Who I am

Chapter 3

Fiona's POV 

The way he looks at me, makes me feel like an idiot. It's like he doesn't expect me to know the answers to his questions so there's no reason to answer them. He looks away dismissively but I can guarantee he's still watching me out of the corner of his eye. I move my hands to smooth out my desk in a way I've done many times before. It’s breezy out here and I regret my idea. Thinking about his earlier question I decide to take a look at the rough etchings on the wooden table. I examine it closely, the large hoops on the F of my name, the large circled dots on the I's in the sentence and I know exactly who it belongs too.   

"Tanya McCarthy." I announce more sharply than intended, I could of sworn I saw him flinch hearing the tone of my voice.  

Confusion overwhelms and contorts his face "What about her?" he asks. 

A sudden rush of anger comes over me, my voice turning to a low growl "She's the one who did it. You asked Connor." How can he call me an idiot when he's the one asking questions, getting the answers, then not knowing what's going on? Ugh, whatever.  

"Lucky guess." he says but I see a look cross his face that shows he has to question himself a little. 

"If you think so." I remark. I have no time for this, I just want this week to be over and to do that, I have to finish the assignment. I move my gaze to the paper that I collected that is still firmly in one hand. The paper doesn't have a lot of clues about how I'm supposed to get this done, other than the fact it appears I have to do a lot of things I'd rather not before I can even say I'm close to finishing. "Any ideas on how we're going to do this?" I say to Connor who turns around, shrugging his shoulders without a thought.  

I grit my teeth, an idea popping into my head and I see that he too knows that we're going to have to do something soon else we're doomed. "You can come over to my house tonight." he says coldly, avoiding my gaze. His body tenses on the bench, almost as if realizing how hard this is actually going to be. My nails dig into my skin as I ask myself why it had to be him one last time before nodding my agreement. "My Mom will be in, so you can meet her but my Dad won't be there."  

Something about his voice warns me not to ask question but something about the look on his face almost torments me, begging me to ask but it soon passes and I manage a nod. I don't really want to meet a boys parents at all, especially like this, for this reason. It's just plain strange. What would my parents say? What will they say? Do I even want to know? Panic sets in, rising in my stomach and I think he catches my look because he smirks a bit. Calming down, I smile politely upwards at him. "Would you mind taking a seat?" I muster in a hardly manageable sweet tone.  

"Sure Fifi." He moves, slipping onto the bench opposite me. His fingers drum against the wood making a familiar tune but I keep my thought inside my head. When will this be over. 

"So, what interests you?" I ask, trying to sound interested. 

"Wearing loads of make up to make me look beautiful." he says, pouting his lips and swinging his legs up to cross them. He touches his face, pretending he's holding a mirror in front of his face. I guess he's mimicking me but I say nothing. 

"That's nice, but it's not working." I say sweetly, writing it down in my notebook. 

"Oh now, you shouldn't say hurtful things." he pouts, trying to look upset and I shake my head. 

Standing up I look at him, anger rising again, this is becoming a familiar pattern. "You know what Connor, I want to pass. I don't care if you don't. Just be serious."