How I Heal

three

"How many times do you think you'll stare at Harry before your stare burns into his flesh and marks him?" Was the first thing Henrietta said to me the next day.

I spun around quickly, startled at the fact that she thought I may have been obsessing over him.

I wasn't, but the quick defense and the slight blush at my embarrassing moment really wasn't a convincing argument.

"I'm-I'm," I stuttered. "I'm not staring-"

"If you have to stutter, you're probably trying to defend yourself," I heard Henry say from two rows behind of us.

The funny thing was, there was no need for us to be separated, because our teacher wasn't in yet and we were usually side by side anyway.

"His name is Harry?" I asked rather rhetorically, only just now realizing how often I referred to him as "the new boy." It was strange how I never thought of him owning a name like everyone else.

"So Violet, in all your time of lusting," Henrietta joked, a laugh falling from her lips. "You never once thought it appropriate to ask for a name?"

I stared at my black haired friend, relinquishing on the sole basis that she thought I could ever "lust" over Harry.

I mean, I could live with a little harmless banter so it wouldn't kill me if she thought I liked him, it was just strange how little she actually knew of me if she thought I would like someone like him.

What was even weirder was how little I was staring at him today.

I don't even think I looked at him at all.

Or I don't think I did.

I honestly wasn't sure if I did or didn't because I seemed to always be staring ever since his arrival.

The conversation sparked a sudden urge to see him so I looked ahead of me and was greeted with a mop of brown curls.

I watched as his messy head of hair gave way to broad shoulders and strong arms barely held back by a thin white T-shirt. His fingers ran through his hair every time it seemed to come into his face, and he pushed it back patiently in one slow motion each time.

His angle made it hard to see his face but I could just imagine how great he looked today.

I couldn't deny how annoyingly good looking he was, and it angered me further because I still wanted to believe there was something off about him.

Over the course of his two day arrival he had yet to say anything to anyone unless they talked to him first. He got detention both afternoons and he was always late for every class. Not to mention how often he skips last period all together.

That boy was a bad egg if I ever saw one.

"Wow," I heard Henrietta say. "You really got all of that based on an observation."

I had only just realized that I had voiced my thoughts out loud and I held my head down in embarrassment.

"You know," Henry chuckled, continuing to further my distress. "For someone who claims to be the least affected by the new kids arrival, you sure seem pretty bothered to me."

"You can just tell us if you have a crush on Harry," Henrietta urged giving me no time to reply. "We're here for you and we won't judge you."

It was hard to picture someone like Harry being with someone like me, and not because I was a "loser" or an "outcast" just on the sole basis of us being two different people.

He seemed very aloof, and was someone who was always within himself and I was very eccentric and friendly and didn't mind making friends.

He seemed like someone who was more lonely in the company of others than the company of himself, and I could never see myself being anything remotely close to that.

"Stop talking about Harry, our teacher is here," Henry silenced us.

I gasped as Harry turned to me, obviously catching Henry's last words.

I was shell shocked. He actually heard what Henry said and now he was probably under the impression that I have some kind of secret portrait of his face tattooed on my back.

His crystal stare tore into me in, his eyes dazzling much like stars, and I wondered, breathlessly, what lay in that mind of his.

It wasn't long before the usual knit eyebrows and tight scowl came back and I knew whatever conversation we were having with our minds had ended.

I looked at Henrietta who gave me an excited face before hurriedly writing something on a piece of paper and throwing it in my direction.

It landed on my books and I opened it, the words, "I saw that" written clear as day.

I wanted to silently chuckle.

Was there really even anything to see?

I sent the paper back flying on her desk, another laugh falling from my lips at my delusional best friend.