17 | H.S

Chapter 4 - Ghost

4

Ghost

The night before school Mrs. Styl- Anne came over with a batch of "Thank you" brownies. Her and my mother sat in our living room for a good hour talking before she left. She didn't mention anything about the liquorice on her front doorstep and my mother mentioned nothing of the sugar.

...

I woke up with the stupid sun crawling its way into my room stupid room. A knock at the door started my headache early that day, "Nora, are you up? You have to leave in thirty minutes." My mom called to me from the other side. I groaned in response kicking my white sheets to the foot of the bed and rolling out of it a few minutes later. I was dragging ass but for all the right reasons. Today it finally hit me; like I told Craig it would. I was going back to school for the first time after the accident. I was going to see everyone that I have been avoiding for the last three months. I no longer had Beth to stand by my side. I was starting over. And I was starting over alone.

I pulled up to the front of the school, dropping Isa off in front of all of her friends. They all stared at me like I was a ghost, which I pretty much was at that point. I parked in the senior parking lot and hauled myself and my backpack inside. I figured people would stare, and I wasn't wrong but again it was like I was a ghost in their eyes. I drew my attention elsewhere and kept walking. As I made my way to Senior English, avoiding the hallway of the accident, I grew anxious as if someone was watching me. I mean, yeah everyone was watching me, but this was different. There was a sense of power floating through the air and I know whoever it was they were different from the rest. I looked for a source to who it might be and froze when my eyes locked with Harry's. He leaned against the wall just opposite of my English class. He had his infamous tight black pants on and a dress shirt with boots. But this time the boots were a dark brown and his dress shirt was white. It seemed to be opened a little more than the last time I saw him, exposing his chest of art. I noticed smaller tattoos scattering up and down his arms. Mostly on his left side. His hair resembled mine in the way that it curled, although my hair had much more curls, that were slightly a darker brown and mine lay a bit more thicker on my scalp. His light green eyes were shadowed and dull. He looked as if he could murder someone right now and not have a care in the world. His face was expressionless. But he still stared at me.

After a good minute I finally was able to break away from him and stumble into class. He pursued behind; without a word. I sat in the back left corner of the room and his eyes followed me the whole time until I sat down. Standing in the front of the class with his large hands shoved into his pockets, he finally looked away from me, taking a seat on the other of the room, in the back right corner. He didn't look at me for the rest of that period. He just stared straight ahead as if he was actually listening to what Mr. Thatcher had to say, but I know he wasn't because sometimes his gaze would fall away as if he were staring into nothing. And his brows were constantly knitted together as if he were contemplating something, trying to figure something out or solve a problem that lay deep within his mind.

When the bell rang Harry's focus was again, back on me. I felt his eyes on me as I walked down the hallway to my art class making an immediate left and leaving him behind and with nothing more to look at.

...

"How was it?" My mom asked as I walked through the door, not even giving me a chance set my stuff down let alone breathe. I'd have to hand it to Craig, and my mother, and the pharmacist, my antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication were helping. But there was something about today that put me a little on edge. But I didn't want my mom to see that. I figured it was probably just because it was the first day and people were staring... That's what I told myself anyway. "It was okay." I finally find the words.

She raised a brow at me for a moment but then chose to shrug off my awkward behavior. "Do you think you could set the table? We are having company over tonight and-"

"Who?"

"Anne and her son... Harry is it?" My eyes grow wide with her response. "What's wrong? I thought you met him. He seems like a nice young man."

"When did you meet him?"

"He stopped by this morning to offer you and Isa a ride to school. But you two had just left."

Why would he send me and bag of sugar, and offer me a ride to school but not talk to me? Why was he constantly looking at me today? What was wrong with him? Or maybe, what was wrong with me?