Gavin

 Most days Gavin sat in the back of the class drawing on his notebooks while pretending to listen to the teachers drone on and on about their subjects. Not a single one of them had any spark of talent for teaching. The kind that drove them to connect to the young minds sitting in front of them. They were more like encyclopedias filled with expensive knowledge purchased from ivy league schools.

It hadn't bothered him his freshman and sophomore years, but then again, he hadn't known any better. From his first day of school to this one, he'd attended only the most prestigious schools, and every classroom had been filled with clones.

Then, Ms. Spencer managed to slip inside the hallowed halls of Blythe Prep. She was brash and colorful and invested in her students. Just as brilliant as her peers, she had one thing they lacked. The ability to deliver all her hard won knowledge to her students in a way they could comprehend. The spark Gavin carried for learning turned into a bonfire under her careful tutelage, and for the first time, he considered paving his own path in the world rather than follow in his father's footsteps.

He clenched his hands into a fist at the thought of his father. The man delighted in destroying what Gavin loved. All it took was one whispered accusation against Ms. Spencer from the jealous faculty, and she was released from her contract. With no one to fan the flames, the fire inside of Gavin flickered and faded until not even the spark remained. Only dying embers glowing in the ashes, too weak to be of any use.

Now, he was nearing the end of his first semester of senior year- arguably the most important year of high school- and he didn't give a damn. The first day of school brought none of the usual jitters or excitement, and he mastered a level of apathy that proved to frustrate even the most dispassionate of his teachers. He didn't miss the pursed lips or narrowed eyes when they asked for his homework only to be told he hadn't completed it. He had done the work, but then he tossed it in the garbage. Only his excellent test grades were keeping him from failing.

"Mr. Blythe, where is your essay?"

Gavin shook his hair out of his face and looked into the disapproving face of his history teacher. Mr. Lawrence was the worst of the lot. A walking cliche- the Lacrosse coach with a wandering eye, and Gavin would never forget that it was his claim against Ms. Spencer that cost her her position at the school.

"Oh, was that due today?" Gavin asked, leaning back into his chair and stretching his long legs in front of him. A dimple formed in his right cheek as he grinned. "Completely forgot."

"That essay is worth ten percent of your grade."

Gavin widened his eyes and blinked, saying nothing until the teacher walked away with an exasperated sigh. He watched the lumbering man wind down the aisles to pick up the essays, pausing at the new girl's desk. Something moved in Gavin's chest, stirring the embers and ashes of his heart as he saw her tense as all attention turned to her.

"Ms. Stewart, please remain after class to pick up the list of assignments you'll need to complete to be caught up with the rest of the class."

"Yes, Mr. Lawrence," she replied, her voice a harmonious note among the discordant clamoring of the other students.

That was the first thing he'd noticed about her this morning. He hadn't seen her walk in, but he'd heard her as she excused herself through the crowd. Softly spoken words wrapped in silk reached his ears, drawing him out of his thoughts and breaking through Jodie's incessant, high pitched rambling.

He locked on her at once, admiring the coppery curtain of hair that fell forward, blocking her face from his view. She was reed thin, almost waif like next to the other girls, and she seemed to float rather than walk. Perhaps his rapt attention is what spurred Jodie into action.

Never one to be kind, she wasn't typically the type to go out of her way to be cruel. Mostly because that would imply someone was worthy of her time, but Gavin knew she had it in her mind that they were destined to be together. Something about fate and breeding and family names. All things he could care less about, though admitting that out loud would earn more of his father's displeasure than he was willing to take on at the moment. Gavin might hate the man, but he didn't hate the idea of graduating from Harvard without a mountain of debt.

So, he was just as surprised as Jodie when he found himself telling her off for being hateful to the new girl. But the moment he looked into Anne's eyes and found a kindred spirit buried in the mossy green depths, he was shaken to his core, and when he saw the blush spread across her face, a different kind of fire started to burn inside of him.

