"Why do you always avoid my questions?"
"I'm not, it's just that there's nothing to say. Who would ever want to date someone they can't even talk to? It's not rocket science. My eyes are weird, and people get tired of me eventually. There's your on...
^ this serves to differentiate when Dallas is writing/signing from Mathias, who speaks in italics. You've probably seen this method quite a bit in other texting stories, so carry on anyway.
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DALLAS DIDN'T WANTTO BE THERE.
As soon as the door swung open and she entered, the classroom that was just filled with murmurs and giggles fell to a low hush, all eyes bolting to see if Mr. Troublefield had entered. When they noticed Dallas, a few students went back to talking to their friends, while Dallas could feel over twenty eyes tagged to her back as she easily sauntered across the front of the classroom, evading everyone's curious and shocked looks as she tried to find a desk.
Most of the students sat to the back, clumped into groups of twos and threes, leaving little room for anyone else favoring the back. The middle seats were all occupied except the one 'Out of use' desk stacked to the corner, and the front was a little more spacious, occupied by only three students out of the six desks. Dallas allowed a small frown to tug her lip as she approached the desk at the front that would be furthest from the teacher's table. She dropped her handbag to the desk and pulled the wooden chair out, sitting, waiting.
The minutes ticked by. The chatter and occasional collective squeals exuding from the students in the classroom continued to edge higher and higher until Dallas had difficulty focusing on the Instagram page she scrolled through. However, checking the time only drew her to the realization that she'd only been there for less than five minutes. Eyes bored into the back of her head and side of her face, following her every move. No one approached her. The whole situation was almost comical to Dallas at that point.
Feeling ridiculously out of place there in the crampy, hot classroom, Dallas regretted not choosing to hang out with Sebastian and their friends instead. To pass the time, she let her eyes idly roam the cluttered walls next to the blackboard, observing the birthday list for long-gone students and posters with motivational quotes. She impatiently tapped her fingers on her wooden desk and apprehensively eyed the door she last entered.
When ten minutes swung by, Dallas's phone buzzed with a text. The screen flickered to life and she looked to see who it was from as the notification briefly slid down on her lock screen.
1 new message from Sebastian.
Dallas dove from the phone, her long nails scraping the top of the desk in her haste.
Seb: where are u?
Rolling her eyes, she immediately responded:
Dallas: class. The teacher isn't here yet
Seb: u can always come and hang with us if u want. I thought that was the plan anyway?
Before Dallas could respond, the typing icon popped up and remained on screen for a second.
