constellations [DISCONTINUED]

delphinus

"Hey Carrots."

"Blythe." I sat down quietly, looking straight forward beside him.

"So..." He inhaled sharply, crossing his arms "how are you?"

"I'm fine." Couldn't answer him much, it was quite difficult to do so after what Saturday went like. Silence was established for a couple of seconds, I could hear Gilbert's discomfort and feel his teeth clenched, a tangible tension in the air.

"Well" He cleared his throat, so clearly uncomfortable, simply not knowing how to stand and how to act "I'm fine myself too, thank you for asking."

"That's good."

"So talkative today, more than usual."

"Okay."

"Oh, okay..."

And that's how our only conversation in English went. Mrs. Stacey blathered on short stories and pin pointed concepts we must've been able to understand for our analysis, but my brain couldn't focus on it completely. It often switched to my peripheral view of how Blythe was doing, often meeting his eyes for agonizing fractions of seconds. On and off, I was able to grasp most of what was being said in class but the racing of Gilbert's thoughts distracted me. It wasn't like I knew what he was thinking, I just knew that he was, and he was doing it a lot. His eyebrows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, his nose had a small crinkle on the bridge from stressing even the smallest muscles of his face. I, too, must've looked uncanny compared to the usual, because at the end of class, Diana was starring at me as if I had a tattoo that said 'I'm a Fascist' in my forehead.

I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about the events — If we can call it that — with Gilbert at the party with her so I just rushed to the photography room. I didn't wait for Gilbert, I didn't exchange a word with Diana, I was so quiet though my thoughts had been so, so loud, that I couldn't bear any kind sentences of "Are you okay?" or "What's wrong?".

I picked up my camera from the hangers in the room and sat quietly in my chair, nervously looking for my notebook, when an unfamiliar voice surprised me.

"Y'know, Mr. Porter's a bit scary, but you really don't gotta be that nervous in his class, I promise."

I looked to my left to a boy with the hair of the darkest shade of brown — the one one tone that came before it turned to black — his skin was of a cinnamon tone and his accent had a little something in it, couldn't quite figure what it was. He had a ruthenium-colored lip ring, wore a loose white shirt and his hair was curly, more than Blythe's.

"I'm Gabriel." He pronounced the name in a beautiful way, one that I wouldn't ever be able to mimic: gah-brri-elle. "Nice to meet you. You are?"

"Anne. With an E."

"Nice to meet you, Anne with an E. I'm Gabriel" He said it in that same manner once more "without an E."

I smiled, he seemed nice. "So, judging by the fact that I cannot absolutely pronounce your name, where are you from?"

"I'm Canadian, though I've lived in Brazil for a large chunk of my life and my parents are from there as well. The name's written as Gabriel, and you can definitely call me that, I just honestly like to see the confused look in Canadian faces when I introduce myself the other way."

"I can imagine. So, Gabriel, why are you here? I mean Avonlea."

"Well, my parents like the country life much more than the city one and they work from home anyways. Accountants. Most boring profession in the world."

"You like it here?"

"Oh yeah, it's pretty, people are nice... just a bit cold at times, but that's okay."

"Oh, it can definitely get cold here, I mean..."

"Mrs. Cuthbert, are you having a good time?" Mr. Porter shouted "I'm sure Mr. Souza is very interesting, but do you think you're able to take your eyes off of him and pay attention to class?"

I nodded nervously and turned over to the front of the class. Gabriel scoffed and mumbled something in Portuguese.

I didn't look back but I could feel Gilbert's eyes on me, a stare I couldn't shake off.