He Has a Name
1210 Words
Seraphina
Mom refuses to let me come back the next day.
Apparently, “pestering” your mother for four straight hours about enrolling in a school you swore you hated qualifies as suspicious behavior.
So she makes me wait until Monday.
Monday.
Three whole days of thinking about the boy with the cold grey eyes and the voice that sounded like trouble.
Three days replaying the moment he caught me.
Three days wondering if I imagined the whole thing.
Mom also refuses to let me become a full boarder.
Her compromise?
I get a hostel room… but I’m not allowed to officially live there.
“I’m not comfortable with you staying on campus full-time,” she says while signing the papers. “But if you need somewhere to rest between activities, you’ll have the room.”
So technically I have a dorm.
I’m just not allowed to sleep in it.
Makes perfect sense.
Monday morning arrives painfully slowly.
Blackthorn Academy looks exactly the same as it did three days ago.
Grand.
Intimidating.
Expensive enough to buy several small countries.
Students glide across the courtyard in crisp uniforms like they were born inside trust funds… Most of them were, anyway.
Meanwhile, I’m scanning every face like a detective hunting a suspect.
Dark hair.
Grey eyes.
Tall enough to block the sun.
But he’s nowhere.
Not during onboarding.
Not during my campus orientation.
Not during the endless welcome speech from Headmaster Bumblethorpe, whose name still sounds like it belongs in a children’s cartoon.
Can someone tell this man it’s already a month into resumption and no one… not even I… needs a welcome speech?
Nothing.
My excitement slowly turns into irritation.
Then the weekly assembly begins.
Hundreds of students fill the massive hall.
Rows and rows of uniforms.
If he’s here, I need to pay thorough attention to see him. That robs me of experiencing how this whole assembly thing works.
He should be in the final class. But when I search the section, he isn’t. So, I scan every other section too.
Left.
Right.
Balcony.
Back row.
Nothing.
No dark hair with grey eyes.
No boy who catches falling girls and then walks away like it’s nothing.
My stomach sinks.
I stayed here for nothing.
By the time assembly ends, my mood is officially ruined.
Students begin filing toward their classrooms.
I’m halfway down the corridor when someone suddenly appears beside me.
“Hi!”
I turn.
A girl with warm brown skin and bright curious eyes smiles at me like we’re already friends.
“I heard you’re the new girl,” she says. “You’re the girl from last week, right?”
I stare at her.
For a second, I consider responding politely. But the frustration bubbling inside me finds the nearest target.
Unfortunately, that target is her.
“I’m not interested,” I say flatly.
Her smile falters.
“Oh… I just thought…”
“You thought wrong.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
I walk past her before she can respond.
The guilt arrives about three seconds later. But my pride refuses to turn around.
Our classroom is on the second floor.
When I enter, conversations quiet down almost instantly.
Great.
Now I’m the exhibit.
I take a random empty seat near the window.
Students keep stealing glances. Some whisper. Others pretend not to stare while obviously staring. Then the teacher walks in.
Her bun is pulled so tight I’m surprised her eyebrows still move.
“Good morning, class,” she says crisply.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cordelia.” The class responds.
Mrs. Cordelia? But the principal introduced her to me as Mrs Hawthorne earlier in his office as my class teacher.
Whatever!
Her eyes land on me almost immediately.
“And you must be our new student.”
Every head turns in my direction again.
“And you must be a teacher,” I snap in my head; I dare not say that out.
I manage a nod.
“Come to the front, Miss…?”
Oh God! No! Can we not do this?
“Miss?” Her voice hurts my eardrum.
I stand reluctantly and walk forward.
She gestures toward the class. “Please introduce yourself.”
All eyes burn into me.
I cross my arms slightly.
“Seraphina Whitmore.”
Silence falls.
Mrs. Hawthorne blinks.
“That’s… it?”
What the hell does she want from me?
I look up at her. She’s just a bit taller than I am. The silence grows thicker.
Some students exchange looks.
A few snicker quietly.
Mrs. Hawthorne clears her throat.
“Well.”
She turns to the class.
“To avoid awkwardness, let’s do a quick round of introductions. Everyone say your name.”
The students begin one by one.
“Ethan.”
“Clara.”
“Dylan.”
“Marcus.”
Their voices blur together.
I barely listen.
Two names stick, though.
The boy sitting in the front row says confidently,
“Daniel Carter. Class representative.”
Carter? From the popular Carter group?
Then the girl from the hallway stands awkwardly.
“Um… Maya Green.”
Our eyes meet briefly.
She quickly looks away.
Guilt pokes me again.
I ignore it.
The last student finishes introducing himself.
Mrs. Hawthorne nods.
“Once again, I’m Mrs. Cordelia Hawthorne. We have already met, so you know I’m in charge of this class. But I’m also your Literature teacher. Aren’t you excited?”
She’s the one who seems to be excited, the reason for which I don’t know.
I force a smile.
“Wonderful. Miss Whitmore, you may return to your…”
The classroom door suddenly opens.
Every head turns.
A tall figure walks in like he owns gravity.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
Cold grey eyes.
My heart stops.
It’s him.
It’s him.
The boy from the staircase.
The black-haired, grey-eyed boy.
My entire mood flips in an instant.
Like someone turned the sun back on inside my chest.
Wait… why is he here, though? I thought he should be in the final grade. Is he my classmate? Oh! My! God!
I look up at Mrs. Hawthorne, hoping she could save me from what I feel inside. She looks nothing like someone who could…furious.
“Why are you just arriving?” She asks sharply.
He leans casually against the doorframe.
“I enjoy dramatic entrances.”
A few students laugh.
Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression darkens.
“That was not a request for comedy.”
His voice remains calm.
“My apologies, ma’am. Time moves differently for exceptional people.”
The class erupts in laughter.
Even the class rep fails to hide a grin.
Mrs. Hawthorne points toward the door.
“Out.”
He doesn’t argue. He’s already turning to leave like he’s used to it.
Then she snaps, “Wait.”
He pauses and slowly turns back.
“Introduce yourself before you leave…” She says coldly. “... for the benefit of our new student.”
His eyes land on me almost immediately.
Recognition flashes there. For a brief moment, something unreadable, yet scary, flickers in his gaze.
His mouth tilts slightly.
Then he says it in the most dramatic way ever… as if there is a sound effect.
“Lucian Hale.”
My heartbeat spikes.
Finally.
The boy has a name.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD