Chapter 11 Eleven Years Earlier #2
“Sounds like you have a good dad.”
The way he says it implies that maybe he doesn’t have a dad as great as mine, but instead of dampening the mood, a small smile plays on his lips as he looks over at me.
We continue to discuss Harry Potter for the next half hour (by discuss, I mean I talk at him animatedly about the intricacies of Harry Potter without giving away anything that happens in the last book).
Then we both stop and turn our heads towards the sound of voices coming our way.
They get louder as three guys round the corner of the gym, then they stops as they notice us both sitting here.
I recognise them instantly. Three popular guys from my grade. Daniel Sanders, Jack Green and Aaron Riggs. I usually try to avoid them as much as I can around school, as they’re an arrogant, rowdy group of boys who wolf-whistle loudly every time I walk past them. It’s embarrassing.
In my peripheral vision Zayn tenses, and when I look over at him, his eyes turn steely and his jaw clenches down again as if he’s bracing himself.
“Well, well, well,” says Daniel, tossing a football between his hands. They must be coming from the lower oval where they have training. “What do we have here?”
Jack and Aaron snicker on either side of him as their taunting looks dart between Zayn and I.
“Nothing,” I say lightly, but my heart sinks when I see Zayn start to pack away his books.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Daniel smirks, his leer landing on my packet of chips. “You running a charity, Gianna?” The three of them laugh, and I furrow my brows in confusion.
“Fuck off, Daniel,” Zayn spits, and I look over to see his handsome face twisted in anger.
“What? You begging your class mates for food now, Zayn? Looks like you need a new pair of shoes, too. Gianna might have an old pair lying around for you.”
At this stage, all three of them are howling with laughter.
I look down at Zayn’s shoes, and for the first time I notice that the black soles are tattered and almost coming away from the rest of the shoe.
My gaze travels up over his school pants and shirt, and I see that they carry that faded limpness that usually comes with well-worn, second-hand clothes.
My heart sinks for Zayn, and by the time my eyes meet his, it’s too late to scrub the dawning awareness from my face.
He clocks it and instantly looks away, simultaneously standing up and reaching for his backpack.
“Wait,” I call weakly, but he doesn’t slow his movements. He hikes his bag over his shoulder and doesn’t spare even a glance in my direction as he moves past me first, then past the three laughing assholes, before disappearing around the corner.
“That was horrible, you douchebag!” I say, narrowing my eyes on Daniel.
He tucks the football under his arm and wipes the tears from under his eyes, preening as if he’s the funniest person to ever walk planet Earth.
I knew he could be an asshole, but I’d never experienced such an outright display of bullying before. I feel sick to my stomach.
“Oh, don’t be mad, baby,” he coos, sending Dumb and Dumber into another round of fits. “You’re way too good for him. I did you a favour by scaring him off.”
“If I’m way too good for anyone, Daniel, it’s you!” I spit the words at him as I shove my book into my bag and leave to follow Zayn, but when I turn the corner around the gym, he’s gone.
I keep an eye out for Zayn the next day at school. When lunchtime arrives and I still haven’t laid eyes on him, I begin to wonder if he was just a figment of my imagination. I decide to recruit my best friend Anna to the case.
“Zayn, you say?” she asks as she frowns down at her Caesar salad. “I don’t think there is a Zayn in our year.” She picks up her plastic fork and uses it to flick all the croutons out of her salad and onto the grass, where the pigeons start gathering around us to pick them up.
“That’s what I thought! But I met him yesterday after school. Said he’s in my physics class.”
I bite into my ham and cheese sandwich, my eyes scanning the grassed courtyard for any signs of messy black hair amongst the sea of students sitting around us eating their lunch, but come up short once again.
“Well, when do you have physics again?” she asks, finally digging into her salad now that all signs of carbs have been removed.
“Not until tomorrow.” I sigh. I’d already thought of that.
“Well that’s not too long to wait,” she says thoughtfully, munching on her lettuce. “Actually, there is a gorgeous black-haired boy in my math class, but I’m pretty sure his name is Metal.”
“He sits behind us, and his name is Steele,” I say, rolling my eyes with a grin.
Anna giggles and flicks her honey brown braid over her shoulder. “So not him, then.”
“No. Not him, Anna.”
