Hurricane ► Jasper Hale [1]

[21]

"ATTICUS FINCH," MRS. Davis, Allison's English teacher, began. The class was assigned to read To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee in Allison's College Prep class. Despite the supernatural problems that seemed infinite, Allison still had hopes to attend college. "Would any of you like to attempt at giving me an educated opinion on the man?"

The class was silent, no one daring to raise their hand in fear that Mrs. Davis would lash out if she deemed them illiterate. Mrs. Davis was a small woman, barely reaching Allison's chin in height, but she had an oddly intimidating air about her.

Timidly, Allison raised her hand from the back of the classroom. "Mrs. Christopher," The teacher announced, pointing a slim finger toward the girl in the back. Allison grimaced as she saw several of her classmates turn to stare at her.

"Atticus Finch is a tolerant man, one who seems to embody the greatest virtues. He's patient, kind, and understanding. He doesn't meddle with his children's private life, and he addresses them as fellow adults. He even allows Scout and Jem to call him Atticus. Atticus Finch is the epitome of a man who deserves respect. In a way, you would find that many children of today's society would wish to have a father such as Atticus."

It was silent for a moment, and the clicking of the clock on the wall was very loud in Allison's ears as she waited. The brunette had never really been the hand-raising type. She typically stayed quiet, merely observing and jotting down notes occasionally.

"Not bad," Mrs. Davis spoke, leveling Allison with a calculating gaze as the girl averted her eyes in discomfort. "Not bad at all, Mrs. Christopher."

The woman turned on her heel, and Allison released a large breath of relief. Her heart was beating unusually fast; the side effect of speaking up in class, she supposed.

Allison turned her head to the window, catching sight of the strawberry blonde sitting down the row from her. The brunette sighed, a pang of guilt shooting through her as she saw the girl. Allison had stopped speaking to Lydia White soon after they met. This wasn't done purposely, of course. The girl had been so tangled up with the supernatural that she hadn't had any time to spare for her former friend.

Lydia turned her head to Allison briefly, before looking away quickly as if she hadn't expected to be caught.

The bell rang suddenly, startling Allison. She rose quickly from her seat, gathering her things messily. The girl followed the herd of people out the door, and caught sight of the strawberry head again. Allison sighed determinedly and chased after the girl once they were in the hallway.

"Lydia!"

The girl turned at the sound of her name, and Allison watched as her green eyes widened comically upon seeing her. Those green eyes soon narrowed, however.

"Hi." Allison breathed out. She was nervous now, as she faced Lydia's glare. "Um, how are you?"

"I'm grand, darling. Not that you would know." The words sounded venomous leaving Lydia's mouth. Allison cringed at the obvious dislike directed toward her.

"That's good," Allison murmured quietly, kicking the ground gently with the tip on her shoe. "And Dylan?"

"He's fine."

It was silent between the two, and when Allison finally looked up, Lydia was staring daggers at the top of her head. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Lydia raised her eyebrows expectantly, and Allison continued. "I'm sorry that we stopped talking, and I'm sorry that I'm the reason for it. I won't ask you to understand, because I can assure that you won't, but I just wanted to say it. You don't have to say anything. Just— I'm sorry, Lydia."