Chapter Two

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As soon as I step foot through the doors of the school an arm is draped around my shoulders, only slightly scaring me. I peer over to see none other than Drea. Her black nail polish matches her dark aesthetic. Ripped panty-hose is worn under black denim shorts and a baggy black sweatshirt with grey stripes running horizontally. Her short black pixie cut suits her lanky look perfectly. I can't stop myself from staring at the way her hair shapes her face perfectly.

Her headphones blast a metal song I can only assume would make my brain bleed. She's the whole package for sure.

"School was lonely without you yesterday." I comment, adjusting my hair under her arm so she's not pulling on my longer-styled brown strands.

"I know, these stones are kicking my ass. Doc said I might have to get my tonsils removed." She rolls her eyes and I grin at the gesture.

"Oh wow, exactly what I told you last year. Wild, I never would've assumed this to be the solution to our long-lived tonsil problem." I mock her as dramatically as I can muster.

"Shut the fuck up." She says and gives me a playful smile, "I've got to get to the library, I have a reputation to uphold."

The casual tone of her voice doesn't fool me, I know this is the highlight of her day. It's probably the only reason she comes to school.

It's my turn for an eyeroll. As long as her bad karma doesn't come back to bite me, she can steal as much lunch money from the nerdy clique to her hearts content.

We both have our shameful hobbies.

Speaking of hobbies, mine is waiting for me in his classroom. I try not to look too happy while I make my way down the hall, sparing a last glance at Drea's retreating form.

Today's Thursday, which means it's tutor day. You'd think waking up at 5am to get to school early would deter some students from making it in, but the room is as packed as it is every Thursday morning. Various perfumes can be smelled upon entrance and I already know what to expect. Every single person in this room is, in fact, visibly attracted to Mr. Halloway.

I can't blame them, I mean, I'm here aren't I?

I walk directly to his desk and lay down my essay. I'd finished my final draft earlier this morning. I'm not a try hard by nature, but I don't mind being a teachers pet on this occasion.

"I was hoping you could look over my essay and see if you had any tips for me." I say, holding my paper out. His body jolts, seemingly not expecting the sudden encounter. I'm surprised my noisy heels hadn't signaled him of my presence.

I snicker, hoping he doesn't notice my unfiltered amusement. By the way his mouth twitches and eyes scan my face, I can only assume he does.

He glances at our audience, a few girls taking small peeks up, but they all quickly direct their line of sight elsewhere.

I clear my throat and lean forward.

He turns his gaze back to me, "Absolutely. Please take a seat."

I sit down in the aide chair directly next to his desk while he reads over the pages I surrendered.

"You know this isn't due until next Friday?" He questions, with a signature arched brow.

"Yes, I just felt really motivated last night." I say, feigning a look of innocence in hopes of hiding the smile that's begging to crawl its way onto my face. My resistance never stood a chance and I accept defeat with a small tilt to the corner of my mouth.

"Motivated, huh?" He hums, returning his focus back to my written words.

I study his face closely, taking note of every facial twitch that's visible to the eye. His expression remains neutral and I begin to worry that perhaps my essay wasn't as impressive as I'd thought.

I don't know what else to expect that'd show any interest in what I've written but I receive nothing until he finishes and puts the pages down.

"That was exceptional." He comments, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the desk. "You have a very impressive vocabulary, the only thing I could think to mention is your hook, it would be a good idea to avoid all these filler words here."

I lean over his desk to see where he's pointing, the very beginning of my essay. I did stretch my introduction out and maybe got into too much detail with the tie to my topic.

I can't help but notice how close he is from my position, I even catch a whiff of his shampoo or faint cologne or something. I'm hesitant to sit back into my chair, wanting nothing more than to identify the smell, but I lean back nonetheless.

"Okay, I'll get that to you by the end of the day." I tell him with a smile and snatch my papers back up.

Upon turning around, I'd almost forgotten we had an audience and the beady eyes of several girls is enough to make me feel small.

However, I make sure to meet Mr. Halloway's own eyes and give him a small wave before turning and clicking my heels out of the classroom.

It's a bit early but I still make my way to first period, knowing Mrs. Graton practically lives here. Not once have I seen her leave this school, and I spend plenty of afterhours on campus. Her room is always open and welcoming. A safe haven for those of whom with little interest in school before the bell rings.

It looks like I'm not the only one who had the same thought, a couple kids are scatter seated and distracted by either a book or their phone. I, on the other hand, pull out my familiar notebook dedicated to Mr. Halloway, along with the range of colored pens.

The amount of hearts on each and every page I flip through makes me feel like I should be ashamed. But I'm not.

I feel every single heart in this book.

Small sketches of Mr. Halloway do send a ping of shame through me, though. Not shame, but embarassment. Perhaps both. Either way, I don't know what I'd do if someone found them, it'd be humiliating.

I ponder ripping them out and trashing them but decide against it. It took me entire class periods to finish these, I can't just throw them out. Plus, I have something to ogle when he's not around.

10 minutes into another heart related doodle and the bell rings. This is followed by dozens of students trickling into the room and filling up empty space.

I sigh, with only one class of the day in mind.

Mr. Halloway's PetDär berättelser lever. Upptäck nu