Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

5: chocolate and French

"Why were you like that?" I asked, peering at Bianca's face as we took our seats in the back row of Literature class.

"Like what?" she asked distractedly, pulling books out of her bag.

"You just cut Noah off." I paused. Bianca wasn't one to behave like that because she didn't like someone.   At least, the Bianca I knew from a couple of years back. "Is everything ok?"

"Right. I cut him off," Bianca said dazedly like she'd just realised, stared down at the Math books on the table she'd pulled out instead.

Then, swearing under her breath, she chucked them back into her bag and pulled out her Literature texts instead.

"It's nothing much. What about you?" Bianca lowered her voice. "I temporarily forgot because of Elliot Lockwood's darn face, but- your families aren't exactly on the best terms, right? And suddenly, you're on the tabloids. I saw the pictures. Are you two really..."

She trailed off, realising that too many pairs of eyes in the class were subtly- some overtly- looking at us. At me.

My throat suddenly felt sandpaper dry. I thought I'd received a lifetime's share of publicity already, three years ago.

"I'll explain later on our way back," I said quietly, pulling out my own texts.

"Actually, do you mind if my friend also joins in the ride back later- ah, there she is."

Carrying a black Yonex tennis racquet bag over her shoulder, a tall, blonde girl walked over to the empty table to Bianca's right.

Bianca had mentioned that the friend she hung out with most in school was a family friend whose mother were also a politician and father was a diplomat back in Germany.

With a healthy, deep sun-tanned skin, a body lined with lean muscles, she very much looked the part of someone serious about tennis.

"Ester, this is Clare." Bianca gestured to me, and then to the other girl. "Clare, this is Ester."

"Ester Koch. Nice to meet you."

In a calm, smooth voice thinly laced with German accent, Ester leaned over and offered a small, faint smile.

She'd mentioned her surname- it'd be strange if I didn't. I returned the smile. "Clare Horan."

Class started before any awkward small talk was necessary.

Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief as the Literature teacher started writing on the whiteboard, giving us something to do within a minute of walking into class.

During the sparse pockets of extra time in Literature, I effortfully conjured a list of topics that I could start small talk with Ester on.

According to Bianca (who knew how socially inept I was and let me know in advance), I would be taking the next class- French- with Ester, while Bianca would go off for her Spanish class.

I'd have to come up with things to say while Ester and I walked to our next class. Ester looked as much of an introvert as I was.

Not politics, because it could make her uncomfortable. Not business affairs, because that would make me uncomfortable.

Ah, I could ask her about tennis. Wasn't the slightest bit interested in sports, but I could ask. If she was a professional player or if she was part of a tennis club in school.

Maybe add that empty but nice remark on how she could teach Bianca and me how to play some time.

"...please finish your reading by the next lesson, or you won't be able to catch up. Any questions? If not, class is dismissed."