The Turning Paige

one

"Miss Krasikeva, since you are so obviously paying attention, answer the question on the board." Madame Edwards' voice brought me back to class, being that my mind had drifted off. I stopped the tapping of my pencil I had been doing and looked up at her guiltily. "Madame?"

"Please answer the question on the board for the class Miss Krasikeva, I know you're capable of this." Her thick French accent wasn't sarcastic, just knowing. After all I did have an 'A' in French...and in all of my other classes.

"Of course, um..." I trailed, scanning the question on the board that read: C'est quand ton anniversaire? When is your birthday? In which I replied, "Mon anniversaire est le deuxième d'Avril", telling her my birthday is April second.

"Oh la la, C'est en deux semaines." She explained aloud that it was in two weeks.

"Oui." I supplied hoping to end this conversation, and thankfully it did as she moved to the next student.

I was about to resume my pencil tapping but I halted, thinking it was probably annoying to everyone else around me. After French there was lunch, and after lunch I had my free period. Every day I looked forward to free period because that was my time to go to the music room and be alone to practice my beloved cello.

Minutes passed, and finally the bell rang. Everyone was out of their seats and dashing out of the door to the cafeteria. I bring my lunch and usually sit outside alone, so I took my time leaving class.

"Mademoiselle Krasikeva?" Madame Edwards stopped me before I could pass out of the class threshold.

"Uh, Oui?" I answered hesitantly. She wore a slight smile, her eyes gentle.

"Oh, don't worry, you're not in trouble." She reassured. I sighed visibly relaxing. "I just wanted you to know I wasn't trying to embarrass you earlier in class today. I just wanted you to return to the present." She chuckled. I returned it, but it was a little forced because, well, she is my teacher.

"It's okay; I kinda figured that's what you were doing. Sorry for drifting away."

"You're fine dear, have a good lunch." She dismissed me with a wave. Parting goodbye I was out of the door, navigating my way through the halls to get outside in the fresh air.

Finding my usual table, I sat down and pulled my lunch bag out of my backpack. I also took out homework assignments and notes that were given today and spread them along the table. I used my lunch break to study and do homework so I didn't feel guilty for not doing it during free period because I spend that time focusing on music. I didn't feel the need to neatly organize my paper on the table either since I knew there was hardly a chance anyone would try and sit here. And it wasn't because I didn't have any friends, I had friends--well, one really--and we weren't that close. I also was not the school's pariah, just quiet and guarded is all.

All around me swarmed students of Beacon Hills High. Coincidentally, at the table to my right sat some of Beacon's, so called, popular sophomores. I inwardly rolled my eyes. No, I had nothing against them, and they haven't yet done anything to me, but they just seemed so full of themselves, and the boys of the group just came off as cocky. Though attractive, their attitudes were borderline repulsive and severely obnoxious, but there were a select few. The select few were ones that showed potential, the potential of truthfully being the opposite of the façade they've built up. Those few were hidden gems.

Noticing things like this is what I'm good at. Being quiet and reserved means I have an impeccable view of my surroundings. I'm able to watch from the outside and observe the lives of others. How they carry themselves, how they feel, what they possibly could be going through. I get to see things happen as if I'm watching it unravel on a television screen. I've seen break ups, mishaps, setups, and unfortunately hook ups. And after things happen I see how a person's life is changed, even the smallest things. Small things like a smile on someone's face, a bounce in their step, slumping in their shoulder, the glittering or watering of the eyes--I've silently observed it all. Sometimes it gave me a nice feeling seeing someone smile when previously they were down. It's not as if I'm creeping on my classmates, I'm just taking into consideration some things others might not. And I think everyone wants that--to know someone cares.

And I don't mind knowing someone's not noticing me this way, it's just a thing I'm capable of doing, and that's completely okay. Though, sometimes I wonder when, or if something will happen to me. Whether it's life changing or not, I pray that I will find enjoyment in some part of it. And happenings are weird that way, you never know if it will be good or bad, for your benefit or for someone else's, you just know that they happen for a reason and there's no changing it. So when my time does come, and whatever happens, happens, I'll do my best to remain optimistic for whoever's life it may affect.

***

Forty five minutes had passed and finally the bell rang, signaling for the next period. Quickly, I re-gathered all of my things and shoved them into my backpack, to then begin a fast paced walk to the music room. Once I got inside I shut the door, hearing it click behind me. Throwing my backpack to the floor somewhere, I grabbed the cello I might as well call my own. Lately, I've been working on one piece for no reason in particular--Ave Maria. It was exquisite and I hoped to amount to such quality one day.

I spent the rest of the period practicing and perfecting while the metronome in front of me ticked steadily. I hated when my time in here was over. You would think that I had music as my elective so I wouldn't care as much, but the class was already full when it came time for the school to make my schedule, so I lost that opportunity. But thankfully Mr. Allen, the music teacher, is an angel who would meet with me after school on Mondays to help me perfect my playing. Sighing, I placed my cello with the other instruments and picked up my backpack, leaving one of my favorite rooms.

My final class of the day was English. I was beginning to feel tired, so I'm relieved my teacher is pretty relaxed. When I arrived I took my usual seat in the middle row, a couple of the popular students sat in the row behind me. As Ms. Vincent spoke of The Great Gatsby, I found myself mindlessly drawing doodles on a piece of loose leaf paper. My pencil fell out of my hand, in the midst of twirling it, and landed on the ground next to me. Before I could reach down to retrieve it, a hand jutted out and grabbed my pencil, extending it to me.

I turned to face them. "Thanks." I acknowledged quietly. He gave me the half smirk I've always heard about. "No problem."

I faced forward again, rolling my eyes. My first encounter with one of Beacon Hills' most infamous students, I thought; great.

***********

yay for update at 2am, thats kinda why the end sucks. i also wanted some suspense before i dived in to their already created "first actual meeting".

anyway... vote, comment, share please --lilli :)