Avoiding August (ONGOING)

Chapter 3

A/N: Unfortunately, I cannot add the cast list thing bc I can't find it, both on the app and on the mobile site, so I'm just going to announce the character's lookalikes whenever I find a suitable person.
Louis - Lucas Till (specifically when he has his hair down)

"This is Thandiwe and Gabriel."

The guy with a golden, summery tan looked serenely up at me, his face blank. "Meet us at the woods by midnight tonight. Come alone, and you shall partake in an initiation ritual."

I furrowed my eyebrows at the boys sitting in front of me. "Um, what?"

"Screw off, Gabe, you'll scare her away." Louis sat down, then tugged on my forearm gently, gesturing for me to sit down too.

Another boy sat across from us, with dark, sanguine skin. He introduced himself timidly with a tiny smile. "My name's Thandiwe."

The boy who talked before spoke louder, with poise, "And I'm Gabriel." He offered wave, and went back to the yoghurt he was eating.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Quinn."

Louis' friends were a welcoming bunch, and during lunch we all compared our schedules. They told me which kids to avoid, and which teachers I shouldn't look in the eye. We were absorbed in our very own world, right up until it was shattered by the bell.

We groaned, and waved each other goodbye. Thandiwe stayed with me, because we had science class together.
"Beware: I'm pretty sure Oatis is in our class, and he's a real nut-job. Don't sit next to him, because he gets high on anything he can get his hands on."

"... Pardon?"

We walked into the lab as everyone else began to slowly file in. He pointed as subtly as he could toward the back corner near the window, where a pallid-looking boy was sniffing glue.

I chanced a glance toward the teacher, who was flipping through a folder at the front of the classroom "The teacher isn't going to do anything?"

"He doesn't care. Just as long as he doesn't disrupt his class or die, he lets him go." Thandiwe sat down in a seat in the second row. Taking the seat next to him, I nodded.

"This school isn't what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Preppy, perfect rich people with music tutors making them practise 10 hours a day; not druggies and bullies."

The teacher begun talking, so Thandiwe's voice dropped to a breeze of a murmur. "Just because we go to a good school doesn't mean we're good people. It all makes it easier to find the weak, in a school of elites."

"What do you do?"

"What do I do? You mean, what did I get accepted here for?" I nodded, prompting him to continue. "Painting. I'm also half decent on the guitar." He paused, and pursed his lips, tilting his head and gazing my way. "What about you?"

"Violin and piano."

He inclined his head in a thoughtful manner. "Sounds classy. You'll have to play them for me now, you know that?" His smile was cheeky.

"Only if you play some guitar for me as well." His smiled grew broader, and the ebb of fondness washed over me. I felt like we'd be good friends.

I leaned my elbows on the counter, shifting them a bit when they sorely protested. My calves were complaining, too, as I dipped my head to the right to gaze at the clock. I had one more hour of work.

When my family moved here, after I settled in, I was quick to suggest I should get a job. This was mostly because I was running low on my money, since I quit my job two months before we left.

Then, I landed a job in a bookstore, much to my delight. It didn't seem to be much work; definitely not as laborious as serving food at a restaurant and cleaning up after people. Also, there was the comfort of being surrounded by books.

I had an insatiable affinity for fiction.

However, today, on a Wednesday evening, I was tired from school and I felt the weight of fatigue cloaked over me. Walking around the enormous school took it's toll on me, and after lunch, I saw Louis with wet hair and a black eye. I could guess  very easily what the cause was.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fingers into a ball at the thought of someone laying upon him so much harm. Then suddenly, my eyelashes felt like weights. Opening my eyes was a challenge.

When the bell above the door rung loudly, I quickly wiped at my eyes in an effort to erase any hint of sleepiness my face might hold. I turned to face the newcomer as a cool blast of wind brushed against my cheeks and through my hair.

He barely acknowledged me as he ambled inside, hands buried deep in his hoodie's pockets. Dark hair obscured his face from me as he inspected the bookshelf on the other side of the store.

I'd already got a good look at his face.

August Right was trailing his eyes idly along shelves full of book spines right in front of me. I couldn't help but pull a doubtful, suspicious look at his broad shoulders and the back of his head.

I quickly turned it into what I hoped was a look of disinterest when he suddenly turned to me. His dark eyes locked into me, and he stalked forward. His face may as well have been covered with a mask; he wore no expression.

I drew back a bit, not sure if I should expect him to demand money from the till or scowl at me or say that he knew my friend talked shit about him.

He did none of those.

Instead, he tilted his head and spoke. "Do you have a copy of  'A Tale of Two Cities' here?" In normal circumstances, it would have been a question, but the way he said it made him sound like a prince demanding his wishes to be fulfilled.

Before I let myself even try to think about what he could possibly want with a piece of legendary literature, I nodded. My eyes had picked out the cursive writing on a blue-grey spine last week when I was absentmindedly scanning the shelves.

My steps were riddled with haste as I slipped out from behind the counter to where I knew the classic literature section was and directed my eyes to the top shelf. It was then that I realised that I might not be able to reach the blue paperback. Stretching my right arm and balancing on my toes, I reached. My fingers were inches too far away, and my elbow disapproved, so I stopped trying.

I turned to a glaring August. I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong. I decided he was just a mean person who didn't know how to smile without seeming evil or malicious.

I awkwardly pointed the book out. It was hard to miss. The spine was eye-catching. "It's right there on the top shelf."

As I looked down at my shoes, I was sure I heard him scoff or make some  kind of noise that had me snapping my head his way as fast as I could. I reeled, asking myself 'Does he think I'm stupid or something? What's with that noise?'

He plucked the book from the shelf. The action contrasted so much to my episode of The Pitiful Lifestyle of A Ridiculously Short Person. I huffed quietly.

Smothering my slight humiliation with thoughts that had my biting the inside of my cheek, I told him the price of the book, let him purchase it, and watched the tall boy leave.

He gripped the volume with tender hands when I handed it to him over the counter.

I thought to myself as I sat on the bus on the way home, 'I really don't like him.'