19
I I hadn’t heard from my stalker for three days, but there were moments when I felt him nearby, watching from afar and in disguise, like me. He and I had more in common than he knew. It’s an odd feeling when you start to get used to his presence, then the emptiness when you realize he’s not around. He hasn’t messaged me since he broke into my room, and I wondered why he’s so quiet. But out of inflated pride, I refused to contact him. Instead, knowing he was watching, I went about my day with a secret smile.
It took me twenty minutes to travel by foot to my first class, which I was so excited about. Part of the class will be marine biology theory, and the other part will be practical, such as studying sea creatures kept in an aquarium.
There were about fifty students in this class, and as I was shoved against the wall and squeezed between the crowd as we entered the class, I tried to smile and strike up a conversation but was ignored. Annika wanted to scream, “Hey, I said hello to you. Please acknowledge me. Asshole.”
But good ol’ Riley Laws just took it, like she always did. She’d bite her tongue and allowed the crowd to shove her about until she was the last one inside, and the only seat available was next to a scruffy guy with a pungent, sickly body odor. But at least he said ‘hi’ when I sat down.
Trembling in anticipation, the professor started the class by outlining our course material, including a week-long sea trip to study coral and other small living organisms. My excitement hit peak nerdy high as he talked about our upcoming adventures with a heavy workload that I’ll have to balance out with my new job.
With trembling fingers, I took notes, but my enthusiasm fizzled further into the term's course material and curriculum requirements. It seemed endless, but that was the reality of education.
“What the fuck?” the guy next to me grunted, and I assumed he was as aghast at the workload as I was. But when I glanced up at him, he wasn’t looking at the professor; he was frowning at something out the window.
We’re on the ground floor, and outside the window is a courtyard closed off by classrooms with mowed grass and a picnic table. Leaning casually against the classroom opposite was a guy dressed head to toe in black and wearing a Scream mask. His legs were crossed at the ankles, his hands snug in his sweatpants’ pockets, and his shoulders broad under a black hoodie.
My stalker.
I suppressed a smile, raised my hand, and shot him a small wave. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was smiling.
“Do you know him?” the guy beside me asked.
“Ah, not really. He likes to run about the place, scaring people,” I explained, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.
The guy grunted and turned back to face the front of the classroom. “You don’t seem that scared.”
“No,” I sighed, glancing at the professor when he cleared his throat loudly. “I’m not.”
It was several seconds later before I looked back at him and was unsurprised that he had disappeared. It was a feeling I got when he was near and an equally distinctive feeling when he was gone again.
The class ended, and once again, I had to maneuver through a crowd of students to reach the door. My next class, the Principals of Biodiversity, was in the same school but on the other side of the block, and I had to go a long way to get there. When I reached the glass double door that led outside into the courtyard where the masked man was, a tall figure reached over my head and opened the door for me. I looked up with a smile to thank him and was floored at how handsome he was.
Chiseled cheekbones, cocoa hair, swept back, twinkling green eyes, clean shaven and tall, definitely over six foot, and oh my... he smelt good.
“Tha…” the word caught in my throat, and I coughed before finishing, “you.”
His dark eyebrows dropped low over narrowed eyes, peering at me curiously. “Petra?”
“Huh?” my cheeks burned. “Um…no.”
I managed to slip away into the courtyard, but he followed me. “From Savile?”
My feet froze, and I glanced back at him, unsure as to what I should say because either way, I was screwed. “Um…”
“I’m the manager there,” he pointed out.
“Oh, really?” my heart beat rapidly, whisking my breath away. “Um…I don’t know if you’ve got the right person.” Stupid. Why did I just say that? Stupid, stupid.
“Right,” he said doubtfully in that smooth voice, just as a group of students surrounded me and headed for the entrance. I took the opportunity to flee, and I didn’t look back until I was in the safety of my classroom, where I could calm my fluttering heart.
What a mess! What’s going to happen if he saw me at Savile? I’d have to tell him the truth as to why I denied being Petra. Wait. How did he know who I was? I only spoke to Betty. Okay, calm your shit down and focus on the class.
This was another large class. The classes are often large at the beginning of the term before students start to drop out, and some of the students were also in my marine ecology class, so perhaps they would make good study mates. Oh my gosh…he was handsome, like a model on GQ magazine.
In that short interlude, I couldn’t find a single flaw. No zit scar. No hair out of place. No scar. Nothing. How could I possibly be in the presence of a man so gorgeous without making a dick out of myself?
This class was on the first floor, and I found an empty seat by the window to spot my stalker from afar. I was staring out the window when the class started. This tutor also reviewed our curriculum for the term, and by the time the hour was up, I was feeling weighed down with stress.
