Page 11 of Obsession

“Katherine, but call me Kath.”

“Kath? Shouldn’t it be Kate?”

I raised my eyebrows.

If you are going to be a smartass to me, you and I aren’t going to be very good friends.

“It’s Kath,” I repeated and turned to the secretary.

“Here you go, girls.”

She handed us our papers, including the timetable, a small map, and a form for our teachers to sign. Why did moving have to be so much damn work?

“How many classes do we have together? I hope a lot. It’s so nice to have found someone else who’s new. Where are you from? I love your makeup, I could never use that much black, I’d look like a crazy clown.”

My eyes widened as we left the office. This girl just couldn’t shut up. I skimmed over my timetable and prayed that we had as few classes together as possible. She was too talkative for my taste.

“Well, my study track is social sciences and English, so I have a lot of history classes, French, Latin…” I replied, remembering how much I used to love it, but now it all felt like math.

“Oh, too bad, mine is math and computer science,” she pouted.

“I’m sorry about that,” I lied and thanked God at the same time.

It was pure chaos here. Since it was the first day, there weren’t really any classes, and everyone was trying to catch up with their friends after the summer vacation. I wandered aimlessly through the corridors with Candice, who wouldn’t stop talking, and followed me around like a lost puppy. Had she really not noticed that I wasn’t listening? I kept gritting my teeth so as not to offend her.

I searched for my locker in the long line, frowning and getting angrier by the second.

“Oh, I found mine,” the redhead squealed excitedly.

Fucking good for you!

I noticed the other students looking at us, but mostly at her, which I was glad about.

She was like a 4D color TV, a new generation flat screen that took your breath away with millions of shades, while I was the antique black and white version – one that didn’t beguile with its images. The comparison made me smirk; it was as real as it was exaggerated. Her crimson hair stood out, while my dirty blonde offered me a sort of invisibility, erasing me from the picture, for which I was grateful. Candice was good at something; she drew all the attention away from me.

“I think mine is on the other side,” I assumed, glad that my locker wasn’t too close to hers.

I walked to the left, still watching the numbers on the lockers, until I bumped into something that threw me off balance. Another person.

Fuck me! Could I have not?

“Oh God, I’m sorry about that,” a soft male voice apologized as two arms helped hold me up.

I pushed my hair out of my face and looked into the incredible blue eyes of a boy with short brown hair.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, bending down to pick up the papers that flew out of my hands.

“Thank you,” I rubbed my forehead in embarrassment.

“No problem.”

“Do you happen to know where 572 is?” I asked, looking into his wide, friendly eyes. He was taller than me, and kind of thin.

“Well, it should be right next to me. Mine is number 569,” he jerked his head toward the long row of lockers painted white and red – the school colors.

He took my hand and pulled me along with him. A few steps later, I was standing right in front of locker 572. I looked on the page for the combination to the lock. 0820. I had to find something to tie the numbers to so I could memorize them, otherwise I would get stuck having to carry my books around all day.

I opened it and was surprised to find that all my books were already inside. I took out my water bottle, then threw my backpack in too, and slammed the door shut, making sure it locked automatically.

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