I Was Never Yours

Chapter 6

Callie P.O.V

I've successfully found my locker and am squinting  at the school map I received from the friendly secretary. Where is my damn home room? I finally spot the Grade 10A room and to my dismay it's two floors up and at the opposite end of the school. I've wasted precious time trying to find my locker and being questioned about my personal life by the secretary that I'm probably going to be late by the time I run, like a human-being, up the two flights of stairs to the classroom.

I come skidding to a halt in front of the yellowing beige doors, peaking in at the classroom full of students. The professor is already standing up in front of the class addressing them and I have the sudden urge to run the other way, but instead I draw in a shaky breath and force my legs to enter the room.

For a moment I just stand in the door way, taking in my surroundings while I wait for the teacher to finish his sentence. I glance around, noticing the tall shelves that wrap around the entire room. One holding microscopes and bunsen burners, another dedicated entirely to glassware, with flasks and beakers balanced precariously along it's edge. While another has what looks like small animals floating in jars of liquid, likely for dissecting, I look away slightly disgusted at the sight of a fetal pig bobbing weightlessly in it's large container. The rest of the shelves are adorned with figurines and textbooks. This is obviously the Science Lab, atleast I'll know how to get here when I have that subject.

The Professor doesn't seem to have noticed me yet because he still hasn't taken a breath of air, he's carrying on about school policies and dresscode and hasn't even realized that every eye in the room is looking at me instead of him. I clear my throat audibly to get his attention and he pauses, turning around, surprise etched across his face.

"Oh good morning," he says with a slight edge to his voice. "You must be Callie Stark?"

I nod curtly, keeping my gaze straight and unblinking.

"We value punctuality at MSST. Since it's your first day I'll show some lenience but you'll need to learn to get yourself here on time, young lady, or there will be problems. Take your seat." His voice is clipped and irritated as he points to the single empty seat at the back of the class which is beside a tall lanky boy with white blonde hair.

"Thanks, sorry I had trouble finding the place." I mutter making my way to the table. I perch my bottom onto the vibrant orange seat and stare down at my hands, willing all the inquisitive eyes to look anywhere else.

"Alright class, we're going to take attendance and then you'll have 10 minutes to get to your next class." Barks the teacher before he begins calling out names, "Anderson, Kathy?"

"Here!" Cries a girl to my left with sandy blonde hair pulled tight into a ponytail.

"So, you're Callie Stark." The boy sharing my table says while lavishly placing his chin on his palm, fingers splayed as if he'd just had a manicure and judging by the brilliant shine emanating from them I would bargain that he had.

I inadvertently shove my hands deep into my pockets, feeling uncharacteristically ashamed of my grease stained, chipped nails, impossible to maintain when I'm constantly working in the shop with my Father. Just as I've come to the conclusion that my fingers will never see the light of day again, he holds out a manicured hand saying, "I'm Harry Pearson," and I have no choice but to take his hand with my own.

"Nice to meet you," I say politely and then in surprise, "Oh! What are you..." as Harry quickly pulls my hand up to his face, eyes wide with surprise and disgust.

"Oh honey, we'll have to do something about these hands!" I feel my face begin to burn.

"Yeah I work in the shop with my Dad," I stutter awkwardly.

"Hm, I can't say I can relate," he says dropping my hand, but his smirk implies that he is being playful. "Let me do them, I love a good makeover. Tonight?" He says this, clasping his hands over his mouth with glee.

And without thinking, I find myself nodding in agreement.

"Yay!" He claps delightfully, "Oh, here Mr. Pruett!" He says waving an arm and then muttering under his breath, "Can you believe what an absolute asshole this guy is? The way he acted when you came in, I couldn't believe it."

"Yeah, as if I didn't feel bad enough about being late." I sigh, shoving my filthy fingertips back into my pockets.

"What classes do you have?" Harry asks, pulling his class schedule out from his bag, and I place mine beside his.

We spend the rest of homeroom highlighting the classes we'll be sharing and I'm relieved to see that we seem to share most of the same classes other than Calculus in which he is taking Biology, and Physics in which he has signed up for Sociology.

Finally all the names have been called and we're dismissed to our next class, Spanish. As we're exiting the classroom, Harry loops his arm in mine, and I can't help but feel like he is staking his claim on me, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. On one hand I'm relieved to have someone to talk to and be friendly with, on the other, why is he suddenly so warm towards me?

I'm pondering how to test Harry's authenticity when I walk head first into a dark blue backpack, so immersed in my thoughts that I didn't notice the bottle neck forming at the door way.

"Oh sorry!" I look up sharply to meet a pair of deep brown eyes, perfectly contrasting my own.

"I-i-it's okay." He stammers, his cheeks reddening slightly. I flick my eyes over him, taking in the soft waves of his hair that is neatly styled to the side, the strong jaw ending with a slightly crooked chin.

I feel my stomach do a weird kind of flip flop, a feeling unfamiliar to me, and I feel my face growing warm.

But before he even has time to notice he is hit hard in the back by a dark featured boy, "quit bothering Little Stark, Parker!" He snarls, a mean smirk playing on his face. He turns to me, arrogance emanating off of him I'm waves, "you don't want to hang with that garbage baby," he motions towards the handsome boy who is now looking at his shoes uncomfortably, and then motioning at Harry beside me.

"Well excuse me," my new friend pulls his arm from mine and steps forward, placing his hand on his hip with the kind of sass only Ru Paul could muster.

I side step Harry and stare this ass hole straight in the face, "you're right, I definitely don't want to waste my time on garbage. Come on Harry." We link arms again, but before we leave I turn to the dark haired boy who is staring at me, mouth gaping and offer my hand, "I'm Callie, nice to meet you...?"

"Peter, Peter Parker." He snaps back to reality, and shakes my hand and I feel my heart skip a beat when his warm hand connects with my own.