diagnosed (calum hood fanfiction)

III

grace's pov

"Ms. Lewis, what does this mean," I try to ask her, but it comes out more as a statement. "The number six is just everywhere, in everything, and it's so fuc- i mean, um, freaking random." I laugh under my breath. Ms. Lewis laughs, too.

"I don't know, Grace. Are you absolutely positive that there is no correlation or connection in your life to the number six in any way? Like, a certain date, or a time, or a person?" She asks, and she's asked me this question so many times. But, about so many other numbers, too.

"Yes, I absolutely cannot think of anything having to do with this number at all. And, this has happened to me with every other number and letter you can imagine. I don't think I have connections with every letter from the alphabet and every number on a timeline." It's weird, I think, after I say that statement. It's like I've wanted to say those exact words my whole life, but just now was the only time I've ever been able to say exactly how I feel and what I think in one sentence.

•••

My mom drops me off at school around the start of fifth period, and I still haven't been able to stop thinking about the mystery boy I saw in the waiting room.

I walk through the heavy doors, and meet the receptionist at the main desk. This is a regular occurrence, so she immediately starts writing me a pass to lunch. Without one, the staff who wanders the halls would send me immediately to detention- I feel like I'm in a prison sometimes.

She smiles to me, and I grab the slip from her fingers.

The whole time I walk to the cafeteria I think about him. I think about how badly I want to know his name. I come to the conclusion that I want to know his name so badly that it hurts.

I can't get his eyes out of my brain, the beautiful brown with glints of gold and his dark and long eyelashes. Whoever said brown eyes are the most boring out of all the colors was so incredibly wrong.

I remember his lips, and I imagine how incredibly soft they would feel on mine. I get worried, though. I hope me thinking of oranges whilst looking at them and then smiling at him didn't scare him away. I hope he didn't think I was laughing at him.

Did he think I was laughing at him?

Suddenly I'm hearing the noise from the lunch room, I stop in my tracks, I don't even remember coming here. My mind was so lost, thinking about this dark-haired boy.

I smile at the teacher who spends his lunch hour in the high school cafeteria, monitoring us. I feel bad that a grown man has to eat his lunch mostly watching the freshman wander around, but that thought always disappears once I remember he must enjoy it a little bit to keep doing it.

I run through the deli line for a minute, the line being almost nonexistent since lunch has been in session for around twenty minutes already.

I get a balanced meal, some hot Cheetos and a Kick Start energy drink.

"Thank you." I smile at the lunch lady after I pay for my chips and drink.

"You're welcome." She says, and I begin to walk to the table I sit at every day.

I make my way to the back part of the cafeteria, the side that's the farthest away from the main entrance. I greet Kate with an eye roll, and groan in exhaustion as I take my usual seat across from her. We sit at the end of the table, the one not closest to the wall. You see, it's a rectangular table, so there are a few juniors, sophomores, maybe even freshman, that occupy the side closest to the wall. At first it was just Kate and I, but they just started sitting here one day and I guess I don't mind. Kate is my only friend in this lunch hour, so I'm just glad I have her.