Blue Skies

Chapter 9 [Abelia]

Chapter 9 [Abelia]

 

“Abelia!”

Calumn ran towards me, down the hall, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. Besides that, there was no other sound in the empty hallway.

Moments ago however, anyone could clearly hear the quiet sobbing of a girl. I wonder what happened. Or maybe I really don’t want to know.

“Abelia.”

Calumn had somehow managed to appear right in front of me without me realizing. Uncomfortably close to me for my liking, I took an automatic step back in surprise. Whichever distance I looked at Calumn from however, I could clearly see the red handprint that decorated his face.

My icy fingers managed to extend out of the holes in my jacket and touched his cheek. His face was surprisingly heated, and I noticed how he flinched when my fingertips met his skin. I didn’t show any expression from when he came up to me til now, even though it seemed quite ‘intimate’ that he was pressing his cheek onto my palm now. I seemed to be lost in thought, staring at his bruised cheek, not being able to pull away. Freckles decorated his face right underneath his dark green eyes, although there seemed to be some uneasy guilt swimming through them. And behind that…loneliness? Hurt? What was it about him that I could never read his exact emotions when I tried?

“Abelia. Uhm, do you mind letting go of my face now?”

I snapped out of it. Shoot. I wonder how long we were both in that awkward position. This was so very unlike me. Maybe like my mother said, this was the side effects of regular human interaction withdrawal. Now I seem somewhat desperate or worrisome with every sense of contact – physical or verbal – I have with people.

I hate it when my mother is right.

“Abelia?”

“Oh yeah. I’m s-sorry. Just lost in thought I guess.”

He had to call my name around four times within the time span of…how long? Not very long that’s for sure. What was with me today? Was it the detention that knocked me off or was it the girl I had seen crying just moments earlier?

Calumn was looking at me, frowning in concern. It didn’t help much that the left side of his cheek was still an unpleasant shade of pink.

“Uh, Abelia? You still want to get me that ice cream you owed me?”

I stared at him blankly. At his face, then back at him. At his face, then again at him.

He seemed to get what I was hinting at.

“Oh, my cheek? It’s fine. Just a little –“He winces, “ - ah. Yeah. It’s nothing.”

I don’t break my stare, wondering how in the world he can communicate with me non-verbally so well when my own mother can’t understand that I don’t want her burnt toast for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. I’m just not very fond of her burnt toast. He seems to understand that I was staring at him expectantly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was the one to break the stare.

I however, don’t move.

It just seemed kind of weird to me, staring at this overly energetic boy who infuriated the teacher and made everyone laugh when upset. Even if sometimes he did ridiculous things at the wrong moment, he was always there to just smile. And now here he was, staring at his shoes, with a handprint on the left side of his face. Waiting to get ice cream with me, of all people. And also after detention, I might add. The fact that he was over a head taller than me seemed to just disappear, leaving me to wonder who this ‘Calumn Farrell’ really was.