Downcast - Cait Reynolds Page 0,4

classroom, and wouldn't you know it, Haley Smith took the desk next to me. I treated him to a short glare before staring down at my notebook.

I felt a touch on my shoulder and looked up in surprise to see him slowly tucking my hair behind my ear. Thrilling little zings went straight to the pit of my stomach, and my heart lurched in confusion between panic and excitement.

It was such a tender gesture that I wanted to cry again. What the hell? Why couldn't this be real? Why couldn't this be like a book, where the mysterious new guy fell for the pretty geek, instead of zeroing in on her for a particularly cruel brand of mockery?

Adults might have called me paranoid or diagnosed me with a persecution complex, but I knew better. This was high school, the ultimate petri dish for social Darwinism—which I had learned about last year in Social Studies.

His fingertips slid down a lock of my hair and rested lightly against my shoulder, burning through my dress to brand my skin. Or, at least that's what it felt like.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," he said softly, and damn if I couldn't help looking up at him. Big mistake. Narrowed black eyes stared back at me hungrily. My heart went from jackhammering to stalling out. I should have been creeped out, but I was more creeped out by the fact that I wasn't.

"Whatever," I mumbled, forcing myself to shrug off his hand and fix my gaze on the front of the classroom. "It's fine."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit back in his chair. I could feel his gaze on me, but I locked myself into position so I couldn't even accidentally catch his eye.

But what if he wasn't mocking me? The thought was too shocking to even consider for a moment. No, nothing like that ever happened outside of books. I liked to think of myself as a good judge of character—like Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. Sure, she made some mistakes, but she was also right on the money a lot of the times.

All my instincts told me he belonged with the beautiful, popular crowd, and the speculative look that Jordan gave him as she came in confirmed it.

She took a seat in front of him and turned around to face him.

"Hi!" she chirped, flashing her big teeth in a big smile. "I'm Jordan. You're new, right?"

Haley still sat back against his chair, his body perfectly relaxed, and he slowly looked away from me and over to her.

"Yes," he replied finally, a cool, patient smile on his lips.

"Haley, right?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you sit with me and my friends at lunch?" Jordan gushed. "We can tell you all about everything you need to know about Darbyfield."

"That would be nice," Haley said evenly. "Thank you."

"Your brother should have lunch with us, too!"

"I'm sure."

Jordan paused, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling at her confusion. I could read the whole situation like a book. Even if I didn't know Haley, I knew Jordan. I had had twelve years to study her, from her first princess party to her becoming the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad. She was like my monkey in a cage.

She clearly expected Haley to be a lot more enthusiastic about having lunch with her and to jump to it to invite his brother. It had been a long time since she had had to do more to attract someone than smile and extend her gracious notice to whatever subject she decided to take into her kingdom.

Haley was either an idiot to blow her off like this, or he didn't give a rat's ass about her approval. Given his attempts to talk to me, I began to wonder if his social barometer was just completely whacked.

I just had to be calm, to keep my walls up and give it a day or two for him to get suckered in by Jordan. He would find a new desk in the classroom next to her and learn to ignore me.

Everything would once again be as it should be in my glass-bubble world.

Mr. Brown came into the room and started class. Outside the window, the wind howled, and the rain slapped against the windows, leaving icy smears.

The bell rang at the end of class. As I stuffed my things into my bag, I tried not to look over at Haley, who only carried a notebook and pen with him. I