A connection to the past

Chapter 4

Two uneventful hours passed. I met two new teachers who adore me, found out Sasha likes geography, and solved a few problems in geometry class. Eventually lunch hour came and we entered the cafeteria. I stood in line, the girls behind me. I'd was deeply thinking of the problem we had gotten as homework in geometry, so I didn't even notice that I'd gotten to the front of the line and the lunch lady was looking at me annoyed because I was just standing there, not telling her what kind of soup I wanted.

After taking our lunch we sat at a table, which the girls told me would be our table from now on. Some kind of unspoken rule that the table you pick on your first day is the one you'll be sitting at for the rest of the school year. They started telling me about the groups in the school and how every group had its table, when a nerdy looking guy dropped his tray on the table and started talking to the girls about how unfair the computer studies teacher was, because she gave him a 95 instead of 100 on the test paper. I couldn't help but interfere: "You mean you actually did everything right and she gave you a 95?" I asked, disbelieving. Then came another guy. This one slammed his tray on the table and asked the girls: "Now he's complaining to you too isn't he?" he smiled at them and, not waiting for an answer, he turned his gaze to me and then back, asking: "Who's the new face?" Sasha made her *I'm about to tell you something you don't know, so don't interrupt me* face (I think), then started talking: "Maeve, meet Troy" she motioned toward the first guy of the two. He had blond hair and blue eyes, which would have been a great girl magnet if it weren't for his giant glasses, which by then I'd realized they always fell off his nose, so he often had to push them back with the index finger of his left hand, which clued me to the fact that he was left handed, so I knew it even before he started eating. He wore a blue long-sleeved shirt, which matched his eyes, grey jeans, and black sneakers. He seemed to be the kind of person that always wanted to learn more, because although he seemed to know so much, it was never enough. "and Ross." Sasha continued, motioning to the other guy. This one had brown-reddish hair and green eyes. He didn't wear glasses but you could see from a mile away that he was also kind of a nerd. Probably in the way he carried himself. But it was clear that he was cooler than Troy. He wore ripped blue jeans and a white t-shirt. On it there were imprinted two words: Say what? Just as his friend, he wore sneakers, tall ones actually. Although he looked cool, by meeting his gaze I could see how smart he really was. That's probably why he spends his time with a guy like Troy. "Boys, meet Maeve Holloway." Sasha ended her explanation. She leaned over the table and mock whispered to the boys: "She's sort of a nerd too."

After a minute of silence, Sally began talking again (shocker): "You know, last year Ross was asked to join the A group but he said no." she told me, excited. "Do you seriously have to tell that to everyone new I meet? Every single time?" Ross said tiredly. I looked at him, confused: "Why say no? I mean, from what I heard until now the A group means total popularity and loads of perks. And girls. What reason could you possibly have of saying no?" He met my gaze and we looked at each other for a couple of seconds. Finally, he smirked and said: "That's what they asked me. They were really shocked by my answer. But I said no because I don't go anywhere or be in any group without my bro." he put his left hand around Troy's neck, squeezing a bit. Troy smiled and Sally intervened again: "They've been friends since they were both in a crib. Nothing can separate them. They almost never fight, and if they do, it ends two minutes later when they apologise, tears in their eyes, asking each other how they could have started fighting in the first place." While she talked, her smile kept getting bigger and bigger. When she finished, they were both frowning and Troy said: "We don't do that." Then he looked at me. "She's deeply exaggerating." I smiled at him reassuringly, showing him that I'd realized it had been a joke. Suddenly, Sasha started smiling, as if she was about to burst into laughter because of what she was thinking. "But there was that one time..." They looked at each other and then, after a moment of silence they all started laughing. I just sat there, feeling a bit awkward. I couldn't laugh with them because I had no idea what they were laughing about. That's a disadvantage in befriending people who have known each other since long before you came along.

It seemed that they'd never stop laughing. It was probably just me because no more than a few seconds could have passed. Anyway, I started looking around the cafeteria, trying to occupy my mind with something. As my gaze moved over all the tables, it stopped on one in particular. As I examined it and the people sitting there I realized why it had caught my eye. There, a familiar gaze met mine. It was, as you might have imagined, David. I had no idea why he had been looking at me, but when I caught him, he didn't turn his head away. We just kept looking at each other until Sally snapped her fingers in front of my eyes and looked in the direction where I had, just seconds before. After realising who I'd been looking at she smiled a big smile and then turned towards the others. "Well, it seems David Night has enchanted this one as well." I frowned. "No he hasn't. I barely know the guy. I only talked to him two times in my life!" I said in a defensive tone. Why, I didn't know. I also didn't know why I felt the need to explain myself to them. "Then why were you staring at him?" Troy asked, raising an eyebrow. It seemed that he was very used to 'girl talk' and sometimes actually took part in it. On the other hand, Ross was just eating in silence. What was his problem? Did he, for some reason, not like David? "I was looking, not staring, at him because I caught him looking, not staring at me." That made them shut up. "Why would he look at you?" Sasha asked. "Why wouldn't he? She's hot." Ross, for the first time, spoke. He said it in an absent tone, as if it were just a fact from a book he had read the night before. He had his face down, looking into his pasta. He seemed sad. Either that or he had a reason for not wanting to meet our gazes.

As lunch ended we parted ways, each one of us having to go to their next class. I thought I wouldn't see a familiar face in the next hours, knowing that all my new friends had different classes from mine for the rest of the day, but I was wrong. I entered French class and saw him, David. He was looking at me. Our gazes met again, and the eye contact didn't break until I reached my desk and sat down. After that I buried my head in my backpack searching for my notebook, which I immediately found, because there were only two books inside it, but I kept the appearance of still searching, hoping it wasn't obvious that I was stalling. "So, are you going to tell me your name?" he asked. "Or is it that hard to find your notebook?" I raised my head and looked at him, making a decision. Not a big one anyway, but I had to talk and act around him the way I did with everyone else, like I wasn't afraid of him finding out my secret, like I had nothing to hide. I brushed the hair from my eyes, raised my head, and said: "Yeah... it's Maeve." He smiled. "Maeve..." Miss Peterson entered the room. She was a very young teacher. I knew she was a nice person the second I laid eyes on her. I also knew I'd like her, but that didn't change the fact that I didn't like what she was going to teach me. I hate French. I always did. I don't know why. But I'm very good at it. That's not a surprise considering I'm good at every subject in school. It's kind of a gift. She started teaching us new expressions. I realized what she was doing was trying to find out what we actually knew, if we could speak French or not. I raised my hand a couple of times and she noticed that I was sure about my answer, that I didn't need her reassurance about the fact that it was or wasn't correct. She started smiling every time she saw my hand up, which was almost every time.

When the bell rings everyone starts filing out. That being my last class of the day, I head to my locker to get my things and go home. For the second time that day, David comes to my locker, slams it, and leans into it, a smirk on his face. "Will you go out with me?" I look at him, smile. "No." If he's fazed by my answer, he doesn't show it. "Then at lest let me walk you home." I smile again "No thanks." and I turn my back to him, walking away, toward the exit. "I will figure you out Maeve Holloway!" He shouts after me. And so the dance begins.