colour , they almost seemed liquid. Mine on the other hand,
were just a plain, light grey.
“What’s your name?” I found myself asking
again, now seriously needing to know.
"Why do
you want to know?" he asked, and that should have been more than enough to
make me not care anymore, but I pressed on.
"Because you know mine."
“No, I don’t.”
That surprised
me, so I pointed out. “You called me Nora earlier,”
He revised his
statement. “I don’t know your full name.”
“It’s Lenora Baker. People call me Lennie , sometimes.”
“Any middle
names?” he asked.
“Grace.”
Then to my
utmost discomfort, he again watched me for a few seconds before returning the favour . My temper had begun to rise as I waited, and I
couldn’t believe how much it would have upset me if he hadn’t told me.
"My
name’s Alex," he finally said, before I could read anymore into his
silence. "Full name: Alexandre Nathan Roque ."
"Alex,"
I repeated testing the sound of it in my mouth, and to my ears. "Can I
call you Nathan?"
"No."
"But
earlier you called me Nora."
He seemed
amused at my upset. "And?"
"Well no
one calls me Nora, apart from my mom. So for that I should be able to call you
Nathan."
I expected him
to argue but he just remained silent, watching me again like there was
something on my face that he was trying to decipher. It unsettled me, so to
throw the unnerving feeling off, I went on to cement my stance.
"I'll
call you Nathan," I stated firmly, and when he didn't respond I chose to
ignore his silent stare and took the opportunity to ask more questions.
"Are you
Italian?" I asked. He shook his head.
"I'm
Portuguese," he said. "And you're American I suppose."
"I am. That obvious huh?"
He answered
plainly, "It is."
I chose not to
read too much into the probable basis for that conclusion.
The bell
signifying the end of lunchtime rang then, and instantly , he rose to his
feet. I was disappointed. I wanted him to stay a little bit longer.
"Are you okay to attend class now?" he asked,
and I nodded, rising up too. He left to go talk to the nurse, and in no time,
we were out and on our way. He escorted me across the block to my floor, and as
the few people still remaining in the corridors took the trouble to stare at
us, I started to feel uncomfortable.
We stopped at my locker so that I could drop the lunch
bag, and when he stretched his lips into a soft smile as a farewell gesture, my
breath caught at the back of my throat. Shyly, I returned it and he left,
leaving me to wonder when I was going to see him again.
« CHAPTER 5 »
I didn't see him for the rest
of the week, and it bothered me. On Monday in class, I absent mindedly stared
out the window and wondered why my not seeing an almost stranger for a few days
had managed to take over the entirety of my thoughts. Up until the previous
weekend I’d been unaware of his existence, but now, it seemed as if I couldn't
get him out of my head.
A cold breeze that somehow found its way through the
edge of the closed window interrupted my reverie. Looking away from the courtyard
scenery below, I took a brief glance around to re-orientate myself with the
dull class, and then my eyes fell on the initials I had written out on the top
corner of the opened page in my notebook.
N.A.R, it
read. Picking up my pen, I wrote out his name in full, and in the very best
cursive I could work up. The results were pitiful but as I stared down at the
name, I found myself feeling as distressed as the letters appeared. Each time I
thought of him, something warm would heat up the pit of my stomach and
excitement would flutter in my chest. I didn’t yet know what to make of any of
it but one thing was for sure; I didn’t like it.
Brushing my hair away from my face, I focused my attention
on the chemistry element symbols scribbled across the board, and the flat tone
of Mrs. Zimmerman’s voice. None of her scribbles made much sense to me, so
after a few more moments of
were just a plain, light grey.
“What’s your name?” I found myself asking
again, now seriously needing to know.
"Why do
you want to know?" he asked, and that should have been more than enough to
make me not care anymore, but I pressed on.
"Because you know mine."
“No, I don’t.”
That surprised
me, so I pointed out. “You called me Nora earlier,”
He revised his
statement. “I don’t know your full name.”
“It’s Lenora Baker. People call me Lennie , sometimes.”
“Any middle
names?” he asked.
“Grace.”
Then to my
utmost discomfort, he again watched me for a few seconds before returning the favour . My temper had begun to rise as I waited, and I
couldn’t believe how much it would have upset me if he hadn’t told me.
"My
name’s Alex," he finally said, before I could read anymore into his
silence. "Full name: Alexandre Nathan Roque ."
"Alex,"
I repeated testing the sound of it in my mouth, and to my ears. "Can I
call you Nathan?"
"No."
"But
earlier you called me Nora."
He seemed
amused at my upset. "And?"
"Well no
one calls me Nora, apart from my mom. So for that I should be able to call you
Nathan."
I expected him
to argue but he just remained silent, watching me again like there was
something on my face that he was trying to decipher. It unsettled me, so to
throw the unnerving feeling off, I went on to cement my stance.
"I'll
call you Nathan," I stated firmly, and when he didn't respond I chose to
ignore his silent stare and took the opportunity to ask more questions.
"Are you
Italian?" I asked. He shook his head.
"I'm
Portuguese," he said. "And you're American I suppose."
"I am. That obvious huh?"
He answered
plainly, "It is."
I chose not to
read too much into the probable basis for that conclusion.
The bell
signifying the end of lunchtime rang then, and instantly , he rose to his
feet. I was disappointed. I wanted him to stay a little bit longer.
"Are you okay to attend class now?" he asked,
and I nodded, rising up too. He left to go talk to the nurse, and in no time,
we were out and on our way. He escorted me across the block to my floor, and as
the few people still remaining in the corridors took the trouble to stare at
us, I started to feel uncomfortable.
We stopped at my locker so that I could drop the lunch
bag, and when he stretched his lips into a soft smile as a farewell gesture, my
breath caught at the back of my throat. Shyly, I returned it and he left,
leaving me to wonder when I was going to see him again.
« CHAPTER 5 »
I didn't see him for the rest
of the week, and it bothered me. On Monday in class, I absent mindedly stared
out the window and wondered why my not seeing an almost stranger for a few days
had managed to take over the entirety of my thoughts. Up until the previous
weekend I’d been unaware of his existence, but now, it seemed as if I couldn't
get him out of my head.
A cold breeze that somehow found its way through the
edge of the closed window interrupted my reverie. Looking away from the courtyard
scenery below, I took a brief glance around to re-orientate myself with the
dull class, and then my eyes fell on the initials I had written out on the top
corner of the opened page in my notebook.
N.A.R, it
read. Picking up my pen, I wrote out his name in full, and in the very best
cursive I could work up. The results were pitiful but as I stared down at the
name, I found myself feeling as distressed as the letters appeared. Each time I
thought of him, something warm would heat up the pit of my stomach and
excitement would flutter in my chest. I didn’t yet know what to make of any of
it but one thing was for sure; I didn’t like it.
Brushing my hair away from my face, I focused my attention
on the chemistry element symbols scribbled across the board, and the flat tone
of Mrs. Zimmerman’s voice. None of her scribbles made much sense to me, so
after a few more moments of
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