Faith • hs •

5 | William Clarke : Almost

Faith's POV:

I struggle to hold my lunch tray, as Zayn and I make our way through the cafeteria.

Everyone goes silent.

Zayn notices my struggle, gazing down at me. "Need help?"

"It's fine." I flash him a smile, looking ahead of me.

I frown, when I see almost the whole cafeteria raking me up and down, judging me with their eyes. Everyone is whispering and snickering when I pass their tables. What's wrong? Is there something on my face? Is it my face?

"Zayn?"

He hums, sitting down once we find an empty table somewhere.

"Why is everyone looking at me like that?" I ask, feeling extremely uncomfortable under everyone's stare that still lingers on me.

Zayn laughs, while peeling his orange. "Well," He starts. "You're the first person who hurt Harry Styles physically, ever."

What?!

"What the hell? How did everyone know that I—"

"Everything flies around here very fast, Faith. Gossip. Gossip everywhere. Be careful what you say, and how you act." Zayn warns me, his tone serious.

With a deep frown on my face, I nod vigorously.

"I don't get it though, there were only a few students who saw it happening."

Zayn shrugs, smiling dowm at his half-peeled orange. "You should feel proud. You're a hero, Faith. You hit Harry Styles."

I laugh halfheartedly, "Don't exaggerate, Zayn."

Pushing up his glasses, Zayn laughs loudly. "Seriously! No one dares to touch him." He widens his eyes, with a crazy grin. "Yet, you did."

I furrow my eyebrows, "Why are you talking about him like he's some kind of king?"

"He's a king here," Zayn mumbles, finally eating his orange. "Everyone treats him like that."

Frowning, my eyes scan the room for him. My eyes stop at the cheerleaders' table though, seeing them sitting on the table instead on the banks attached to it. Hilary, the one Zayn told me about, is nowhere in sight between the cheerleaders.

Slight anger boils up in me when I finally catch where Styles is sitting. His table is sat next to the exit doors. The table is full with three more boys ; the ones who were with him in the hallway, and two more girls ; Hilary being one of them. I conclude they're his friends, as he chats and laughs with them. He throws his head backwards, slapping his hand against his mouth, and laughing at something his blonde friend said.

Zayn and I's table isn't far away from theirs, nor near it.

I finally dodge my gaze to my tray before he can catches me staring.

My stomach ties up in knots, making a sound. I don't give it attention, as I realize I'm just hungry.

Just when I'm about to get a hold of my spoon, my stomach grumbles again. I furrow my eyebrows, looking down briefly, then back up. I hesitantly take a spoonful of mashed potatoes, stuffing it inside my mouth.