As luck would have it, the new girl was in all of his classes but one. Anne- he'd seen her write her name across her paper, adding flourishes and hearts around the letters- alternated between paying close attention and drifting off. He could always tell when she was lost to her thoughts because her eyes would become unfocused while she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.

Between classes, she would bump into classmates, sometimes blinking owlishly at them and apologizing. Other times, not noticing their outraged expressions or muttered curses, and he found himself desperate to know what captivated her so well that she could block out everything else. Because he wanted to go there too. To escape it all.

"So, Gavin," Jodie purred, sidling up to him while he put his books in his locker. The final bell rang over the intercom, dismissing the students. "Have you asked anyone to the Mistletoe Ball?"

"Do I ever ask anyone?"

She pouted, and he wondered what she would do if he told her she looked like a fish when she did that. Probably cry, and he wasn't a fan of making people cry just because he was in a mood.

"What is wrong with you today?" she asked, her voice losing some of its syrupy sweetness.

For a second, he imagined putting his head between the door and his locker and banging it over his head repeatedly. Anything to escape this conversation because Jodie would make Anne's life miserable if she so much as thought he might be interested in her.

"Am I not being my usual charming self?" he asked, giving her a wink to smooth away any hurts.

"Well," she said, gripping his arm and leaning in close, "it wouldn't hurt to try a little harder."

Gavin was saved from replying by the arrival of his best friend since first grade. Semaj packed a lot of personality into his five foot seven frame, and sometimes it was overwhelming. Jodie huffed and stepped out of the way as he pushed past her and threw his arm over Gavin's shoulder.

"Dude, did you see the new girl?"

Jodie snorted. "Everyone has seen her. She's kind of hard to miss with all the red hair."

"I had gym with her, and she sat in the outfield picking flowers to put in her hair. She's a freak."

The image of Anne stringing flowers through her hair haunted Gavin. He could imagine the dainty white buds that bloomed on the campus grounds clinging to the red threads, like snowflakes on strawberries. He wanted to pull her close and bury his nose against her skin, drinking in the scent of flowers and fruit.

"Look, here she comes now," Semaj hissed.

He stepped into the nearly empty hallway and blocked Anne's progress. She stopped just before hitting him, clutching her tablet to her chest in surprise. Dreams cleared from her eyes, and she turned pink when she saw Gavin leaning against the lockers. Jodi smirked and circled the girl, and Gavin bit his lip to stop himself from jumping to Anne's defense. Whatever his friends were planning wasn't nice.

"Is that a bug in your hair?" Jodie asked, plucking a petal from Anne's head. She'd woven the red strands into an intricate braid since he last saw her.

"Excuse me. I can't be late getting home."

"Don't worry," Semaj said, "We'll make sure you get home on time. What color would you call this?" He yanked on the end of her braid.

"Hmm, it is very unique, don't you think? What color would you call it Gavin?" Jodie arched a brow at him, testing him.

Anne trembled as she waited for his response. He'd stood up for her earlier, and now, here he stood again- between her and the bullies. He could see the expectation in her eyes, but he could also see the threat in Jodie's.

"I don't know," Gavin croaked, clearing his throat. When he spoke again, it was with his usual, smooth self assuredness. He ran his finger over the braid, thrilling at its satiny texture, but he forced himself to tug on it like Semaj had. "Reminds me of carrots."

The trembling stopped. Anne went rigid as her chin lifted and rage flooded her expression. "You, you, you..." she spluttered, raising her tablet above her head and bringing it crashing down over Gavin's head.

He shouted in shock, stumbling to the side while clutching his skull. Shit, that hurt.

Anne looked at the broken slate in her hand in askance. With a shuddering sob, she threw it the ground and fled.

"Anne Stewart," a teacher who'd witnessed the scene shouted, but Anne didn't stop.

"Gavin, are you okay?" Jodie demanded, running her hands over his head.

"Don't," he snapped, "Just don't."

He slammed his locker door and stormed off in the same direction Anne had flown. His head throbbed. By tomorrow morning, he'd have a knot, but as he climbed into his car, he told himself the pain was less than he deserved.