Fangirl

Chapter 4 Martha

The rain drummed deafeningly on the gravel of the path as I approached the entrance of the academy in the blue gloom. I stepped up onto the wide lit porch and stopped. Clods of mud from boots adorned the gray slabs.

I smiled — now everything was the way it should be.

Returning to the academy after the talk, I froze at this very spot in confusion. Phillip was supposed to have come down before me, which meant the threshold couldn't be clean. But it was. It couldn't have been washed so fast. The help would take up the task the next morning at the earliest and only after the rain stopped.

I quickly realized that he must have taken shelter under the treetop on the way, having been caught in the downpour, and decided to wait out the first blows of the weather. Most likely, he'd stayed on the side of the road somewhere. There was no point in going deep into the forest, there were wild beasts as well.

That thought was enough to make me hurry to the door. I grabbed one of the umbrellas in the hall, and rushed back.

I found him quickly. Paused, deciding how to offer an umbrella. He wasn't likely to be very happy to see me, but I couldn't leave him alone in the dark, where there were bears and wolves, and in the cold he couldn't stand.

It seemed that instead of helping, I only frightened him more. He didn't take the umbrella, just ran away. But now he was safe and warm in the thick walls of the castle, and I was glad.

I leaned over and touched fresh dirt, rubbed it in my fingers with a sense of satisfaction, and then walked through the door.

***

For the next couple of weeks, I'd been especially circumspect and could bet he never caught my gaze even once. I only let myself stare when Phillip's back was turned to me, or when the distance was so great and there was no way to see me.

I didn't look at him in the lunchroom or in the classrooms. It was hard, but I held on, thinking that it would make it easier for him. It is a doubtful pleasure to be the object of someone's obsession. Especially if you didn't like that person, or worse, thought they were weird.

So I did my irrenowned deed for Phillip with all the dedication I could. Let him feel that I was no threat. I was the last person in the world who could harm him.

Looking past a perfect face, I just pictured him wherever my gaze stopped, admiring the memorable moments I had in my head.

How serious and inspired he looked, reading a report about the swamp kikimora that lived in the northern latitudes. How sad and pensive he seemed sitting on the bench during magical competitions. How peaceful and calm he was staring into the distance, while stretched out on the lawn in front of the academy.

I suppressed a sigh. Nothing would tell him that I had violated his boundaries, : not a glance, not a breath. Phillip could be perfectly sure.

***

After a month, I had mastered the art of discreet observation. I put in a lot of effort until covert attention had become a second skin. Such a life seemed as natural as the previous one and was almost comfortable.

It turned out there were advantages to this behavior. Deprived of the pleasure of looking at him, I was elated when I did happen to touch him with a gaze.

Thanks to the randomness of movement around me, which was bound to happen in the midst of a huge crowd of students, Phillip would sometimes suddenly appear at my side, and to turn away would be to attract his attention by the commotion erupted. The best thing to do was to blaze past following a given trajectory of movement as if I were not even there.