Chapter 2:
Soon afterwards, my dad picked me up after enduring several minutes of Ezra pleading and pestering to take me home.
I really hoped Ezra wouldn't turn out to be "that" kind of guy.
My dad even noticed that I looked pretty tired, so yet again he told me to read one of our favorite books, The Silmarillion. Well, to be exact, I really enjoyed that book. But while J.R.R. Tolkien is one of my favorite authors by far, I wasn't in the mood for a reading lecture.
I sighed heavily,my eyes slowly sinking away into a slow slumber. "Dad, I'm not in the mood for reading about the history of the Silmarils."
"What's the matter? Didn't you have an exotic time with April?" he inquired with a tilt of his head. "And I know this part in the book is your favorite."
As a matter of fact, it was. Ever since I was a little kid, I'd enjoyed listening about the Silmarils, jewels which glowed with the light of the Two Trees. I'd never really wanted to express my feelings for the whole series, which made me especially hide the fact about my evaporating past that swallowed me whole and left me in this vast, yet miniscule abyss, all alone.
"Yeah, I guess," I lied secretly.
"And who was that boy that wanted to take you home? He looked like a creeper," my dad exclaimed, frowning at the thought of it, making me smirk quietly.
"Just a boy I met earlier today," I said, a pinch-like stab piercing my upper thigh. I mumbled out an "ouch," in a low octave, and soon noticed there was something in my pants pocket. My dad responded quickly, hearing my slight pain I was in.
"Are you all right? The burns aren't acting up again, are they? Do you want me to pull out on the side of the road?" my father asked, concerned.
"I'm fine," I said slowly. "It's just my phone. It kind of poked me - sort of."
Secretly, I fished out a piece of paper with my right hand and held it near the reflection of four-wheeled car's door window so my dad wouldn't notice.
And sure enough, it was Sir Ezra Watson's phone number.
I smirked sarcastically, thankful that my dad didn't notice; and on the other hand, thankful that he read poems to me as I gently plopped my head on the cold windowsill.
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"Where on Earth were you?" I said, whispering across the aisle to April in U.S. History - it is literally the most boring class I have ever taken, and I still managed to slip by with an A- in it.
"What do you mean? We couldn't find you, so we just ditched after Logan's obnoxious requests for him to stay. "
"That's it?" I whispered, a bit more harshly.
"Well, then we went to a party. A lot of younger kids were there, so it totally blew."
"Ahh..." I murmured empathically, pretending to know the feeling despite never having even been to a party. "Freshmeat, huh?"
"Yep. What did you do while we were M.I.A?"
"Nothing, really," I said, trying to hide the fact of the ordeal with Ezra.
"Liar," April teased.
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April had to go to one of her tennis matches at lunch, and I really wasn't in the mood for chatting about my encounter with Ezra to everyone. So, like the loner I was, I decided to take a visit to our school's library. It was definitely not the best in terms of maintenance, but boy, did they have a variety of Shakespeare. Nice, crisp, yellowy-colored pages that smelled like old wood.
