Silence

Chapter 3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The teacher introduced a new kid in the last two weeks, much to my surprise. It was the blonde guy that I'd seen earlier. This time, he introduced himself to the class:

"Hullo, my name is Shane O'Malley. I've just moved here from Britain, but I was born here in Ireland. I'm 16 and will be graduating in the next two weeks with you all. Thank you." He then bowed and smiled. God, the man had dimples. Why did so many British guys have dimples? I about fell out of my chair.

Instead, I pulled out my books and listened to the teacher's teachings. Shane went and took a seat in the back. We were working on derivatives. Since we only had four schools in Boyle, most of us had gone to school together since kindergarten.

Our classroom was a little cement room with two windows on each side, two looking into the hallway and the others looking outside. I kept glancing around. It was hard to focus, knowing that Shane could see me. That he was watching.

After class, I was sitting at my desk, doodling in my notebook with Riagán. His dark brown hair was getting in the way of my drawing.

"Why are you leaning over my desk?" I asked him

"Just cuz," he said, shaking his hair all over my desk.

"What are you, ossified5?" I said, laughing.

"Nah, but I will be tonight. Gotta get over Fionola somehow." He laughed. Then, Shane stepped up to my desk.

"Hi."

He just about put the heart crossway6 in me. I jumped and looked at him. I could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. I cleared my throat, I hadn't even noticed that Riagán had left.

"H-hi. You said your name was Shane? Nice to meet you," I said, sticking my hand out. I didn't know what Brits did to greet each other. Was it different?

He took my hand, his was very warm. "Yes, what's yours?" His accent was to die for. I wouldn't let him see how flustered I was.

"Ah, my name's Conan. Conan Finnin."

"Nice to meet you, mate," He shook my hand. I didn't want to let go. I hadn't felt this kind of warmth from anyone since Dad died. "Mate," oh. God. That's... Something.

"Do you want to be friends?" I blurted out. He smiled at me.

"Aren't we already?"

"Do you remember me?" I asked. He probably didn't. It was dark, there's no way.

"Yes. You were the one who I saw last night, correct?" My heart was beating so loud I could barely hear him. I didn't know what to say. He was still holding my hand.

"Ah, that's– that's good..."

"Mmm," he said, nodding. I tried to slowly take my hand out of his, but he held on tighter. I was confused.

"I'm sorry, but, um, could y– you let go of my hand, possibly?"

"Oh, oops. Sorry, hah," he said, letting go and scratching the back of his head. "Do you want to go out for, uh," He looked down at something written on his hand, "Uh, chips7. Want to get some chips together? Is that similar to crisps?"

Crisps? What are those?

"Sure, let's get chips together," I said, standing up, and starting to pack up my things. His face lit up.