FicWad

I flipped my phone shut under the desk. I was constantly texting in class—to the point my friends warned me my fingers would fall off. Their constant teasing never phased me. I glanced up at the teacher, trying to look perky and filled with suspense, wondering what the famed (for how boring she was) Ms. Isobel planned to say next. I picked at the black lace on my gauntlets, considering pulling out a book and reading under the desk as she droned on, her voice the only sound in the drowsy silence. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I was reading my latest text from Raven, who sat across the room from me, when Rhaely, who sat behind me, poked me in the back with her pencil, causing me to look up. Ms. Isobel had in fact stopped talking, a fact I hadn’t noticed, and was clutching the school phone next to the door, listening intently to whatever the secretary was saying on the other end. She hung up, and said in that droning voice of hers news that—unbeknownst to me—would radically change my world.
“Class, we had a new student. He’s a little late getting into class—“ I snorted. He’d missed half of first period, “—due to the fact that there was some trouble getting him enrolled. Anyway, he’s on his way down here now. Please, take it easy on him. And don’t laugh if the guy gets lost. It happens in a school this big.”
A collective sigh passed through the room as I sat up in my seat. A new guy, huh? Well, couldn’t be too bad. The new kids here were always quiet, dependant on whoever showed them enough mercy to give them a tour of school.
“Think he’s hot?” Raven texted me.
I smirked and replied, “Doesn’t hurt to hope.”
The door swung open, and I glanced up from my phone. He stood in the doorway, looking bored. He had straight black hair, covering one of his piercing green eyes, a lip ring shining where it embraced his frowning lower lip. He looked sad, miserable even, constantly glancing around him like someone was out to get him. Rhaely poked me again. I turned to her. “What?” I hissed.
“Is he hot or what?” she grinned, broadcasting a silent message with her eyes: Hot enough for your standards!
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the front. I glanced over when I felt the new guy’s eyes pass over me. But they had moved to Ms. Isobel by then. “Welcome,” she said, indicating to a seat in the front—right next to mine. He nodded and sat in it. He stared at the wooden tabletop, not even bothering to look up as Ms. Isobel continued her lecture.
Wouldn’t it be my luck that I, the lone wolf, would get my privacy at my very own lab table, at which I always worked alone, and turned in my work alone, and existed alone, taken away when the new kid was assigned the spot at the table next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried not to glare at him as he came down the aisle toward me. He looked at me, his eyes practically stabbing me, and he gave me this look. He looked at me like a horribly disgusting problem, like he wanted to destroy every part of me in that very second, like he was mad at me for breathing. Like he was dying to kill me brutally.
Leave it to me to start a conversation with a guy who could probably very literally stare daggers at someone.