He walks past me and takes an empty seat near the back of the room, I can’t see him from my position on the 3rd row and I shift uncomfortably, looking over my shoulder to find him looking at me. +
As soon as the bell rings I jump out of my seat, racing to leave the room. I’m right outside my art room when I hear him call my name. I turn to see him cutting through the crowds towards me before I slip into the classroom and find my seat. He opens the door to the room, “Amber?”
My art teacher Miss Roth sees him at the door, “I’m sorry but who are you and why are you interrupting my lesson?”
He clears his throat, “Um, Jake Fletcher, miss, I’m new.”
“And at your old school did students just come into random classrooms shouting?”
“Then I don’t see why you would do it here. Do you know where your next lesson is?”
“Then I suggest you begin to make your way there before you’re late.”
“Please miss, I just really need to speak to Amber.” He looks desperate as he pleads with her.
“Well then you can speak with her at break time, off you go.” She walks forward and closes the door on him. “Well,” she begins, turning back to the class, “carry on with the work we started last lesson and I’ll rotate. Call me over if you need anything.”
I get my book out of my bag and start collecting paint and brushes from around the classroom, and when I make it back to my desk, Miss Roth is stood flicking through my book. “This is beautiful work, Amber.”
She sighs, closing the book. “So, are you alright? You look a little shaken after the encounter with Mr Fletcher.”
I give her a tight smile, “I’m fine.”
She nods. “Good.” She says, walking away and I take a deep breath.
I walk out of class an hour later with the intent of finding my friends as soon as possible.
“Guys,” I plant my hands firmly on the table in front of me. “Jakes here.” +
“I swear to God, Amber.” Alex begins, obviously wanting me to have moved on by now. “If you’re going to give us some speech about how you keep seeing him everywhere I’ll puke.”
Mary lightly slapped Alex on the shoulder, unsurprised yet unapproving of her usual blunt remarks.
“Ams,” Lisa says, turning to me, and without even giving me a chance to explain the situation, “What Alex means is… maybe you should focus on the new boy instead?”
I sigh, slumping into the chair and thumping my head into the metal table. I start to tell them the situation, but my words are muffled beyond recognition by the cold surface against my face.
“Ams, babe. We can’t hear you.” Mary smiles.
I groan louder, lifting my head from the table reluctantly.
“Jake is the new guy. He’s here.”
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