"I'm Alec," he says. His fingers slow their tempo and I realise it must be a coping mechanism of some kind.
"Laney.” I lie for the second time today. “Nice to meet you, Alec." I manage to get out before a scrunched up ball of paper hits me in the back of the head.
Clearly, there's something wrapped in it because it hurts like hell. Some assholes cackle behind me.
I grit my teeth and ignore it, refusing to meet Alec's eyes.
No friends, I remind myself. It's not worth the pain when you leave.
My eyes fly up when a chair screeches across the floor. I turn around and see Alec shove the ball of paper into a footballer's chest, making him stumble back a step.
"I think this belongs to you," Alec says, deathly quiet.
The footballer scoffs weakly and looks around at his mates that clearly don't want to tangle with a six-footed something, tightly packed threat. They all look away, leaving him with Alec.
Alec says something else that I don't catch when I turn, putting my back to them.
He pulls out his chair to sit back down and grabs a notebook and pencil case from his bag on the chair beside him.
I don't look up. Not even when he starts silently tapping a fast rhythm into the table again.
Mrs Ewelyn draws our attention to the whiteboard where she's written the due dates for our written and creative assessments.
Alec's eyes land on mine a few times but I never allow them to entangle.
We're given time to pick on an idea for our artwork or start working on it. I decide to spend my spare time doing nothing.
I put my head into my hand and doodle with my right into my notebook.
A piece of paper is slid over to me.
Are you okay?Is written in small, neat cursive letters.
I stare at it for a few seconds.
My pencil shakes as I press it to the piece of paper, willing an answer to emerge.
Fine,I eventually write. It's chicken scratch compared to Alec's perfectly calligraphed letters. I push the piece of paper back to him.
I'm only doodling for a few seconds before another note appears.
Does this happen often?
My eyes involuntarily move up to meet his. There's a sadness in them that tells me he already knows the answer. Eventually, my eyes move back down and I write my response.
Thank you,that is all I write before I push it back. Before I can retract my hand back, Alec rests his hand on mine in comfort. I suck in a short breath.
It's only there for a short moment before he removes his hand, allowing me to pull my hand back.
Tears fill my eyes and I hastily blink them away.
Do not cry in the middle of class. Do not show them weakness.
His fingers go back to that upbeat tempo they were drumming into the table.
You won't need to worry about them again,is written slightly messier this time on the other side of the last note.
We exchange a few more notes.
