From Heaven To Hell

Shivers

With no people crowding the hallways and voices pounding against my eardrums, the school is pretty calming. Besides the fact I'm in detention and Noah sits right next to me.

Mr. Heinz, the gym teacher that I only can remember from his thick neck and tendency to yell at any student that even looks at him funny, has his eyes glued to the computer, looking at God knows what while ignoring both of us. I thought there would be more people in detention. Call it a cliche I got from watching too many movies, but I thought there would be rough looking kids sitting in every seat, all with a I-don't-care-attitude. But, sadly, the only other people occupying the room is Mr. Heinz and Noah. Not that I would gladly welcome kids who could probably snap me in half, but I would probably not be as jumpy around them than the confusing guy currently reading next to me.

The reading part initially had me doing a double take but I quickly deduced that it oddly seemed right. With his hands huge in comparison to the slightly used book and his pine colored eyes engrossed in every line, it was a sight I never thought I'd see. A couple strands of his hair dangle and a sudden urge to brush them away has me biting my tongue.

He looks over at me and raises an eyebrow when he sees I'm staring. My eyes fly straight over to the front of the class, as though the whiteboard is suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. To try not to blush and make me look too embarrassing, I decide to mess with my hair instead. When I had hurriedly gotten to school I had haphazardly piled my hair into a loose bun, which probably looked terrible at the moment. I take out my hair tie and shake my hair out, letting it fall down my back. Like a shield, I cover the side of my face closest to Noah and peek in my peripheral vision at him.

His jaw clenches and his long eyelashes sweep his cheeks more forcefully. Does he not like the smell of my shampoo? I covertly sniff but all I smell is roses, my usual scent. Does he have a thing against roses?

Why am I wondering this about him? Why not wonder about the fact he knew exactly what was happening to me with my hearing or how he helped me when I sprained my ankle? And what about that? How had I sprained my ankle last night and it was perfectly fine today? And what about this Lucius business? What about the nightmare I had last night? It almost felt too real to be just a dream, especially the small bruises that had laced my skin this morning.

I pull back my sleeves and look at the unblemished skin. As in, no bruises.

Am I losing my mind?

Mr. Heinz chokes out a phlegmy cough, bringing my attention to the front of the room where he stands up, still clearing his throat.

"I need to go do something. I'm only leaving you for 20 minutes. When I get back, you should be quiet and in your seat. Understand me?" Now that I listen to his voice, still loud even though we're both 10 feet away from him, I detect a Boston accent that makes his voice even more obnoxious. Without making eye contact, I nod in response. Noah just does a small salute with his two fingers.

Taking our signals as confirmation, he hikes up his already-short shorts and walks out of the room, his tennis shoes making small squeaking noises as he exits.

Once he's gone, it's as though the tension in the room becomes palpable. Should I say something? Should I try to get his attention? I open my mouth but before I say anything, Noah talks first.

"How's your ankle?" I face him, almost snapping my neck by how fast I do it. He sets the book down, but still holds it in his hands, his thumb keeping his place. Forcing my eyes to his, I almost forget how to speak.

"It's fine. I think I must have just landed on it wrong, it's not hurting at all now." His eyebrows pull together and he looks down at my leg, adorned in denim and currently not all the way touching the ground.