4 three

I woke with a start, sucking in the musty air of the stuffy dorm. I looked around groggily, taking in my surroundings. I was greeted with a frigid, plain wall, its paint chipping off. I groaned and sat up, my joints creaking.

"Ugh… where am I?" I groaned.

"Glad you're awake…" says a voice in front of me.

As my eyes adjusted to the blinding light of the room, I caught sight of a hunched figure. It shuffled over and sat next to me on the bed. It wasn't long before the light revealed it as Anthea.

"Oh! Good morning, Lynn," I mumbled politely.

"Remember our deal," was her curt reply.

I nodded, my eyes shifting to the side, avoiding her gaze.

An air of uncomfortable silence hung in the room before Lynn broke it, saying:

"Breakfast starts soon, I'd hurry if I were you."

I nodded and hurled myself out of bed. Before my fingers could graze the doorknob, Lynn said:

"Are you sure you want to go out in that?" She asked, arching a brow.

I looked down. I was in my lilac pyjamas, dotted with teddy bears. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I clambered into the changing room to groom myself.

I was welcomed by the radiant light beaming throughout the marbled room. It wasn't packed with students, unlike the hectic scene whenever there was any spare time in between lessons. I pulled up a chair at one of the vanity desks, taking a seat as I stared in awe at the ocean of various products in front of me. Cosmetics sprinkled across the table, all arranged meticulously by type. My fingers grazed the neatly placed lipsticks, contemplating whether or not I should.

I nearly choked when I pictured myself caked with cosmetics. It'd be a pity if Erin died of laughing rather than some toying with...

"Oh, Levvers, we don't play with our food,"

I scowled, whirling around from the chair, to see Lynn leaning casually against the wall.

"Was I that easy to read?" I asked, now clawing at my tangled mane.

"Nope," She replied, popping the 'p'. "Quickly, Literature starts soon," and with that, she exited the room, leaving me to my own thoughts.

————

I finally reached the classroom, only to face the teacher with arched brows, hands braced on hips. Oh joy.

"Mind enlightening us on why you are late, Miss Hart?"

My mind reeled at the most valid excuse possible. I quickly deduced the options from being chased by a cheetah which hadn't eaten for three months to waking up late. The cheetah would have been dead from starvation, Levi. I silently chided myself as I looked at the teacher's flaring nostrils. As a straight A student, yes, I can be pretty dim.

The class waited with bated breath, eyes darting from the teacher to me, like watching a heated tennis rally.

Just as I parted my lips to speak, the creak of the door made me whip around. My eyes followed as the boy I met earlier at the office staggered in. Even when he was drenched with water, dripping as I may add, he looked like he was taking a photo shoot for a hair gel advertisement. I could see the anime hearts popping out of the girls' eyes.

"Everyone loves him," A girl whispered, swooning.

No shit, Sherlock.

"Sorry Miss Roveageoisa, I was…" He said, clearing his throat.

Miss Roveageosia patted her clothes, looking flustered. "You may sit down," she said as she smoothed her greying hair. Her glazed eyes momentarily drifted to my retreating figure, before turning beady again. "You too,"

Everyone's gaze followed him,hearing squelching noises when he made it to an empty seat, a trail of water behind him. I'd not be shocked if the girls lick the water off the floor later.

I shuffled towards the only remaining deserted seat next to him, and plopped down.

The lesson droned on, and I couldn't help but look at the details of the boy next to me. By details, I mean the scientific ones.

He favors his left leg, for instance. The limp is so slight that I can't tell when he's walking beside me just now. I see it when he sits down or switches his position up—the slightest hesitation when he bends his knee. It's either a serious injury that never quite healed, or a minor but recent one. A bad fall, maybe.

That's not his only injury. Now and then he winces when he moves his arm. After he does this a couple times, I realize that he must have some sort of wound on his upper arm that stretches painfully whenever he reaches too far up or down.

His face is perfectly symmetrical, a mix of Anglo and Asian, His right eye is slightly darker than his left. At first I thought it might be a trick of the light, but I noticed it again when the sunlight trickled from the gaps of the windows. I wonder how it happened or whether it's something he was born with.

I notice other things too: how nimble his fingers are when they smooth down the wrinkles at his shirt's waist; how he looks at everything as if memorizing them. He squints at the blackboard. He's nearsighted. I know this because I can see the subtle movements in his face, his satisfaction at making something out or his frustration at not being able to.

"How do you do that?" I ask him.

He glances at me, his eyes refocus. "Hmm? Do what?"

"You're nearsighted. How can you see so much of what's around you?"

He seemed surprised for a moment, then impressed. Smiling, he said "You're one perceptive girl,"

"Mr Laurent? What is the answer?" The name of my target jolted me back to the lesson.

My eyes drew to the responding voice.

"As the boats beat restlessly against the shore." The boy next to me recited.

Why is he answering instead of Erin?

Then it dawned into me. He. He is Erin Laurent.