Eliza:
Mondays.. are the worst.
Who invented Monday?
"Watch where you're going Goody," Says the inflated meathead as he bumps into me..intentionally.
Eh, why not humour yourself, you're not the first one to bump into me and I can do this bend-down-pick-up my books dance all morning.
"I saw that guy roughly bump into you. Are you okay?"
He must be new. I take him in in one stride.
Tall, Well structured face, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, nose ring, multiple earrings, white skin hugging shirt, blue jeans, combat boots..
I could go on if his outlook wasn't already screaming bad boy. I bet he must have tattoos somewhere and a monstrous motorcycle could be waiting for him outside.
And if not for the multiple stares of curiosity thrown at him, I would've sworn he falls into place just right at Belvoir high.
But he seems oblivious to the eyes trailing on him.
"Bright as a worker bee, Jack frost," I chirp, trying to hide my disgust as I stuff my books back in my arms, swatting away his hand.
He will soon pick up the trend of bullying Eliza P. Goodwill, so why bother help me?
I leave his husky chuckles behind me as I pick up my stride, trying to shake off the awkward air and feel him catch up to me.
"You're cute you know that? Got a boyfriend? If you don't, I would love to be yours."
Excuse me.
I whip my head at him with the speed of a broken high tension cable.
But he remains unfazed by the incredulous look I'm giving him.
As if to infuriate me further, he shrugs unapologetically.
"I am very straightforward with what I want."
Okay, I've heard many things thrown at me, so many that would fill up an Atlas.
But never 'you're cute, or someone telling me on a normal Monday morning they want to be my boyfriend?'
Who is this alien? Is he high or what?
"Uh, what are you?"
"I think you mean who are you?" He smirks again.
"I know what I said and I meant it in that context because no one answerable to the interrogative adverb 'Who?' ever talks to me."
"Whoa girl, keep this up, I might crash at your feet," His fiery blue eyes glint with something I can't pin down as he curves his bright pink lips into a knowing smirk.
"What do you want? Because I have read enough novels to know what this is about."
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious you don't read young adult fiction," I drag a hand through my messy fiery cherry hair rounding up to my classroom with my sneakers squeaking underfoot and Mr. Alien is still behind me.
I'm not interested in being a real life nerd and bad boy story.
"I'm sorry how may I help you Mr. starting to creep me out by following me around?"
"Why thank you.. if you can point me an empty seat I'll be grateful because I have literature this morning." His fake smile reeks irritation he struggles to hide.
"Oh.." I flit my eyes around the classroom, all the students looking prim and proper like Mrs. Randall's ruler straightened at my nose.
"Why are you always late Eliza, and don't you dare tell me the boogie man took you out on a date last night because I will send you to detention, this has gone far enough."
The class erupts into laughter and I swear I heard Mr. Alien also laughing along.
Well it didn't take him long to fall in line.
But everyone knows Mrs. Randall is all bark and no bite. Just pull the best puppy face and everything will work out.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Randall."Three..two..one.
"Just go to your seat. As much as you would need detention, I hated it myself back in my school days so try to sit yourself up missy. I won't go so easy on you next time."
"Thank you ma'am,"I saunter, no, trip on my way to my seat because some jokester saw it fit to misplace their foot in my path.
I sit down making myself comfortable as I enjoy the show from upfront.
"Welcome, now tell us your name and why you chose Belvoir high as your transfer school." Mrs Randall stares at him pensively with her arms crossed in waiting.
Time to hear Mr. Alien's earth label.
"Hi, my name is Leon Jones, and I chose Belvoir high because my older brother loved this school. As a an ex. Star basketball player, I hope to relieve his left legacy. He meant the world to me."
The entire class is silent as Leon fights to hold his feelings back—lowering his heads with clenched fists.
I am stunned. Right there he looks so vulnerable. Like a wounded tiger.
A blue eyed white haired one.
"Thank you dear, now please take a seat." I see the pity in Mrs Randall's face as she stares after his hunched retreating form.
But hold the phone.
Why is he coming towards me?
Cottontail rabbits, Molly is sick again but that doesn't mean he has the right to just..
"Excuse me, Mrs. Randall?" She turns to me with questioning—hands perched on her narrow hip.
and I stifle the laughter tickling my throat at her bug eyed glasses.
"Can he sit in another chair please, this is Molly's." I gesture to the empty chair and funnily, I am taken aback by the relieved smiles some of my classmates throw at me.
"Well, Molly is not here is she miss Goodwill? Just bear with Leon for the time being."
This is going to be a long period.
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