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I blink over at Ethan, certain I must have misheard him because students at All Hallows’ have no interest in being my friend. “Excuse me?”
“It can help to talk,” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this isn’t the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Abi,” he lets out a soft laugh, “we’ve been in this class for almost two years. You’re one of the smartest people here.”
“I—”
I really don’t know what to say to that. So I gawk at him, confused by the whole interaction.
Ethan flashes me a playful smile, one I’m sure I would recognise if it had been aimed in my direction before.
He’s cute. With dark blond hair and blue eyes that exude that classic boy next door charm. And he doesn’t look at me like I’m the weird, scarred girl with the tragic past.
So it must be pity then.
He heard about my father, and he wanted to take pity on the sad lost girl in class.
My stomach sinks and I suddenly want to throw my belongings back into my satchel and run from the room. From this godforsaken school.
But I don’t, because that would only draw more attention to my way, and I’ll probably end up hauled into Mr Porter’s office. He’s already tried twice this week to remind me that my in-class attendance isn’t necessary yet.
He doesn’t understand that I need to be here though. Even if I want to claw my skin off. Even if every time somebody looks at me or points in my direction, I want to grab the sharpest object I can find and?—
No.
No.
I refuse to give into those thoughts, even though they constantly plague my mind.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I swallow them down, trying my best to ignore Ethan’s heavy stare. Because nothing good can come from befriending boys like him.
“Sorry if I overstepped,” he says.
I don’t reply. I’m not sure there’s anything more to say.
He never cared to know me before today, so I’m not interested in him caring now.
I just want to keep my head down. Finish up the last few weeks at college. Figure out what the heck I’m going to do with my life.
And avoid Elliot Eaton at all costs.
* * *
Iglance behind me as I hurry back to the Bronte Building. I’ve had the strangest feeling all day—the feeling of being watched.
Which, in some ways, I know to be true.
Peoplearewatching me.
It felt different today though. Felt different ever since Elliot chased me down and tried to talk to me, an interaction I’m choosing to pretend never happened.
But every time I turn around, I find no one.
Maybe I’m finally losing my mind.
It wouldn’t surprise me.
