Discolored

Chapter 3 - The Trouble with English

Becca breezed into her English classroom, one of the first to come in, as usual. The desks were set up in a slightly deformed oval shape; something the teacher did when they were to have group discussions. Becca decided it would be best to be able to see everyone in a relatively head-on angle, so she swooped into a seat relatively near the back of the room.

Rolling her backpack off of her shoulders and onto the floor, she began scanning the area. To her surprise, Rhys was already present, sitting diagonally across the room. He had a notebook open flat on the desk, his tall frame hunched over it as he scribbled; drawing, she presumed. Smirking, she got up from her spot, quickly walking over to his place to stand directly behind his arched form.

She quickly grabbed his shoulders, bending over slightly, and chirped “Hey, Rhys!” into his ear.

“Holy...!” Rhys jumped, nearly going airborne. He bit his lip, restraining himself from exclaiming too loudly. Becca smiled in accomplishment as he turned around, narrowing his eyes at her. “A little warning would have been nice, darling. I’d rather not have a heart attack in the middle of English, thank you.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s a little hard to get someone’s attention when they’re zoned in on a notebook!” She laughed, placing her hands on her hips. “What are you drawing, anyway?”

His eyes widened quickly. “Nothing.”

Intrigue sparked in Becca’s mind. “Let me see it.”

“No!” He shut the notebook hastily, a defensive look in his eyes.

Becca laughed once again. “Oh come on, Rhys, if you’re drawing me, you don’t have to be scared to show me.” She raised her eyebrows playfully, reaching up and ruffling his hair slightly.

Rhys rolled his eyes, one hand fixing his hair, and the other bringing his notebook down to his lap. “I’m definitely not drawing you, trust me.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said sarcastically. She tilted her head over to her seat. “Come on, come sit by me.”

Finally, he cracked a smile and laughed lightly. “Okay, okay. Give me a second.” Becca grinned, pivoting and returning to her seat. By this point, the vast majority of the class had entered; quite a few of them staring curiously at Rhys. He strolled over, plopping down next to her, and flashing her a quick smile.

“So, how’d you get here so early?” Becca asked, crossing her arms on the desk.

Rhys chuffed. “Darling, your school’s not too hard to get around. It’s a tad small.”

“Small??” Becca gaped. It had taken her forever to find all of her classes freshman year; she felt like a fish out of water. And, here Rhys was, making it seem like navigating the school was like completing the maze on a kid’s menu. 

“In comparison, yes. My old school had three buildings that I had to weave through daily. I think I can handle two floors.”

“Geez, way to make me feel inferior, Mr. Big City Man!” She laughed, although partially serious. Three buildings would make Becca’s head spin.

“Oh, stop with that. I like it here. I mean, I have you here, right?” He smirked, raising his eyebrows. Becca’s face burned scarlet as her mind whipped through all the possible connotations of that sentence.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you do.” She mumbled, looking down at her hands. Stupid, stupid blush! She thought, Could I be any more obvious right now? Pull yourself together, Becca!

Her inner monologue was broken by the obnoxious tone of the late bell. Almost on cue, a blur of blonde hair bolted into the classroom, panting slightly as it reached its desk. “I’m not late, I swear!” The boy announced, putting his hands in the air. Becca’s jaw locked as her gaze fixated on her ex, but she soon felt a surge of accomplishment as she noticed a bruise forming where she had smacked him the day before.