Toil and Trouble

Chapter Four - Niall

"What was she staring at? I didn't even do anything wrong. Right Liam?" I look at Liam as I stop fiddling with the Rubix Cube in my hands, raising a brow, wincing at the slight pain from the simple action. I pressed my fingers to the small cut above my right brow, pursing my lips. Christ that goddamned douchebag did a real number on me; didn't he. Maybe that's why Teresa had stared at me like that. I looked like shit – thought it wasn't as bad as any other fight I've ever gotten into before.

"You got into a fight Niall. You mouthed off when you didn't have to. We easily could have packed up and left so that he could practice. No, you just had to be right. Now shut up. I have math homework to finish and I have to think this through." Liam snapped at me, his eyes staring at me with no real malice or anger, just annoyance. He wasn't right though.

I had a good reason to mouth off, I always do, and Liam just never understands them. That's the worst part. He just assumed I was a loose cannon, always ready to fight, never thinking it through. I was a fighter, I feel it in my blood every morning, but Liam. Liam adapts to his new surroundings. He blends in. He's similar to a chameleon. The both of us are so different and yet we became good friends because of the need we both had. We both needed something from the other. Liam needed a protector and I needed someone to help me learn to adapt to every new chance that was happening in my life.

"Fine. Sorry for bothering you." I place the Rubix cube down and turn off my lamp, rolling over onto my side in the bed, closing my eyes. I laid there, thinking of Teresa and how she had looked at Irya when she came to help Liam, she looked almost – murderous? Like he had broken through her mask of disinterest. I couldn't help but feel that I wanted to do the same thing. I wanted to make her mad or at least find a way to get through to her. Make her laugh, make her furious... make her cry. I just wanted to see her feel.

Why didn't she feel? Or at least act like she didn't. Luna said it was because she was scared... but scared of what? I had heard rumours around the school about her mother and grandmother being psychics and then other rumours where her dad was the Devil's incarnate. But not one rumour about her herself. I couldn't help but wonder if she ate people who spread rumours about her. She seemed like the kind of person to do that. Then again; she hadn't seemed spiteful in the nurse's office. Though she had been speaking about someone else's problem.

Maybe that was why there were no rumours about her. Because there was nothing to tell. Maybe because she never had her own problems. She was too busy with everyone else's. She had seemed quiet in classes until a teacher called on her in which case she sounded smart. Except in math, or at least, that's what Liam said. He said she sounded unsure and awkward in Math. Like she didn't know what she was doing. Which is highly probable.

Why was I trying to figure this girl out? She obviously didn't care what others thought of her. So why do I care about what I should think of her?

Maybe because people have judged you your entire life?

A small voice in the back of my head rang through the rest of the thoughts because of its calm rationality. I couldn't help but think of how right it was. I was trying not to judge Teresa because of how I was treated throughout my entire life. She deserved not to be judged until I knew all the facts... Right?

---------------------------------------------------

Three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee left me feeling like a zombie as I trudged through the school hallways. I had spent most of the night thinking over how Teresa had acted last night... and when I finally fell asleep I had the same weird dream as the first night I had met the girl. The dream was cryptic and terrifying; which confused me. I glanced up when I ran into something- scratch that- someone. I sighed loudly when I saw Luna. I smiled slightly at her before I moved to walk past her, groaning internally at the feeling of her hand on my arm, telling me to stay put.