Read Online The Seventh Sister, A Paranormal Romance by Z. L. Arkadie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Z. L. Arkadie
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my eyes a little. “Well, it kind of does hurt me physically if I’m listening to someone blab on about nothing interesting. I get a headache.”
“Really?” He has this serious expression.
“Really.” Not really, but I just go with it because although the headache is not literal it is figurative.
We stood by the door having that conversation. He took one step closer to me. Our faces were close. His breath smelled faintly like cinnamon spice.
“Do I give you a headache?” he asked.
Of course, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Is this you flirting with me right now?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
It felt rational to stare into each other’s eyes. I think I wanted him to kiss me. As I’m sitting in English Lit, all I can think about is remembering wanting him to do just that.
“Any thoughts, Zillael?” Mr. Reynolds asks.
That’s when I realize, I’ve been sitting here daydreaming while staring out the window.
“On what?” I ask. I’m slightly peeved by him putting me on the spot like this.
“Well, you would know if you were listening.”
I feel my eyes glowering at him for trying to patronize me. I’ve listened to his boring lectures everyday up until now, and it’s as if all the other times I sat here pretending not to be bored out of my mind don’t even count. Instinctively, I’m preparing the most sarcastic comment I can conjure, but then, and strangely enough, I ask myself what would Derek do?
When the answer comes to me, I sit up in my chair, look Mr. Reynolds straight in the eyes and say, “Sorry, I’ll pay closer attention.”
The shock in the air is thick. I’m electrically aware that every single student in the classroom expected a snarky remark from me, including Mr. Reynolds.
“Thank you,” he says, but it sounds like he’s questioning whether that’s the appropriate reply. So, “Thank you,” he says more assuredly after a brief pause.
I almost shrink in my seat because I’m getting hit by stares. I do pipe up and listen to Mr. Reynolds talk about The Great Gatsby , which turns out to be this week’s assigned reading.
Finally, it’s the last class of the day. When I walk through the door, Mr. Lux is at the front of the classroom writing on the chalkboard with his back to us. This is the first time I’ve seen him since that night. As I’m standing there watching him, Riley walks by and bumps me hard. The impact is like getting hit by a flea, but still I’m irritated.
“Oops, sorry,” she says, but that snide smile tells me she’s not sorry at all.
I’m debating about whether or not to take her by the collar and hem her up against the wall in hopes it will scare her enough to get the picture—I’m someone she doesn’t want to mess with.
“Zillael,” Mr. Lux says as he quickly whips around and dashes over to a chair on the front row on the opposite side of the classroom. He slams his hands down on the tabletop. “Sit here.”
Feeling hot under the black turtleneck sweater, I move over to the seat but Riley leaps in front of me.
“So what’s going on between you and Derek?”
“None of your business,” I say past clenched teeth.
“How does it feel to screw around with another girl’s boyfriend?”
“I don’t know, never done that before.” I’m snarling.
“You’re such a bitch,” she barks.
I’m trying to picture what Derek would do in this case as well, as it’s quite extreme.
I look deep into her face to really see her, like see her. There’s vulnerability in her eyes. She’s really young too, probably the jewel of both her parents eyes with her light auburn hair and a button nose. She should be a Christmas ornament. Mr. and Mrs. Simms would never believe their daughter’s a bully. Here’s another thing I see. She really believes I’m unable to hurt her and thinks she can hurt me.
I know this is a dire situation because it’s clear she’s not going to stop taunting me until something severe
“Really?” He has this serious expression.
“Really.” Not really, but I just go with it because although the headache is not literal it is figurative.
We stood by the door having that conversation. He took one step closer to me. Our faces were close. His breath smelled faintly like cinnamon spice.
“Do I give you a headache?” he asked.
Of course, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Is this you flirting with me right now?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
It felt rational to stare into each other’s eyes. I think I wanted him to kiss me. As I’m sitting in English Lit, all I can think about is remembering wanting him to do just that.
“Any thoughts, Zillael?” Mr. Reynolds asks.
That’s when I realize, I’ve been sitting here daydreaming while staring out the window.
“On what?” I ask. I’m slightly peeved by him putting me on the spot like this.
“Well, you would know if you were listening.”
I feel my eyes glowering at him for trying to patronize me. I’ve listened to his boring lectures everyday up until now, and it’s as if all the other times I sat here pretending not to be bored out of my mind don’t even count. Instinctively, I’m preparing the most sarcastic comment I can conjure, but then, and strangely enough, I ask myself what would Derek do?
When the answer comes to me, I sit up in my chair, look Mr. Reynolds straight in the eyes and say, “Sorry, I’ll pay closer attention.”
The shock in the air is thick. I’m electrically aware that every single student in the classroom expected a snarky remark from me, including Mr. Reynolds.
“Thank you,” he says, but it sounds like he’s questioning whether that’s the appropriate reply. So, “Thank you,” he says more assuredly after a brief pause.
I almost shrink in my seat because I’m getting hit by stares. I do pipe up and listen to Mr. Reynolds talk about The Great Gatsby , which turns out to be this week’s assigned reading.
Finally, it’s the last class of the day. When I walk through the door, Mr. Lux is at the front of the classroom writing on the chalkboard with his back to us. This is the first time I’ve seen him since that night. As I’m standing there watching him, Riley walks by and bumps me hard. The impact is like getting hit by a flea, but still I’m irritated.
“Oops, sorry,” she says, but that snide smile tells me she’s not sorry at all.
I’m debating about whether or not to take her by the collar and hem her up against the wall in hopes it will scare her enough to get the picture—I’m someone she doesn’t want to mess with.
“Zillael,” Mr. Lux says as he quickly whips around and dashes over to a chair on the front row on the opposite side of the classroom. He slams his hands down on the tabletop. “Sit here.”
Feeling hot under the black turtleneck sweater, I move over to the seat but Riley leaps in front of me.
“So what’s going on between you and Derek?”
“None of your business,” I say past clenched teeth.
“How does it feel to screw around with another girl’s boyfriend?”
“I don’t know, never done that before.” I’m snarling.
“You’re such a bitch,” she barks.
I’m trying to picture what Derek would do in this case as well, as it’s quite extreme.
I look deep into her face to really see her, like see her. There’s vulnerability in her eyes. She’s really young too, probably the jewel of both her parents eyes with her light auburn hair and a button nose. She should be a Christmas ornament. Mr. and Mrs. Simms would never believe their daughter’s a bully. Here’s another thing I see. She really believes I’m unable to hurt her and thinks she can hurt me.
I know this is a dire situation because it’s clear she’s not going to stop taunting me until something severe
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