The Tearsmith

Lost Tale page 2

Mr. Milligan was pouring cereal into a small ceramic bowl, with a sleepy smile on his lips.

And right in the center, between them, was Rigel.

His black hair hit me like a punch; a bruise right in the pupil. I had to blink to realize it wasn't just my imagination.

He was explaining something, with his delicate shoulders in a relaxed posture, and tousled strands framed his face.

The Milligans were looking at him with shining eyes, and at one point, they both laughed in unison when he said something. Their light laughter buzzed in my ears as if I had suddenly split in two and found myself worlds apart.

"Oh, Nica!" Anna exclaimed. "Good morning!"

I shrugged slightly. They stared at me, and somehow I felt out of place. Even though I had just arrived and barely knew them. Even though I was supposed to be there, not him.

Rigel's black irises lifted to meet mine. They found me without needing to search, as if he already knew. For a moment, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch in a quick, abrupt movement. He tilted his head to the side and smiled seraphically.

"Good morning, Nica."

A chill ran down my spine. I didn't move; I couldn't bring myself to respond, and I felt myself sinking deeper into a kind of cold confusion.

"Did you sleep well?" Mr. Milligan pulled out a chair for me. "Come, have breakfast!"

"We were getting to know each other a little," they said, and I glanced at Rigel, who was now observing me as if I were a perfect painting placed between the Milligans.

I settled in with some caution, while Mr. Milligan refilled Rigel's glass and he smiled back, completely at ease, making me feel like I was sitting on a bed of thorns.

"I will be good." I was watching the Milligan couple exchange some words in front of me when suddenly the words "I will be good" flashed through my mind like a scarlet glow, "I will be good, I swear..."

"How do you feel on your first day here, Nica?" Anna asked, just as charming in the early morning. "Are you nervous?"

I tried to push my fears far away, although I could feel them resisting, refusing to leave me.

"Oh... No," I said, trying to appear relaxed. "I'm not afraid... I've always liked going to school."

It was true.

School was one of the very few reasons that allowed us to leave the Grave. As we walked the path to the public school, I would walk with my head held high. Along the way, I would look at the clouds and imagine myself like everyone else, daydreaming that I was soaring in an airplane, flying to distant and free worlds.

That... was one of the rare moments when I almost managed to feel normal.

"I've already called the office," Anna informed us. "The principal will receive you right away. The school has confirmed your enrollment, and they assured me that you can start attending classes immediately. I know it's all very sudden, but... I hope it goes well. They will allow you to request to be in the same class, if you want," she added.

It seemed like she genuinely meant it, and I made an effort to hide my apprehension.

"Oh. Yes... thank you."

But I sensed someone scrutinizing me. Rigel was watching me. His irises sparkled deep and pronounced under his arched lashes. He was looking directly into my eyes.

I averted my gaze as if his eyes were burning me. I felt a visceral desire to distance myself, and using the excuse of getting dressed, I got up from the table and left the kitchen.

As I put walls and barriers between us, I felt something twist in my stomach, and that gaze infested my thoughts.

"I will be good," I whispered to myself compulsively. "I will be good... I swear..."

Of all the people in the world, he was the last one I wanted there.

Would I be able to ignore him?

The new school was a gray, box-like building.

Mr. Milligan stopped the car, and some children passed by the hood, hurrying to get to class. He adjusted his compact glasses on his nose and clumsily rested his hands on the steering wheel, as if unsure where to put them. I discovered that I liked studying his expressions: he had a docile and clumsy personality, and perhaps that's why I felt so much empathy towards him.

"Anna will pick you up later."

Despite everything, I felt a much more pleasant flutter than before at the thought of someone waiting for me out there, ready to take me home. I nodded from the backseat, with my worn-out backpack on my lap.

"Thank you, Mr. Milligan."

"Oh, you can... you can call me Norman," he started to say, his ears turning slightly red as we got out of the car. I watched as the car disappeared down the street, until I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around and saw Rigel walking alone towards the entrance. I followed his slender figure with my eyes, the agile and confident movement of his broad shoulders. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved and walked, with those precise strides, as if the ground molded itself to his shoes.

I entered the entrance behind him, but without realizing it, my strap got caught of my backpack on the handle. I widened my eyes, and the tug made me lunge forward onto someone who was entering at that moment.

"What the hell..." I heard as I turned around. A boy pulled his arm away irritably, holding a couple of books in his hand.

"Sorry," I whispered in a small voice, and his friend behind him gave him a little tap.

