The Fragile Ordinary

But then...

“Jordan,” she whispered tearfully. “He wanted to have sex. I said I didn’t want to, and then he said I was too young for him and...he went off with some girl from his class.”

Dipshit.

Arsehole.

Wanker!

I tightened my grip on my friend. “I’m sorry he did that.”

She cried a little harder, and I tried to soothe and hush her. After a while I felt her body relax. I was sad for her. I hated that a boy had treated her so poorly when he was lucky Vicki Brown had even noticed he existed.

Yet, there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised.

In fact, it just drove home to me why my book boyfriends were a million times better than the real thing. Tonight I’d gone to a party for someone else because I’d made a promise to try harder. However, years ago I’d made a promise to myself, and that promise was painted above my headboard.

To thine own self be true.

Be true to yourself.

Standing in the corner of a party, talking to a boy who bored me and pretending that he didn’t, allowing him close enough to violate my lips... I hadn’t wanted to do any of those things. I hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place! And look where it got me.

Worst night in a long time.

From now on, I did what I wanted to do.

I would remain true to myself.

Stay at home reading a lot of books and writing my poetry.

Even if everyone, including my best friends, thought it made me the biggest antisocial weirdo in Porty.

THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG

7 (#ud4d4c379-b146-5280-a995-cf6b34f3b9f1)

They all want to solve you and your mystery,

But I don’t.

They want to unravel your secrets, your history,

But I won’t.

I keep lying to myself, safe from your jagged edge,

All the while my curiosity tries to lure me off the ledge.

—CC

September first was the day I decided to push the boundaries of the school uniform. Our dress code was pretty strict but over the last few weeks I’d gotten away with adding cute, kitschy brooches and pins to the lapels of my blazer. So a week ago I’d asked Vicki if she had time to make me a few pairs of knee-high socks. In black. With gold stripes. They matched the uniform! They just jazzed it up a bit. Vicki whipped them up in a week and today was the first day I was wearing them.

I thought they looked cute, but I had to admit I was a little afraid of a teacher pulling me up for them.

Being worried about wearing outlandish knee socks was the least of my concerns. But I didn’t know that when I walked into the school building that day.

I didn’t know that until English class.

After a few weeks we’d made fast progress with Hamlet. We were on Act Two Scene Two, and Penny Shaw in the year above me was reading the part of the First Player when I became aware of someone hissing something at someone behind me.

The hissing grew more frantic, followed by the sound of stuff thumping to the floor.

We all whipped around to look as Tobias King got out of his chair to pick up his books and jotter from the carpet wearing a beleaguered look on his face. I glanced at Heather to find her opting for an angry, smug expression.

“What is going on over there?” Mr. Stone snapped.

Heather and Tobias seemed to cause some kind of kerfuffle in every lesson, so I could understand why Mr. Stone’s patience was growing thin.

“Nothing, Mr. Stone,” Heather answered sweetly.

“Nothing?” Tobias huffed, still standing as he stared down at her incredulously. He turned to Mr. Stone. “You do realize I’m sitting next to someone in need of a mental health professional?”

“GFY, Tobias!” Heather yelled.

“I have a teenage sister, Heather.” Mr. Stone looked so harassed that I felt sorry for him. “I pretty much understand every text abbreviation under the sun. You can wait outside the room until the end of class and stay there until I come see you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Heather. And when you return to my class, Tobias will no longer be sitting next to you. I’m tired of the two of you causing disruptions. Tobias, grab your things and take the seat next to Comet.”

The blood suddenly whooshed in my ears as my heart rate shot up. I stared in horror at Mr. Stone, and he gave me a reassuring look.

How had this happened?

How was it possible that one little sentence had completely ruined my day? No...wait. My entire year in English class.

The seat next to mine made a rough scraping sound against the hardwearing carpet, and I stared determinedly ahead as Tobias King’s large body settled beside me. I could feel the sprawl of him, the warmth, and smell his faint spicy citrus scent.

My cheeks burned and my muscles tensed as I held myself away from him. As good-looking as this boy was, his indifference, his delinquent behavior, had taken a toll on my crush. I’d thrown him over in favor of a fictional immortal boy warrior called Noah.

However, it was hard to remind myself of that when he was so close—so terrifyingly close—that my body hummed with awareness. I couldn’t concentrate on what was being taught. All I could focus on was the shift of his legs under our desk, the way his arm almost brushed mine as he lifted a hand to drag his fingers through his hair and the irritated sigh that escaped him.

I wasn’t the only one who heard that sigh.

“You disagree, Mr. King?” Our teacher stared at him.

Disagree about what? What had I missed?