MILA 2.0 0.5 - Origins: The Fire by Driza Debra

Author:Driza, Debra [Driza, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Retail
Amazon: B00AMOC5Z2
Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books
Published: 2013-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

FOUR

When the lunch bell rang, I decided to ditch the hordes of ravenous students and head outside. Even on a good day, I hated the cafeteria, with its crowds and fluorescent glare—every time I walked inside, I instantly felt on display. And after Parker’s extreme cattiness earlier, well…let’s just say my enthusiasm for group dining had fallen to an all-time low.

I reached the door that led to my escape path, to the lone bench in the completely ignored courtyard. No other kids to deal with there, just a patch of grass, three overgrown trees, and a slightly lopsided rendition of the school’s cartoon lion mascot.

When I pushed open the door, frigid air blasted my cheeks. The news had called for an uncharacteristically dreary fall week, and so far, the weather was cooperating. A bonus for me, since chill and drizzle never bothered me but seemed to lock the rest of the student body inside.

Well, all except for one.

The door clattered shut behind me, a noise that announced my arrival with gunshot subtlety to the lone figure commandeering my spot.

I inspected him from behind drooping tree branches, completely conscious of the curious eyes peering back at me through a kaleidoscope of red-orange-brown. Hunter didn’t sit on the bench like a normal person. Instead he perched on top of the backrest, his feet planted against the blue boards that made up the seat. His jacket hood was pulled up over his head, his elbows balanced on his knees. Cradled between his hands was a battered comic. So much for those papers he had to fill out.

Okay…now what? I scanned the tiny oval courtyard for potential escape routes, for any other seating destination that wouldn’t make me look like a giant stalker. But there was nothing, unless I fancied sitting on the wet grass or the dirty and equally wet concrete—neither of which were particularly tempting.

Just when I’d decided that waving and then bolting for the door would be my least embarrassing option, Hunter spoke from beneath his olive hood.

“Did I steal your spot?”

“Technically, no. I mean, it’s not my spot. It belongs to the school.”

Heat rushed into my cheeks. Wow. Okay, so yes, technically my words were true, but that didn’t mean I had to go all dork and say them.

Hunter’s soft laugh floated through the courtyard, loosening the knot in my stomach. A second later, my laugh joined his. “I come out here to get away sometimes, but obviously you were here first, so I’ll just leave,” I said.

He scooted over to the far edge of the bench, leaving a gaping expanse of blue wood on the side closest to me. “Plenty of room.”

I caught my lower lip with my teeth. Tempting. Especially considering the alternative—the sense of isolation that ironically grew more pronounced in a crowd. “You sure?”

He shrugged, a rise and fall of broad shoulders meant to convey disinterest. Only his fingers gave him away. They drummed against his knee, hinting at whatever lurked beneath his seemingly apathetic exterior.

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