"Alrighty," the man said, removing his jacket and making his way to the blackboard. He grabbed a piece of white chalk and began writing.

My undivided attention on the man was disrupted when I noticed Elena was looking over at a distraught looking Bonnie. Elena was mouthing to Bonnie: "Are you okay?" and Bonnie just shook her head in response.

"Alaric Saltzman." The man said, pointing to the board, where his name was written. "It's a mouthful, I know. It doesn't exactly roll of the tongue. But, Saltzman is of German origins. My family immigrated here in 1755 to Texas." Alaric said, taking a pause, "I however was born and raised in Boston. The name Alaric belongs to very old, dead great grandfather, that I will never be able to thank enough. You're going to want to pronounce it AL-A-RIC but it's A-LAR-IC. Okay, so you can all call me Ric. I'm your new history teacher."