The Overlooked

Chapter 7: Catch Me

The library was unusually cold, but Frin hardly noticed. One long table ran down the middle, at which she sat near the end, where the light from the large, circular window could wash over her and trick her mind into being warm.

Books surrounded her, in piles that crept onto the table and bench beside her. Her version of paradise really, a mission and the means to accomplish it. The mission being to discover something, anything, about Lowri's doppelganger painting and the means being the school's entire collection of art history books. Her eyes scanned over an open page, searching meticulously for any hint at the nameless painting. Like so many pages before, she found nothing.

The morning's revelation still swam in her head, but finding out who had spied on them was a more problematic venture. In better words, it wasn't something she could find in a book. Right then, she needed something physical to claw onto, something she didn't have to strain to process. Something less... human. It was a futile pursuit, to hope to catch a glimpse of Lowri's blue eyes amongst thousands of other, more well-known portraits. Nevertheless, she took another book from the pile and flipped it open, swinging her legs to be rid of the fuzzy, unmoving feeling.

"Ouch!"

Her foot collided with something beneath the table, something that elicited a pained grunt.

Surprised, she froze for a moment. Had she simply imagined it? Perhaps she'd spent to one too many hours in the library's solitude.

No, she had certainly felt something. Warily (because she somehow felt the situation necessitated caution), she lowered her head to find out what it was.

Or rather WHO it was. Thre, contorted after being struck by a fairly pointed shoe, was a boy. One that she recognized from that day in the courtyard; Kolt Dawson.

He smiled up at her sheepishly, a sort of lopsided grin. Strewn out on his back, his hand was placed at his hip, where she had evidently kicked him.

"What on earth are you doing down there?"

Kolt raised his eyebrows innocently and brought the book (that he had dropped upon collision) to his chest. "Enjoying the view."

Frin lifted her foot and kicked him again, this time intentionally.

"Alright, alright," he choked, his smile only growing. It was the kind of smile that cloaks the wolf in sheep's fur. "Do you make a habit of kicking everyone you meet?"

"Only the brutishly overconfident ones."

Kolt's hand flew to his heart in faux-agony. "You've pinned me as overconfident already?"

Frin watched this display with poignant humourlessness. "You don't make a very good first impression."

"Neither do you," Kolt chuckled, rubbing at his hip.

In fact, the impression he made was abysmal. His shoelaces were untied and laxly tucked into his shoes, his buttons were unaligned and his hair shot out in stubborn little tufts at the base of his neck. Not to mention his current position beneath the table.

It was while Frin observed him that a thought came to her. Perhaps it was his casual secrecy, or perhaps the topic merely resided so freshly in her mind that any opportunities became possibilities. "Are you spying on me?"

Kolt looked as if he might choke on air. "Heavens no," he rasped, his head angling further beneath the table so that it blinked into darkness for a moment. "I don't know a thing about you, besides that you give a right harsh boot."

"Oh, would you get over yourself? I hardly grazed you."

"I think I might have lost a kidney."

"Good thing you have one to spare, then."