The Boy Who Never Smiled

Chapter 7

Chapter 7
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My thoughts all crumbled as I stared, probably gawking, at the boy standing in front of me, his pale pink lips drawn into a tight line of obvious irritation.

"U-um... hi?" I offered, still annoyed at him for bumping into me without apologizing and insulting Harry Potter and Percy Jackson. Seriously, who does that?

"This is my seat," the boy said icily, completely ignoring my previous attempt at friendly small talk.

Well, then.

"Uh, last time I checked, this seat doesn't have your name on it," I shot back.

"So? Just get off. I don't want your filthy germs all over it," the boy nearly spat at me.

How ironic... mudblood, 'filthy'. Who was this boy, Draco Malfoy?

I glared at him and pursed my lips. "No, thanks. I'm not moving. I was here first. Maybe if you said please, or were actually nice to someone you don't even know I would have moved," I told him coolly, yet made it obvious I wasn't moving as I closed my notebook and stuffed my pencil back into my purse, collecting my things closer and glaring at him.

"That's the point," the boy drawled, raising his jet black eyebrows at me. "I don't know you. So why should I care if I hurt your feelings or not? They don't matter, anyway."

I clenched my jaw, my heart aching at his harsh words, but I ignored him. My anger replaced my hurt.

"You should be thrown into the pits of Tartarus!" I spat at him, my face curling into an unusual manner, something I usually never did; a sneer.

The boy snorted. "Tartarus? What is 'Tartarus'?"

I looked at him, probably with a bizarre expression, and said slowly, "Tartarus? You know... wait, nevermind, you don't read Percy Jackson."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Obviously not. That book is horrible, anyway."

"Then... what are those?" I asked him smugly, pointing at the two books the boy was trying to hide behind him.

They were the other two Percy Jackson books, the ones missing from the shelf!

The boy's eyes widened slightly, but instead of flushing red, he remained vacant of any expression. "This is for my cousin," he said in a bland voice. "Sure..." I said tauntingly, smirking in triumph.

"Whatever. Just go away," the boy hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Or what?" I pressed him, egging him on. What made this boy so irritated with everything and everyone? Couldn't he just sit beside me? Would he give in eventually?

The boy's nostrils flared and he glared at me, almost driving a hole through my soul. It was... intimidating.

But I wasn't phased.

"What? Is that supposed to make me get afraid and leave?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows. The boy stiffened. "No," he snapped, "but this is."

He snatched my notebook from my lap, quick as a flash of lightning, and held it in his large, deathly pale hands, a smirk twitching on his lips.

I remained still, my heart now hammering against my chest.

Oh, great Athena.. what am I going to do? He has my life, my essence; my notebook!

I slowly looked up at him. "Give. It. Back," I said through gritted teeth, letting each word draw out loudly so he got the message: give it back or die.

The boy twirled my notebook, my notebook, in his hands.

"Hmm... shall we take a look through this?" he wondered, and flipped open the first page, a picture taken of me, Suzan, and Tyler all laughing together outside my house taped to it. I had taken it from one of my picture frames and placed it in my notebook so I was always around Suzan and Tyler... though they didn't know it.

"Huh. It'd be a shame if any of these got ripped," the boy said slowly, turning each page with long, slender fingers.

"Fine!" I snapped, getting up.

I grabbed my two books and glared at him. "Give me my notebook back. That is not your property. This is considered stealing!" I reminded him in a firm voice.

"So?" the boy asked, but tossed me my notebook, which I clumsily caught and stuffed into my purse with an indignant huff.

I zipped it up and clutched the two books to my chest, watching the boy sit down at the space opposite of mine.

"Couldn't we have just shared?" I asked him, frowning. "No," the boy replied in a flat voice, already turning to the first page of Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth.

"You know, we could be friends," I suggested, shocked at even my own actions.

Friends? With this boy? He seemed like he hated me!

The boy looked up so sharply I thought his neck might snap.

"What did you say?" he asked slowly, as if wondering if he heard me correctly.

"I said, we could have been friends. I haven't even been that mean to you. What's your problem?" I demanded, folding my arms across my chest, still holding the books.

"People. People are my problem. And I don't make friends," the boy said in a tense voice before he resumed to reading.

I sighed, glancing away. "If people are your problem, does this mean you have a problem with yourself? Your a person too, you know," I reminded him. "Maybe I do," the boy muttered, his eyes never leaving the book.

Maybe I do.

The words kept repeating over and over in my mind before I finally said, "You always make friends. Whether you want to or not."

Then I turned around on my heel and walked away.

You always make friends, whether you want to or not.

And it was then when I discovered I wanted to figure this boy out; why was he so hostile, why did he resent everyone? What was his name? His past?

But by doing this, I needed to become his friend.

And I had no problem with doing just so.

(A/N: Victory! Finally, Ariana has decided she wants to be Rixton's friend! :D Yay!

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