No else in class so much as flinched when I fell out of my chair. For which I was grateful. I didn't want to be noticed for something as embarrassing as that. But I was surprised: I'm sure it had been a few months since anyone so much a said my name. Especially not to my face like that. My long brown hair was as frazzled by the fall as I was. I was still in shock as I pulled myself off of the floor. My words came out in a confused, nonsensical stutter.
The "uh, um, huh" kind.
The boy sitting next to me looked appropriately concerned, "Ophelia? Where's your textbook?"
I zipped my lips and in bewilderment. The boy who sat next to me in class was obnoxiously pretty. How had I never noticed him before? He had a delicate face, with smooth pale skin and bright green eyes. Short blonde hair was cut to frame his face, the tips of which were dyed sakura pink. If not for the fact I had heard him, I might have mistaken him for a girl. An obnoxiously pretty girl at that.
Actually, maybe the best way to describe him was "cute."
His clothes were what made him look so adorable. What could have been very simple attire, a white t-shirt and blue jeans, was completely spoiled by his green coat. There were pink bows pinned to the front and a layer of ruffled pink fabric sewn to the bottom rim. I'm sure the pink ruffles would almost touch the ground when he stood up. The hoodie was tied closed with a pink scarf, which made the overall ensemble look something like a Japanese school uniform. Though the alternations were professionally made, it was obvious that he had customized this trench coat to suit his tastes. He looked like a porcelain doll.
My mouth hung open. I'll admit that I spaced out and stared at him for a bit too long. I felt both jealous of his charm and blessed to see it.
He didn't comment on my staring, instead repeating his concern for the third time, "Are you going to be okay? You'll be in a lot of trouble if the teacher calls on you."
I snapped out of my daze and averted my eyes shyly. I hadn't spoken to anyone in a really long time. On top of that, my first conversation was with a boy who was ten times prettier than me.
"Oh um, I'll be fine." I tried to sound confident, even boasting, "The teacher doesn't really notice me anyway. I could fall asleep in class and I bet she'd never care."
He puzzled at me. Then he lifted his textbook from his own desk and held it out to me. "Here, you can borrow mine."
"No way." I said instinctively as I shoved the book back, "I can't take your book. Then you won't be able to keep up in class."
"I'll be fine, actually. I have a photographic memory." He explained, "I read the material last night, so I don't need a book."
I couldn't believe it. Photographic memories are both "way too good to be true," and "definitely unfair." High school tests are all about memorizing facts. Someone who could instantly memorize anything that he read would have an unfair advantage. I didn't find it fair, so I reacted like a jealous child. I glared at him and decided to be difficult.
"I think you're lying." I snapped.
He ignored my bad attitude with a soft chuckle. Then he tapped the book cover once, before tapping the side of his forehead, "Then keep an eye on me in class, okay? Our teachers love to try to test me."
His teasing wink felt like a challenge.A challenge that I accepted.
"Fine." I said. For someone who rarely gets to talk to people, I am disgustingly competitive. I still don't know what I was trying to prove with our little bet. Maybe I really didn't believe his claim, or maybe I was just being petty.
Honestly, I was most likely being petty. I did say my competitive nature is disgusting.
The school bell rang seconds later, signaling that class was about to begin. Our teacher walked into the class and announced the reading material for the day. I flipped open the borrowed textbook, tracking the lesson with unnecessary precision. First period is literature class for me, so most of the time we read passages and then dissect them like animals.
Halfway through the class, the teacher began calling on students to read passages aloud. Usually she's trying to catch people who aren't paying attention and embarrass them. I don't understand how anyone can fall asleep in literature class. It's really fun.
I had been so invested in the lesson that I forgot our bet. It wasn't until I heard the scraping of his chair and saw him stand at his desk that I remembered the boy at all. Just as he had said, our teacher had spotted him without his textbook and called him out. Also like he said, he recited the required passage from memory. Flawlessly. Word for word, as if the book was right in front of him.
I was stunned. After he recited two paragraphs, I decided that he must have been cheating. To ensure that he wasn't sneaking peeks at the book on my desk, I closed it partway and stuck my face between the two open halves. Even with those precautions in place, that boy recited the last few paragraphs flawlessly. I must have looked ridiculous. When I glanced at his face, I could see he was restraining a laugh.
That was how I met my new best friend. I complain a lot, but I don't regret a second of it. I can't imagine ever truly hating him. Even if I find proof that he's the one who ruined my life.