camena
He sat down, meeting my eye level. "You understand, don't you?" he said, the menacing tone polite and implied.
"I understand perfectly," I said with my signature smile. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, but I would like to go. Tell my sister I said hello." I stood up and left, not bothering to bid goodbye.
"Tickets!" the ticket checker shouted.
"Nervous?" James asked.
"Of course not," I answered, despite the butterflies in my stomach. "We're going to school."
"It's a school for Pagans," Rachel added. "It's not like middle school."
"Come on, ladies, move it!" Mr. Wyse, the gym teacher, shouted into the megaphone.
"Christ, he's such a dick," James muttered.
"Don't like being his bitch, James?" Michael teased.
"Yeah, well let's just say I don't think I'll have to tolerate him much longer." James pictured the fear in Mr. Wyse's eyes as James stood over him, watching his last few moments. "It would be unfortunate if something should happen to him this evening."
I heard the snap of sticks behind me. I whipped around in fear. God. It's John. He smiled.
"I didn't scare you, did I?"
"John, there's someone in the wood-" Bang.
He fell to the floor, blood pouring from his head. The last thing I remember is the rush of the world as I fell to the floor, and a blurred silhouette hovering over my unconscious body.
She lit her cigarette. I looked away. I couldn't watch. I knew why she was smoking. She only did when she was upset. This time, it was my fault, despite my promise to never hurt her again.
He bowed slowly after their "hello," receiving a small curtsey in return. He stole a glance at her face. She smiled softly, he smiled back. He stood again and wondered if they could ever overcome the separation of class.
writing since 2011 · 9 entries · 9 days shown up
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