Part one: Naïve Clocks, I've discovered are messengers of evil, not evil in themselves, but wily and disobedient. It proves this as the long black hand of the analog clock tick too slowly. Perhaps the clock is off, or perhaps my devious mind has discovered how to slow time. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. That option seems the most likely. But still, it ticks, and ticks, and it doesn't hit the twelve for hours. Felix the dill hole, sitting to my left, is hitting on that creepy British chick who is in desperate need of a hamburger two seats away. I can hear her disgust from here. Vivian V. the quiet girl that looks like a China doll, is biting her lip, her glasses hanging tentatively on the bridge of her nose. She has always been in the same boat as I, quiet and invisible. As I'm thinking that the clock has a conspiracy with the time space continuum, her tentative voice asks me "Do you have a pencil I can borrow, Ethan?" I'm quiet, wondering how she knows my name. I hand her the pencil sitting right in front of me without a word. She takes it from my hand, and I can feel her fingers grasp it. The tips of my fingers meet hers. There are no sparks, no shock with our touch, the ones that always happen in the books. The girl in front of me turns around. I think her name is Sydney. "When does class end?" she moaned into my ear. Her wet, heavy breath annoyed me. "Ten minutes." I whisper, gritting my teeth, hoping she won't try to start a conversation. To my relief, she turns around and starts chatting to Ezreal Winters, the name you can't forget, because girls won't allow it. I don't see the attraction. I hear the rustle of paper, as something is slid underneath my hand. Vivian inconspicuously slides my pencil onto the holder on the front of my desk. I take the note and slide it into my pocket, wondering what it was. I find that you can usually tell what it is based on the personality of the person, but this one is a mystery. The teacher, who sits there quietly, grading papers, raises an eyebrow at one. I assume it's probably mine. We were told to write a report on something we enjoyed about this year, a descriptive piece. I know, as her lips form a smile, that she relates to what I said. I wrote, of course, about art class. I know very well how to catch this teacher's attention, like I do all teachers. She, specifically is very close to the art teacher. Other teachers gossip about how they're always together. It's just the way it works. They all have a weakness, all have something they like better than others. So while many chose her class, I chose something she herself enjoyed. So, like many thing, teachers just needed to be observed to be picked inside out. ----------------------------------------------
That's part of the attraction .-. They like more antagonistic, stoic type dudes Bad guys attract girls :3