What would you do if you discover that you have been talking through cards with your greatest enemy? Add the fact that you became fond of him in a certain way.
Well, that's what happened to our dear John. Come in to see what happens.
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The murmurs that were heard throughout the classroom, some students were playing with airplanes or paper balls. The blue-eyed boy had just arrived at the classroom, he looked somewhat tired and it was noticeable by his eyes, since under these there were small dark circles, he went to his seat and left his backpack aside.
He kept awake reading the books that John had recommended to him, his curiosity could not resist reading them and now his eyes felt somewhat irritated and tired. Was it worth it?, maybe.
—You look like a zombie,— a voice spoke behind him.
He turned in his seat, to find Cecile leaning on her hand.
—Oh really? I didn't notice,— he said sarcastically.
—What are you thinking about?— she asked raising one of her eyebrows. —I mean, it's weird that you stay up late.
—... And since when have you been interested in what I do?
—Do not evade my question with another, I have no intentions.
—Nothing, it's not important.
The blond turned towards his chair, trying to leave the conversation there.
—Do you like someone?
Arlo was surprised by what he heard, he turned back to Cecile.
—How do you know?
—Did I hit the target?
The blond rolled his eyes, shaking his head. —No.
—You know, you're not good at hiding what happened to you,— the green-haired girl laughed.
He was about to answer him however, at that moment the literature teacher entered the room, drawing the attention of everyone present.
—Sit down guys,— she said and placed her briefcase on the desk. —I already have the results of your work from last week, I'll give them from the lowest to the highest. Holden
—No, teacher!— the blue-haired boy whimpered.
—Sit down, please.—
At this a few students laughed, then the teacher dedicated herself to calling all the students, one by one while she told them some comment about the work. She had handed over all of them, except the blonde's one, which seemed strange to her.
—Professor,— he called. — You didn't give me my homework,
— Oh yeah, I'll give it to you at the end of class. I would like to talk to you.
Then the woman turned to the blackboard to start the class.
Meanwhile, the blonde remained thoughtful, he wondered what the teacher had to tell him. What did she have to tell him? Did he do something wrong? But what? Was he in trouble? No, he didn't remember any situation that would put him in a dilemma with the teachers. He couldn't stop those kinds of thoughts from overwhelming his head, he couldn't even listen to the teacher's words, much less he paid attention to what was written on the blackboard.
