Hunted

Act 27; Report

Noah's room was surprisingly neat and tidy. Since Amelia was steeling herself not to flinch at an expected pile of disorganization-he had mentioned before that his room looked like a typhoon wreckage-she was mildly amused to see how everything seemed to be where it should be.

He had a library shelf Amelia first thought to uncharacteristically contain books, then realized it contained gaming discs arranged in genre on each shelf, then in alphabetical order. The desk had three screens of computers, one mouse, and one keyboard. She was mildly curious as to how he controlled it, but never asked. Then there was the bed that left the biggest impression.

Nothing sexual though-which surprised her somewhat-but curious. It was surely a game, but seemed too serious to be. Something entitled Defense against the Ancients, where monsters and humans intermingled around the name, all looking livid and ready to thrash each other.

Moving on, she skimmed the walls, where gaming posters were plastered all over, mostly Pokémon. She wanted to look into the closet but held herself back. Instead, she took out his swivel chair and gingerly sat, her eyes darting around the room as she waited for him to start whatever it was he wanted to show her.

A girl and a boy alone in a room together. Strange. She didn't feel the tingly sensations she often read in romance novels. She found it alarming, given the fact that she was sure she liked Noah as more than a friend. Could there be something wrong with her?

She didn't worry too long, because Noah started to speak and her mind gave its full attention to him.

"Ballet," He started, crossing the room and heading for his computer. Amelia swiveled away to give him space. "...is a form of theatrical dance that began in Italy but was popularized in France and evolved throughout Western Europe during the Renaissance around the 14th century, thus, when one thinks of Ballet, one is immediately reminded of France, but in reality, the origin of ballet stems back to Italy, the country I was assigned to report."

Amelia knew about the history of ballet. Yet she kept quiet, not wanting to steal his thunder.

He opened a video on his desktop and a short film of ballet evolving from Italy to the rest of the world played. Once it was over, Noah looked back at her expectantly.

"So?"

Amelia blinked. "Hm?"

"What do you think? About my report."

That was it?

"Well, I know the intro's short, but I'm working on it! I'm pretty sure I can come up with other stuff before I run out of time." He shrugged, before plopping himself on his bed and giving her that expectant look again. "So what do you think?"

She picked her words carefully. "You definitely started with enough enthusiasm to keep me interested."

Noah's face lit up like a Christmas light, because as soon as it flashed brightly, it blinked out. "You think I should work on it, don't you?"

Amelia took a second to decide on nodding truthfully and a second longer to actually do it. "When was this report assigned to you again?"

Noah looked away, trying to hide his sheepishness and failing. "A week ago?"

Amelia said nothing, hoping her cold glare would speak for her.

Noah bowed his head guiltily, scratching his nape. "Yeah. Worst case of procrastination I've ever seen too."

"Do you need to set anything up for your report?" She asked wanting him to look at her. "Like a visual aide or something?"

Noah's head popped back up. "Yeah, about that." He wrung his hands together, his face suddenly looking hopeful. "I was wondering if you could help me out with that."

"Anything." That was the fastest reply Amelia ever gave in her life and she sounded too enthusiastic. She didn't care.

Noah looked more than pleased. "I'd like you to sit in our class. You don't have to do anything, just be there. Please?"

Amelia reeled back from her excitement, an earlier conversation with Galen suddenly coming back to her. That she was not to make a scene and be on the lay-low as humanly possible. Yet here was Noah, asking for her help and she felt like she could do anything he'd ask. The request was simple enough though. Amelia was sure she'd be able to keep her promise to Galen and assist Noah at the same time.

She nodded enthusiastically, and Noah looked like he'd cheer in glee. He stood up instead.

"Okay, meet me at the Senior Department Building at eight o'clock sharp. You can be ten minutes late if you'd like. I'll wait for you at the entrance. The class won't start without me anyway. Just to be sure, my room's the door with the code 4-105. You won't miss it."

Amelia nodded again, this time in understanding, and stood when Noah started heading for the door. He held it open for her, locked it, then, as smooth as a calm ocean that reflected the blue in the serene sky, he took her hand in his again.

It felt so natural, her hand in his, yet it surprised her how candid he had done it. When she looked up at him though, she realized it was just as flustering to him as it was to her. Because of his creamy skin, it was easy to distinguish the blotchy blushing on his cheeks, over his nose and around his earlobes. He wasn't looking at her either.

Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be half bad even if people kept staring at her the way they were now as they walked out of the Sports Department.

She found herself smiling as her cheeks warmed.

They walked in silence as they headed for the Arts Department, neither trusting their voices to speak, yet sidelong glances and shy smiles were shared all the while. It was nice, that feeling where you just didn't mind each other, appreciating each other's presence, proximity, existence. Amelia never felt like that before. She liked that feeling.

And maybe that was why, when they reached the Arts Department and Noah was saying goodbye that she felt daring. She tugged the sleeve of his jacket and he stopped and looked back at her. Before her nerves won out of the bout of dauntlessness ebbed away, Amelia stood on her tiptoes as she pulled his face down and gave his cheek a light peck.

Blushing furiously, Amelia didn't dare look at him when she said "Break a leg tomorrow." And ran off.

It took Noah a second or ten to realize what had just happened, his eyes staring in disbelief at the space that once occupied Amelia. He blinked, then gloved fingers lightly grazed his right cheek, an inch below his eye, a centimeter away from his lips, a spot that burned so hot he wondered why his face wasn't peeling off yet. He didn't dare fully touch it, hysterically afraid that what happened might get brushed away by the cloth on his hand.

He stood there for a minute, utterly dumbfounded, then, slowly, an ear-to-ear grin creeped its way on his face and stayed until he came back to his room, where he locked the door behind him and started jumping in silent hoots of laughter.

His phone buzzed as he celebrated but he paid it no mind as he started working furiously on his report, a new impetus making him want to finish it before daybreak.

On his phone, four messages buzzed:

One from his mom, saying she might be home on Friday;

One from his dad, letting him know that his allowance was safely transferred to his account;

One from Zack, who announced in a group message that there would be visitors tomorrow and that all fourth years be at the SDB by seven thirty;

And lastly, one from an unregistered number, telling him he'd be dead this week if he didn't stay away from Amelia.