I tucked my hair behind my ear, and when our eyes met, it seemed like he was assessing me again. The anger vanished from his face, and he stood still, as if my eyes had struck him.

After a moment, unexpectedly, he let go of the books he was holding.

I watched as the books fell to his feet, and since he didn't bend down to pick them up, I did it for him.

I handed them to him, feeling guilty for bumping into him, and noticed that he hadn't taken his eyes off me the entire time.

"Thanks," he said, smiling slowly, as his gaze roamed over me in a way that made me blush, although it seemed amusing or perhaps intriguing to him.

"Are you new?" he asked.

"Come on, Rob," his friend urged him. "We're late as hell."

But it seemed like he didn't want to leave. And then I felt a pinch at the back of my neck, a sharp sensation like a needle piercing through the air behind me.

I tried to shake off that feeling. I took a step back, lowered my gaze, and stammered, "I... I have to go."

I made it to the office, which was a bit further ahead. I noticed that the door was open, and as I entered, I hoped I hadn't kept the secretary waiting. As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw her silhouette outlined to the side.

I almost jumped.

Rigel was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He had one leg bent, with the sole touching the wall, and his face slightly tilted, with his gaze fixed on the ground.

He had always been much taller than the other boys and quite intimidating, but I didn't need to cling to those justifications to take a step back immediately. Everything about him frightened me, both his appearance and what lay beneath.

What was he doing there, next to the door, when there was a row of chairs just on the other side of the waiting room?

"The principal will see you now," the secretary said, emerging from the principal's office and bringing me back to reality.

"Come."

Rigel moved away from the wall and walked past me without even looking at me. We entered the office as the door closed behind us. The principal, a young, austere, and well-groomed woman, invited us to sit in the chairs in front of her desk. She examined our records, asked us some questions about the teaching method at our previous school, and when she reached Rigel's file, she seemed very interested in what was written there.

"I called your institution," she announced. "I requested some information about your academic performance... and you have pleasantly surprised me, Mr. Wilde," she said with a smile as she turned the page. "High grades, impeccable behavior, nothing out of place. A true model student. Generally, teachers only give positive references for you." She looked up, pleased. "It will be a real pleasure to have you with us at Burnaby."

I wondered if there was any chance that she would understand that she was mistaken, that those references didn't reflect the reality of our experiences.

realize what was "underneath," just like everyone else.

I wished I could gather enough strength to push it out of my lips.

Rigel smiled in that way that suited him so well, and I wondered how people couldn't see that warmth never reached his eyes. That they remained dark and impenetrable, even though they shone like knives.

"The two student representatives waiting outside will accompany you to your classes," the principal said. "In any case, if you want, you can request to be in the same class starting tomorrow."

I had hoped to avoid that question. I gripped the edge of the chair and leaned forward, but he was faster.

"No."

I blinked and turned to him. Rigel displayed a smile, and a strand of hair brushed against one of his dark eyebrows.

"It's not necessary."

"Are you sure? Once it's done, you won't be able to change it."

"Oh, yes. We'll have plenty of time to be together."

"Very well, then," the principal agreed, seeing that I remained silent. "You can go to class now. Follow me."

I averted my gaze from Rigel. I stood up, grabbed my backpack, and followed her outside.

"Two senior students are waiting for you here. Have a good day."

She went back into the office, and I crossed the room without looking back. I had to distance myself from him, and I would have if, at the last moment, a different impulse hadn't seized me. I couldn't hold back when my body turned around on its own and I stood in front of him.

"What does this mean?"

I bit my lips. I had just asked a useless question; it didn't

It didn't take seeing his raised eyebrow to know that he was doing it. But I doubted his intentions; I couldn't believe that he didn't want to find a way to torment me.

"Why?" I asked.

Rigel tilted his head, and his statuesque presence made me feel even more insignificant.

"Didn't you, even for a moment, think... that I wanted to be with you?"

I pressed my lips together and instantly regretted asking him that question. The intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through my stomach, and his sharp irony burned my skin.

I didn't respond. I grabbed the door handle to leave. But something stopped me.

A hand appeared over my shoulder and held the door; I froze. I saw his slender fingers pressing against the frame, and suddenly, every vertebra in my spine felt his presence.

"Get out of my way, moth," he warned me. His warm breath tickled my hair, and I stiffened. "Have you understood?"

The tension generated by his body so close to mine was enough to leave me frozen. He was telling me to "stay away from him," but it was him who had me trapped against that door, breathing down my neck, blocking my path.

Finally, he moved ahead, and I watched him pass by-