Beauty and the Brendan

Prologue

A boy shuffled through the doors of the classroom, dragging one foot across the floor, keeping his eyes down. His hands were safely secured in the pockets of his jacket, and his glasses were firmly fixed to his face.

"You're late," a reprimanding voice cut through the air, scolding him.

He muttered a quick apology and finally looked up, scanning the classroom. Twenty pairs of blank eyes stared back at him, noting the newcomer and silently analysing him. Slowly, they began to move their bags to rest on the seats beside them, clearly saying: don't sit next to me. Sighing, he tightened his grip on his bag and plopped himself in the remaining seat, which was next to a girl who was busy texting on her phone. She had a short bob, which was dyed a light brown colour. The typical Asian hair, he thought.

The girl looked up with a start as he sat down. Her fingers automatically reached for her bag, realising too late that a newcomer had arrived, but he was already occupying the seat next to her. She bit her lip and moved her possessions closer to her side of the table, saying nothing. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

He was in the midst of turning to the front of the room, where the teacher had begun their lesson, when he noticed the stark contrast in the face of the girl sitting beside him. Her hair was light, yet the colour of her eyes were so dark they resembled midnight. Strange, but alluring.

As the minutes floated by, the classroom took out their textbooks and attempted to follow the teacher's voice, which droned on and on, for so long that most of the students' attention had wavered. The boy drew the cap he wore further down to cover more of his face. The light in the classroom was too blinding, too entrapping.

"So, when you exaggerate in your statements, what is that called?" the teacher randomly asked, putting the whole class on alert. Her beady eyes were focused on the girl sitting beside the boy.

"Um..." the girl's face seemed calm, yet her hands were rapidly flicking through the notes she had spread out on her table. "A...hyperbowl?"

The teacher's cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink, from frustration or fury, the boy couldn't tell. But the girl suddenly looked afraid, scared that she was about to be told off, and on an impulse, the boy said, "Hyperbole."

When the class spun as one to glance at him, he wanted to hit himself. Why had he spoken out of turn like that?

Too late to back out now. I just dug my own grave. "It's...pronounced as hi-per-beli," he explained, his voice addressing everyone in the room, but his eyes only resting on the girl and her strange eyes. "Not hyperbowl."

She wrung her hands together and made a face, well aware that the class was watching. "Okay then." He didn't miss her rolling her eyes at the ceiling when the teacher wasn't looking. She probably thought he was one of those seeking to be the teacher's pet, or simply to be a show-off in class.

He shrugged. She can roll her eyes all she wants, but I just saved her guts. 

The teacher, deeming the girl's - and the boy's - answer satisfactory enough, resumed her lesson, and the boy readjusted his glasses on his face and squinted at the whiteboard, attempting to decipher the words that had been messily scrawled on its surface. He rubbed his face, already done with the class.

Who invented tutoring? This is ridiculous. Why have extra school when I could be spending this time doing better things?

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw a pen poke the corner of his pencil case. He swiveled around to face the girl, who was holding a pen in her hand.

She held his gaze before saying quietly, "Thank you." Her words were faint but genuine.

Well, at least I got the thanks I deserved. He simply gave her a nod in response. "You're welcome."

As the awkwardness settled in, the girl coughed lightly before shifting to face the front of the room, leaving the boy sitting there, frozen, still wandering about the events that had just occurred before him.

And to his surprise, the corners of the boy's lips pulled upwards into a smile.

He never smiled.