Page 17 of Isabella and the Slipper

He gave her another reassuring smile, then pulled out the sheet Mr.Morgan passed out. “Do any of these look interesting to you?”

Isabella buried herself behind the piece of paper for a few moments. When she lowered it, she cleared her throat again. “Building a motor looks fun.”

“I like that, too. Should we pick that one?”

A smile flashed across her lips but it left as quickly as it came. “Sounds good.”

“We’ll need to do some research to figure out what we need.”

She pulled out a notebook and a pencil. She wrote “Science Project: Building a Motor” in neat lettering at the top of the page.

Her fingers trembled. She was nervous.

He needed to get her talking.

“Mr.Morgan’s one of my favorite teachers.”

She fiddled with her pen. “Mine too.”

“What other classes do you like?”

“Art.” She said it quickly, then lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. “I like art.”

“That’s great. I’ve never been good at that kind of thing. All I can do is draw stick figures.” He chuckled, and she forced a smile. “Have you lived in Los Angeles your whole life?”

She shook her head but didn’t elaborate.

This girl intrigued him. He squinted at her. She seemed familiar somehow. “Are we in any other classes together?”

“No.”

Maybe his subconscious had taken note of her sitting behind him and he hadn’t fully realized it. He pulled out his phone, and she stiffened. “It’s okay. Mr.Morgan doesn’t care if we have phones in here as long as we’re getting our work done. I’m going to search and see what we need for materials.”

She gave him a smile. “I’ll write them down.”

They worked on building a list of materials and figured out how many items they had already. After that, they discussed what they would focus their paper on. The hour flew by.

Before the bell rang, Mr.Morgan stood. “You will need to meet with your partner outside of class, as we will be continuing our lectures. Please set up a time now so you don’t procrastinate. You’ll have two weeks to finish the project, write a paper on it, and present your materials to the class.”

Chase leaned forward. “Do you want to get together at my house after school today?”

“I can’t. I have something right after school. But I could later tonight.”

“What time?”

She swallowed again. “Seven?”

He had to fight to keep a frown off his face. He was anxious to speak to Five, and meeting with Isabella at seven would push his phone call back even further. But he knew they probably should get started. “All right. I’ll write down my address.”

He scribbled it down and handed her the paper. She stuck it in her back pocket. He tried to not let his disappointment show. “See you tonight,” he said.

When the final bell rang, he turned his desk around and slipped out of the classroom. He checked his watch. Three thirty. He pulled out his phone and texted Five.

Can I call you at eight tonight? Something came up. School project.

He couldn’t believe how anxious he was to hear back from her. Staring at the phone, he walked toward his car. The chime made him smile.

Sure, no problem.

---