Chasing Sunrise

Two

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The halls were emptying, so the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and a few giggles, whispers, and shoes squeaking on tile were soon the only sounds.

His expression grew quizzical. "And you can drop the act," he pressed, leaning forward so that he towered over me.

I held up my hands to defend myself, and he flinched back like I'd thrown a punch. As if I were a six-foot-tall jock, with perfect aim and a well-muscled arm. Given how broad Corban's shoulders were, I knew he could beat me to a pulp with one hand, so why was he so freaked?

Slowly he rounded to look at me again.

I still had my hands up. "I..." It came out as a squeak.

He looked me up and down, then shook his head. "Something doesn't add up here. Is this some kind of trick?"

I wasn't sure what "this" referred to, and my throat was no less dry nor more able to produce words than it had been seconds ago.

His gaze went from mildly baffled to utterly confused.

At least he stopped looming over me.

I took a deep, slow breath. "I just want to go to class," I said in a voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper.

He smirked at that, as if I'd told a joke. Then after a moment he said, "You're kidding, right? You think I'm going to let you go to class and mingle and make new friends?"

I couldn't tell if he was being ironic. It wasn't as if I was going to be a social butterfly, or even graceful enough to make one friend, let alone friends, plural. Did he know that, and was he mocking me? Or did my new appearance make me look socially ept?

The metallic rattle of a bell made me almost jump out of my skin.

Corban looked at me as if I were growing a second head right before his eyes. He folded his arms with the easy air of someone who knew he was where he belonged.

I wondered if I'd feel that way anywhere ever again. Home was the one place I'd felt I'd belonged and Dad was the one person who always loved me no matter what. Without him, I had no refuge anymore.

Great, my eyes were burning again. Way to go, Liana. Cry in the hallway on your first day.

"Stop it," Corban ordered. "I'm not in the mood for stupid tricks."

Indifference I could handle, but cruelty? Being told that my tears were a stupid trick?

My eyes flooded and I could feel my face scrunching up into a full-on ugly cry. I didn't know whether to be mortified, heartbroken, or just plain desperate to be elsewhere. What resulted was a combination of all three, an emotion that somehow managed to feel ten times worse than any one of them taken alone.

I thought life had been hard as a plain-Jane nobody at the Hawke Academy. That was naive.

The sound of a door swinging shut caused me to turn my head, and through the blur of my tears I could just make out the sign with the little, flat, skirt-clad figure that signalled the girls' restroom. As fast as my feet would carry me, I bolted for it, barrelled on through, and made my way somehow to a stall. Only when I felt the cool metal of its door against my palms and knew for certain that I was holding it shut, walling the world out, did I let the tears fall. I fumbled with the latch until I made it lock, then leaned against the cold tile wall and sobbed.

*

Utter quiet had descended. Everyone was in class, and here I was, hyperventilating and leaning against a wall that seeped the warmth out of me. I'd managed to get the tears to stop, but only just. I had to get control, and then perhaps I could leave school and hope that my aunt would take pity on me. I had just lost my father, her brother. She might understand.