Eternity by Laury Falter Page B

nod to Mr. Gomer and slipped out the door.
    “Ms. Tanner,” said Mr. Gomer tightly. “Would you mind taking your seat so we may begin our study of the Spanish language?”
    “Sorry,” I replied, swiftly moving passed him to the only open desk left.
    Only after settling in and pulling my writing pad from my book bag did I notice that Bridgette sat directly beside me. She rolled her eyes at me and I knew that she’d either seen or heard about the incident in the cafeteria.
    At that point, I wasn’t sure this day could get any worse.
    As it turned out, once I was able to ignore Bridgette I found the class was nearly as interesting as Ms. Beedinwigg’s, though without the charismatic musings and regular strolls around the room. I actually began to enjoy myself by the time the end of class arrived, my excitement rising also because I was about to see Eran again.
    He was waiting for me before the bell rang and the students could spill out into the hallway.
    He was eager to talk, I could tell, but the number of other students in the hallway seemed to have doubled and prevented it.
    Keeping close beside me, we strolled silently towards the West Hall. There was talk of prom night, college acceptances, and unbearable course loads. There was also talk of the cafeteria clash. More than a few students ducked their heads and whispered as we passed them, reminding me of the lab explosion last semester in which I became the notorious student with a reputation for causing destruction and injury. I was once again in familiar territory.
    Eran seemed to have overheard because the only thing he said before leaving me at the door was, “Don’t pay attention. It’ll die down.”
    I wasn’t so confident.
    The last class, which happened to be another elective course in sculpting, was painfully long. It wasn’t because of the few students who sent frowns in my direction to condemn me again for something that wasn’t really my fault but the fact that no sculpting could begin until the clay arrived the following class. So, we spent the hour talking about the many different types and nuances of clay. It was a very long hour.
    The only positive was that there were no Fallen Ones or Bridgette Madison’s in this class.
    Most of the time, I spent cogitating on how to handle Eran’s determination that I leave the city. This was a logical option, I knew. Clearly, Fallen Ones were arriving and a fairly significant attack was on its way. However, there is a part of me, a rather large and vocal part, which adamantly detests running. Eran calls this trait stubbornness. I call it rational. Running only encourages and emboldens enemies, something I refuse to allow. By the end of the class, I had found no resolution that would appease my needs and Eran’s simultaneously.
    The bell rang and I found Eran, once again, waiting for me outside the door. Despite the Fallen Ones arrivals and our disagreements on how to handle it, my interest in seeing Eran had not been tempered. I couldn’t stop the smile now lifting my cheeks nor did I really want to.
    “Good last class?” he asked, cordially. He seemed far more relaxed than before.
    “It’s good to see you,” I said.
    Then my smile faded.
    Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of blonde hair halted directly in front of Eran. Instinctually the muscles in my back tightened.
    “Bridgette Madison,” she said, holding out a bejeweled hand in greeting.
    Eran hesitantly reached for it. As slight as it was, he’d noticed my reaction to her and was therefore guarded.
    Watching now as she gazed up at Eran through thickly covered eyelashes, I suddenly realized that I’d been wrong. Bridgette hadn’t rolled her eyes at me in class because of the cafeteria clash. I got the suspicious feeling she was interested in Eran.
    “What can I do for you, Bridgette,” he asked, amiable but unsmiling.
    “Well…we have a group planning prom night. I manage it,” she said with artificial modesty. “We wanted to know