I had no more classes until midafternoon, so I dragged myself to the Science Library to review my course material and work out a study schedule between my work shifts. I found a table in the marine biology section because bright photographs of schools of fish were a spa to my soul.
Whenever I opened a book and tried to read, I thought of that handsome man, the Savile Manager, who I hope won’t be there tonight. Whenever someone walked past my table, I thought of my stalker weirdo in a mask.
Someone coughed nearby, and I jumped in fright. A student took a book out of the opposite shelf, and I flinched. A girl broke into laughter, and my heart flew out of my chest.
Focus. Focus on study material. I thought once I started class, I’d shove the unimportant stuff to the back of my mind, but they’re festering in my brain like an infectious wound.
Taking a deep breath, I honed every ounce of concentration onto the marine biology assignment due in three weeks, even though we hadn’t started the course material yet.
I managed to read two pages of Marine Biology: An Ecological Approach before I sensed someone standing over me and startled in fright again. Jeez, my heart was getting a workout today.
“Cheetos?”
Her eyes flicked about behind those glasses, dithering as if searching for the right words to say to me. There was intense silence between us, and I opened my mouth to say something when she blurted, “I can’t go to class.” It seemed more like a confession, as if she was holding on to that all day, and it needed to come out in a gush.
“Oh? Why?” I asked curiously as she walked to the chair on the opposite side of the table and lay her hand on the back.
She swallowed and glanced about the library, examining anyone who moved before answering, “I can’t be in a room with people sitting so close to me. I just can’t…” The color ran from her face.
“Yeah, I understand what you mean. I sat beside a guy with bad body odor earlier, but he seemed nice, and I endured.” I smiled, but she didn’t smile back; instead, my comment seemed to go over the top of her.
“I need a study buddy,” she exclaimed, swallowing as if stressed. “Because I can’t attend class so…”
“Right,” still slightly confused. “So, what classes are you ta-”
“Biodiversity,” she cut in, dragging the chair out a couple of inches before stalling. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“Oh, by all means…” she still had no idea what her name was, and she wasn’t catching the hint that I wanted her to fill me in. No chance, it seemed, as she took her backpack off, dumped it on the table, opened the zipper, and pulled out a stack of books.
Once she was seated and flipping through the course material, I asked, “You don’t like being in a crowded room?”
She made a face as her brow furrowed, still avoiding my eye, which seemed to be her vibe. I didn’t mind. The more she opened up to reveal her weirdness, the more I liked her. “I’d rather be drenched in gasoline and set alight.”
I suppressed a smile because she might misinterpret me laughing at her when it was her dark sense of humor I enjoyed. “Yep. I get it. But…so you won’t go to any class?”
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Okay, sure, so…” I shuffled my books and folder to find the Biodiversity course material. “So the tutor only went over the curriculum, and we won’t start…hang on.” I faltered when a thought occurred to me. “How did you know I was in the Biodiversity class.”
She fiddled with the corners of the pages before smoothing them over. She obviously had a dogear phobia, like me. Oh god, she’s my twin. Did my mom split us up when we were kids? No. That’s ridiculous.
Wait. I’m in disguise. Glasses, green contact lenses, and brown hair were a disguise. I had to keep reminding myself of this. Cheetos was similar to Riley the Fake, not Annika the Real.
“I went intending to go in, but…” she shook her head and made a face as if she had struck a broken sewage pipe.
“Too many people?” I assumed.
“Yeah, and I…also hate it when a teacher asks me something in front of the class…” she found it hard to confess this as if her extreme shyness was something to be ashamed of. “Yeah, I can’t speak in front of an audience or more than one person, really.”
“I know it won’t help, but I remember someone close to me once saying that…” I swallowed back the rising emotion because Mr. Kaiser said it to me, and I never forgot it. “Don’t hide your light under a bushel.”
Her eyes flicked about behind those large glasses, and I couldn’t tell if she was reflecting on those wise words. Then she screwed her face up and asked. “What’s a bushel?”
“Um…I always thought it was an old word for bush. Well, that’s how I interpreted it. You know, don’t hide your good qualities from other people. Let them see how wonderful you are,” I explained as best I could, but judging by the expression on her face, she wasn’t impressed.
She scrolled on it briefly before saying, “Bushel is a measure of capacity equal to 64 US pints (equivalent to 35.2 liters ), used for dry goods.”
“Is it?” I exclaimed, confused. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“That’s random and perplexing,” I replied. “Made more sense if it was a flowering bush or shrub.”
She shrugged. “I guess the moral behind the meaning is the same.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, and we fell quiet again.
That awkward silence of two people who were inept at small talk, even though my head was stuffed to the brim with thoughts of my stalker and the excruciatingly handsome manager of Savile who recognized me as Petra Black.