Be Not Forgetful

Chapter Three

"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." Michelangelo 

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I was bored. Beyond bored. Listening to my history teacher drone on and on about something that happened hundreds of years ago to people who have been dead for hundreds of years. He was talking about Mesopotamia, a period in time in which I could really care less about. I liked listening to Ancient Greece and Rome. The Victorian Era or Middle Ages. Kings and Queens, plagues and tortures. It was all very romanticized in these history books. A language I understood perfectly.

Mesopotamia was farming and cultures... no romance. No pretty pictures and elegant dresses. Just stone statues and buildings. Boring.

My eyes were slipping closed when I got jabbed in my ribs. I flinched so hard my desk shook with me. A few strange gazes were shot my way before completely losing interest.

I looked around for the culprit when my eyes caught two smoky, grey pools with mischief written deep within the crinkles that surrounded them.

"Why did you do that?" I hissed at the small girl with the Chesire grin sitting in the desk next to me.

"Because you were drooling all over your desk," She whispered back, her smile growing bigger if it were even possible.

I rolled my eyes and tried to make it seem as if I was paying attention to the lecture.

"You don't have to ignore me... or pretend to ignore me." 

"Yes, I do because I am trying to listen to the teacher."

"No you aren't, you're trying to catch up on last night's sleep." The small girl giggled, poking my side once again. 

"Well now I am rested and I want to listen." 

"Right." She left me alone after that and there was some small part of me that wished she hadn't. I was once again plunged into the dull stratosphere of Mesopotamia. The teacher's monotone voice lulling my senses into a numb nothingness. 

I almost got up and cheered when the bell finally cried out. I gathered my books from my desk and shoved them tight against my chest. I was out of there before the instructor could finish shouting what pages we were supposed to read that night. 

I was counting down the locker numbers in the hallway when the small girl bounced up beside me. 

"Hey sleepy-head." She said in a sing-song voice. 

"Don't call me that," I said, looking down at my schedule again, my locker number scribbled in an unintelligible script.

"Well what can  call you?" I looked over at her. She was smaller than I had thought originally, her height only making it to my 5"5 shoulders. She had a pixie cut that made her sharp face resemble a fox. She was like an actual fairy. One with a high pitched voice that made my eardrums scream. 

"Claire..."I finally said after some consideration. 

"Claire? That sounds like an old lady's name." 

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, my attention turned back to my schedule. 

"You're welcome," She gave me another wide smile. I ignored it. Finally finding my locker I opened it up and placed my nonessential books in the small metal cubby. Pixie girl leaned against the wall next to me.

"Are you going to follow me all day?" I asked, feeling my blood pressure elevating.

"Mmm, maybe, haven't decided yet. You seem fun and I like to be around fun people." 

"Well that's good to hear." 

"Isn't it?" She squealed, making me flinch, "My name is Abbie by the way." 

"Okay, um, Abbie, I have to go to my next period." I shut my locker and started down the hallway. 

"You've got study hall right?" She bounced after me, "So do I." 

"Oh goody..." We walked side-by-side with each other to the other side of the school, Abbie talking my ear off all the way. By the time we crossed the threshold of the library I wanted to bash my head into a wall. 

I slid into a round table, Abbie close behind whispering now to conform with our new environment. 

"Oh hey, Sam!" Abbie squeaked at a lanky girl with bright pink streaks in her platinum blond hair. Looking at her in the school uniform you could've confused her with an English punk band member. 

"Hey Abbie." She slid into the seat across from us and promptly laid her head on her arms and took a nap.

"That's Sam, she's my friend. She's a little weird but she's cool." I nodded and pulled my book I had to read for my English class from my lap and onto the table, "Oh you're actually going to study?"

"It's called study hall isn't it?" I said through my teeth. 

"Well yeah, but nobody actually studies. Take Nate for example he--" 

The first thing that I noticed was his eyes. You couldn't not notice them with how purely green they were. Electric green. 

I was entranced by his forcefully green eyes. 

His beautiful, sandy-blond ringlets that tickled the edge of his chin reminded me of corn silk and how it danced around in a field on a windy day.

I studied his face like an art major would Michelangelo's David. And the more I studied the more questions I had.

Why did his face seem so sad?

So guarded?

Why did his body tense and then relax as if he were having trouble breathing?

What was he looking at? So intensely, almost unblinking.

What caused those deep worry lines in his forehead and dark circles under his eyes?

Was he like me?

Did he also have trouble sleeping? Plagued by cryptic nightmares neither of us can decipher?

And who or what perfectly painted those freckles on his nose?

"You're drooling..." Abbie giggled, causing my mind to plunge back into reality.

"Am not!" I huffed but made sure to wipe the corners of my mouth just in case.

"Why don't you just go and talk to him?" She said it so nonchalantly that it startled me. A pool of envy bubbled deep in my stomach. Where did she get all that confidence from and where could I get some?

"Because what the hell would he want with me?" I fiddled with the edges of my book. Flipping through the pages with my index finger. 

"You're probably right. He never gives anybody else the time of day anyways." I was startled by the sudden coolness to her voice but ignored it. 

With my newfound depression I turn back over to the beautiful boy sitting alone at the back of the room and I'm stunned. Because he's looking at me. His stone face melted into a soft mask and his guarded green eyes were reassuring, borderline condescending.

Had he heard us?

Impossible.

But by the way he's looking at me I can't help but think he had.

He seemed too sorry. Almost as if he were trying to contradict Abbie's words.

I gave him a shy smile back, to which he seemed to appreciate before going back to brooding by himself. A statue once more.

"Alrighty then..." I mumbled under my breath and opened up my book.