I’m practically buzzing with excitement by the time recess finishes the next day, and I arrive at my physics class two minutes before the bell, earlier than I’ve ever arrived to class before.
I push the door open with trembling fingers, urging the butterflies in my tummy to simmer down for a moment before they make me take flight, but they don’t listen to me in the slightest. My plan is to be the first one to arrive so I can watch every student as they enter, instead of being one of the last to rush in and being forced to take the only seat that’s ever available at the front of the class.
Mr Robson, who’s already seated behind his desk when I enter, is a serial spitter and I always have to push my chair all the way back to make sure I don’t get a spray during his lectures.
So gross. Yet, me being me, I still never get here early enough to avoid it, always needing to milk every last second out of recess.
After nodding hello to a surprised Mr Robson, I turn to scope the seating layout to choose my ideal location for student watching when I spot him.
All the way in the back corner, sitting at the farthest desk with his head down, is Zayn.
My heart flips and blood rushes in my ears as I clench my books tighter to my chest and slowly move towards him.
He looks so attractive sitting there, poring over his book.
Mixed with the giddiness that’s skittering over my skin is a wave of relief.
Since I met Zayn, I’ve been worried that I’m some asshole that may have subconsciously overlooked him because of his shabby clothes, but now I know that I didn’t notice Zayn because he makes himself invisible.
I never would have seen him skulking around in the dark corners of the classroom.
He doesn’t notice me until I pull out the chair next to him.
“Is this seat taken?”
His head snaps up and his dark eyes find mine. Shock registers on his face before he masks it quickly and turns back to his book.
“No.”
I pull the chair out and plonk my books on top of the desk, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest as I take a seat next to him.
My bare arm accidentally grazes against his.
He responds by shifting slightly away from me and continuing to read his book.
By now other students have started to trickle in and I sit quietly, waiting for Mr Robson to start the class, hyperaware of Zayn’s every movement beside me.
Thirty minutes into class, after one lecture and a thousand stolen glances from the corner of my eye to the beautiful, sullen boy sitting next to me, we’re asked to pair off and complete the task sheet in our workbooks.
“Partner?” I turn to ask Zayn.
He eyes me warily before answering, “Okay.”
The red-haired guy with thin glasses sitting in front of us, the only one who greeted Zayn when he walked in the classroom, turns to Zayn now and asks if he wants to partner up.
“I’m with her,” Zayn responds, giving a small nod in my direction. The red-head turns to me with round eyes. “W -with Gianna?”
I blink, shocked that this guy knows my name, yet I’m sure I’ve never even seen him around the school before. This seems to be becoming a common occurrence for me.
“Apparently,” Zayn responds.
Red-head slowly turns back to the front of the class and I crack open my text book as Zayn does the same.
“What’s his name?” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth.
Zayn glances at me, and I swear there’s mischief dancing in his dark eyes.
“Percy.”
My hands fly to my mouth as I stifle back a giggle. Zayn studies my reaction with a quirked brow, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s fighting back his own amusement.
“You’re messing with me right?” My voice comes out as a muffled whisper from behind my fingers. “As in Weasley?”
“Like Weasley, yes.” His eyes dance over my face as my giggles erupt, and more than a few heads turn in our direction while I try to calm myself down by thinking of things that are completely unfunny, unlike the nerdy red-head who’s name is Percy.
Electromagnetic radiation. Infrared radiation. Thermal radiation.
Zayn, who also seems to notice the attention, sinks deeper into his chair as my giggles slowly subside and I discreetly wipe the tears from my eyes. At least I’ll never forget Zayn’s friend’s name.
We refocus on the task at hand and there’s an awkward moment when I realise the page we need has been ripped out of Zayn’s second-hand text-book. I just slide mine between us and ask him if he knows what electromagnetic radiation is.
We discuss the questions, and as I listen to Zayn speak it’s glaringly obvious that he’s very intelligent. My stomach stays in a constant state of wild fluttering, and it isn’t until class is nearly finished that I work up the courage to ask him about this afternoon.
“Will you be at the gazebo after school?”
I finish writing my sentence with hyper focus as I wait anxiously for a response.
“I’m not sure.”
His tanned forearm flexes against the white desk as he writes his latest answer on the page.