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Shadowface 1979

Page 11

by Rhea Ryan

I shrivel into the shadows.

The guy with long hair and circle glasses—who looks like a hippy—jogs back to him. “Tommy,” he says with a drawl. “What are you looking at, man?” His friend follows his eyes to where I’m standing, but his friend slaps him on the back before he notices me.

Tommy.

He shakes his head and looks at his friend. “Nothing. Let’s go.” The two of them jog off, and I appreciate his backside as much as his front. If he did see me hiding, then at least he didn’t tell his friend.

After they’re gone, I head into the front office. The school secretary glances up, surprised to see me. She stares for a moment before asking, “Can I help you?”

I hand her my transcripts. Before we left, I had them printed out. “I’m here to register for school.”

She takes the papers from my hands and sifts through them while I wait patiently.

Eventually, she sighs. “We are in the middle of the semester. If you want to graduate in three months, you will have to catch up.” Her eyes linger on mine, then she gives me a once over and her face goes white.

I ignore her. “Please. I just need three more credits. My grades are high. I won’t cause any problems, and I promise I’ll catch up and do everything I need to do.”

I wait through the tense silence, despite her obvious discomfort and fidgeting. Public school can’t deny entry for youth—I learned that at my last school.

Eventually, she hands me a sheet of paper. “Alright, fill this form out, please. But I will need to talk to the principal before we can formally let you in. He will be back tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll put you in English and math to start.”

I grab the papers before she changes her mind. “Thank you.”

She watches me. Her eyes and lips are tight with the look of disdain she’s giving me. I open my mouth to respond, but snap it shut, not wanting to cause problems or give her any reason to deny me entry.

“Is there a problem?” I ask as I run through all the things she’s probably thinking.

She taps her pencil. “I can’t legally deny you entry, and your grades are very impressive. But this isn’t the place for you. You should leave now before anyone sees you, and don’t come back.”

Jesus.

Too late. The door opens, and a guy walks in, I try not to gape at him. He has jet-black, wavy hair and is wearing a dark, cracked leather jacket. He’s tall like the others, but edgy with soft dark facial hair that frames his face.

If Tommy looked like sunshine, then this guy looks like a dark and stormy night. He is the exact opposite of me in every way—and I can’t stop staring.

I settle in my chair, completing the form, attempting to ignore his presence or the secretary’s dire warning. My eyes flicker up to him, and he peers down at me, looking less than amused as if he was who she was warning me about.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks.

My cheeks burn.

“Remington,” the secretary snaps. “Language. Why are you in here?”

He shrugs and dismisses her question. “I thought you liked me, Miss Denton.”

She lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Not today. Please, not today. Principal Kent isn’t here today, and I can’t deal with you, so please, go back to class.” I keep my gaze down, trying not to look at his penetrating dark eyes.

He shrugs. “I got kicked out of class.”

She folds her arms. “Remy, your mother would be rolling in her grave if she knew how you’ve ended up. Let me handle it. Take a seat.”

“Well, she’s not here, is she? Feel free to call my old man instead.”

She sighs and grabs the phone, calling who I’m assuming is the teacher of the class he got kicked out of and they have a hushed but intense conversation.

The black leathers squeak as he leans back on the chair, sprawling his legs out. I’m acutely aware of how good he smells. I’m tiny beside him, like a bug, and that is exactly how he looks at me—like he wants to step on me. He is just as big as the athletes I saw a few minutes ago.

He glances at me, dissecting every inch. I hold his gaze, and he stares right into my soul. His eyes are smoldering pots of darkness, which captivate me. His jaw tenses, and for a moment, the air is sucked out of the room.