• Chapter Four
    Wait, Repeat That Please?


    Genevieve's hand was shaking all class. She could barely draw a thing. Luckily today was more of those boring book-work days. Every now and then she would glance over at Aaron, and everytime he glanced back, she would blush and get back to her work. She could swear a time or two she heard him snicker.

    "Glad you think it's funny," she grumbled under her breath. Finally, the bell of the end of the period rang. She was concentrating so hard on her work that the shrill scream of the bell made her jump out of her skin with a small yelp of start. Laughs from her classmates came a dime a dozen and she actually felt embarrassed. She grabbed her bag and dashed out of the room.

    Her next class was math. She swore that her math teacher had it out for her acedemic demise. She opened her bad and grabbed her pencil then she reached for her sketchbook, but her hands gathered nothing.

    "Not... Happening..." she groaned to herself, running her fingers angrily through the back of her hair. She was so flustered in the art room, she forgot to grab her sketchbook. She stormed off, fuming silently.

    "Looks like I'll actually have to pay attention this class," she grumbled under her breath, hoping her teacher wouldn't hear her. He already doesn't like her. No need to beat a dead, boring horse.

    By the time the end-of-period bell rang, Genevieve thought she was going to die. An entire hour and a half of math with no doodling to avert her attention from the tedious drollness of math class. She had lunch next, so no one would really care if she was late. She jogged back into the art room and looked all around for her sketchbook. Searching high and low for her beloved doodle book were all for nothing, it had disappeared. She asked the teacher if she had seen it, but she hadn't.

    "My life... is officially... over," she muttered to herself. She walked to the cafeteria and bought a lunch she knew she wouldn't eat. The knot in her stomach was wound far too tight for her to do anything beside sit in the solitude she was far too accustomed to. She stared blankly out of the window when she heard a loud "FLOP!" next to her.

    She looked over and there was her sketchbook! Genevieve looked up with relief only to have her guts clench up again.

    "Aaron..." she whispered. "W-why do you have my sketchbook?!" she demanded getting red in the face.

    "Chill little rabbit," he laughed, "You left it in the art room and I thought you'd want it back. A simple thank you would suffice." There was his sarcastic tone again. It got on her nerves slightly.

    "Thank you!" she blurted out.

    "Can I join you?" he asked after a deep chuckle. Her heart jumped at his laugh.

    She quickly shoved the book in her bag and stuttered, "S-sure."

    This bashful attitude was so unlike her. What was it about this stranger of three hours ago make her do and say things she has never done before?

    He sat down and clacked down his tray. "Aren't you going to eat?"

    Genevieve's stomach, at the exactly wrong time made a large and very unladylike growl. She blushed ferociously and then they both started laughing. Hers was more out of embarrassment...