Untitled Chapter 6 (Pinky Promise)

    “Truth be told,” Amy tells me on Monday while we’re sitting in the courtyard. “I think that guy is a little creepy.”
    I follow her gaze even though I know who she’s talking about. Of course, there Michael is, staring right at me.
    “Come on, I can’t be hit on just once.” I joke, even though my insides are squirming.
    “He doesn’t stop staring at you.” She tells me seriously, which in itself should have been enough to tell me that she’s really worried. “And last night at the library he left as soon as we did.”
    What?! I wanted to ask and demand more information.
    “It was just a coincidence.” I pretend to shrug it off.
    “Lia--”
    “Amy, it’s fine.” I tell her, looking at her with a forced, slightly incredulous smile.
    It’s not like me to lie when I’m freaked out, but there’s something different this time. When I remembered that my cousin had molested me as a kid, I’d immediately gone up to Amy’s house to tell her about it. When I’d been raped and found out I was pregnant, I’d gone straight to her too. And right before the abortion, I’d called her to come with me. So why am I lying to her now?
    I have no idea.
    I never told her about the shadows because they’re so supernatural and nobody else can see them. It seemed that they’re bigger than the biggest problems a human being can have, and that’s way scarier than one could ever imagine. And Michael, well, he was a part of what’s going on with the shadows.
    “Look if anything freaky happens, you’ll be the first to know.” I say, hoping it’ll satisfy her.
    “Pinky promise.” She challenges, holding out her pinky finger to me.
    I feel my stomach squirming, knowing fully well that pinky promises are to the grave for me--and I’ll be breaking this one.

***

    “Good morning.” Michael says to me in his quiet, velvety voice when I slide into my seat.
    I hate how intense he is. His looks, the way he talks, the way he’s not ashamed of staring someone directly in the eyes, even when saying something as normal as “good morning.” What I hate more is the way my body responds--heart jumps, face turns cold before hot, hands begin to sweat.
    What’s wrong with me?
    Usually, after a big blowout with someone--like what had happened with Michael yesterday--I ignore them, but if they initiate conversation with no hard feelings, then I just ignore what had happened.
    So I let a smile flit across my face, barely turning to look at him and then, thankfully, Mr. Hoffman starts class. I notice that Erin and Gabby aren’t in their seats.
    “You look tired.” Michael says softly to me.
    “I slept late last night.” I lie as I try to copy down the notes and examples Mr. Hoffman is writing on the chalk board. “I saw you at the library.” When I glance at him, he’s just looking at me and I look back at the board. “Were you following me?” My tone stays nonchalant, as if I’m not interested.
    He doesn’t answer and I try a new angle.
    “What were you doing there?”
    “Watching over you.” He replies simply. As if that’s all there is to it.
    “Briana, could you trade seats with Lia.” Mr. Hoffman orders more than asks.
    Bri, not looking too troubled collects her things as I do mine and we trade seats.
    For the rest of the period, I watch Bri flirt with Michael. And I watch Michael watching me.