Escort For The Witch
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My mood significantly improved.
“Nah, I’ve already thought about it, she won’t go for it. And she could use a career change too,” my friend mused.
“Eric, where’s your sister?” I asked quietly.
“She told me to go to hell and went to the auditorium. You guys have, I think, English Literature or History or something now. She’s fine. Last night she was cursing up a storm because of her new admirer. You know, he’s very… persistent,”
Eric winked mischievously.
“Yeah, I know. And how about you? Caught up on missed classes?” I inquired.
Eric was always a very clever guy, and it would be a shame if he dropped out of university because of a failed love affair.
“A lot of catching up to do, which is exactly what I'm doing. And then everything will be ok! So, I’m off to repent to Mr. Mason. Wish me luck, because I’m definitely not ready for physics!” Eric laughed again.
“Good luck!” Eric always scored a solid A in physics, and as a result, high expectations were placed on him, which I sincerely hope he’ll live up to. Well, Literature or History it is then. You couldn’t think of a more exciting subject if you tried.
The day was shaping up to be quite a good one. I glanced at the sky in surprise.
Through the gray clouds, blurry patches of sunlight were beginning to break through. Maybe all is not lost yet? Well, History. No one has died from it yet, and certainly no one has gone crazy. So, everything’s fine. For now…
Chapter 8
Dispute
I leisurely entered the classroom and made my way to the back, comfortably settling myself down at the very last desk by the wall. The class wouldn’t start for the next ten minutes, and everyone was busy doing anything but reviewing today's material.
“How’s it going, Jack?” asked Scott Waring, a youth with straw-colored hair and dimples on his cheeks. He had a look of complete innocence about him, unlike Eric or Sabrina, and his blue eyes were framed by thick lashes. This was the guy who drove all the girls in our year crazy. And I’d bet even the girls from the other years too.
He used to be one of Sabrina’s admirers, but all his attempts to get her attention had crumbled to dust when she had sent him, figuratively, as far away as the confines of the English language would allow. Since then, he had given up that foolish endeavor and switched to less verbally abusive and more receptive targets.
“Great, Scott. And you?” Notice how I always try to be super friendly and polite.
“Alright.”
“Ready for class?” I asked, even though I couldn’t care less.
“Of course. How else? And you?” Scott inquired.
“Of course. No other way.”
Here it is, the reason Sabrina doesn’t like him. He’s just awfully boring! Always looks impeccable: perfectly shaved, well-dressed, well-mannered, and always ready for class…
Sabrina nestled herself in the corner at the very back of the classroom to my left.
Apparently, she wasn’t ready either. Remembering the last literature class when she had disrupted my brooding, I moved over to her table and sat down beside her.
“Well, well, look who showed up,” she remarked casually.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” I asked, feigning sadness.
“Of course I am,” Sabi sang sweetly, slamming her textbook on the table.
I glanced at her sideways. Pretty… Crimson, slightly plump lips parted slightly, tousled hair falling in large curls on slender shoulders. Long, full lashes nearly casting shadows on her pale cheeks. High eyebrows, a neat little nose, sharp cheekbones… My eyes moved down involuntarily, resting on her chest that was rising and falling with each breath. The plunging neck top made the sight devilishly enticing. I swallowed audibly and tried to look away. It was difficult, but oddly enough, I managed.
“Nice sweater,” I blurted out and regretted it. Good Lord! What am I saying?
And out loud too!
Sabrina slowly turned to stare at me with her beautiful ultramarine eyes full of indignant surprise. And there it was, what I had feared. Her eyebrows knitted together ominously. She took a deep breath and was about to open her mouth to say everything she hadn’t had a chance to say in all her twenty-three years, when Professor Stone literally stormed into the classroom.
“Take your seats!” he barked. “Silence in the classroom!”
Oh, Mr. Stone! You just saved my life! Literally!
Trying to ignore Sabrina, I casually opened my notebook and began doing what all normal students usually do in lectures. Namely, doodling .
Sabrina snatched the notebook from under my hand before I could even finish my masterpiece. I turned and glared at her. The girl was writing something down feverishly crossing stuff out, then writing it again. She pushed the notebook back towards me. Couldn’t she use her own? There was a single sentence on the page.
“What did you just say?” it read.
I glanced at her. “Have you gone deaf?” crossed my mind, but now there was genuine surprise in her eyes.
“I said your sweater looks cool,” I wrote down.
Sabrina frowned, and snatched the notebook again.
“You don’t actually like the sweater, do you?” she quickly wrote. I stared at her again. Does she really think I’m going to write a heartfelt confession that I had spent a good chunk of time staring at her chest? Yes, they do say there’s a blonde in every woman…
“But I do, I also love Nine Inch Nails, ” I scribbled.
She snorted and kicked me under the table.
“Come on, you primitive creature!” Sabrina wrote. “Back off, please,” I think my response was quite concise. Then followed a written exchange that resembled more a fencing session than a civilized dialogue.
“Jack, did you break your fingers? Can’t you write better?”
“You’re such a pain!”
“Just answer me and I’ll leave you alone.”
Should I risk it and say what she wants to hear? Or she’ll drain me.