Chapter Eight

                                    

                                          
"Mr Parrish. Why are you here?"
                          
Carter stared at Mrs Abrahams blankly, dazed at the surprise in her tone. Seth shot him a neutral look from his side.
                          
As usual, they had come in a few seconds after the bell, when their peers were already settling down in their seats. Mrs Abrahams simply pulled her glasses off her nose, letting them dangle from the thin metal chain around her neck, to stare at Carter.
                          
"Uhm, what?" He finally asked, a little lost.
                          
All the teacher had to do was arch an eyebrow at him to jog up his memory. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His classmates started looking up curiously as he began backing into the door. 
                          
"I forgot," he drawled. 
                          
"Clearly." 
                          
"Right, uhm—" Carter looked at Seth. His face didn't give much away, but Carter could tell he was interested. "Kinda in the wrong class," he explained quietly, holding by the door. 
                          
"Not kind of, Mr Parrish. You are," Mrs Abraham's said firmly. "Now, if you please, let Mr Queens get to his own class and close the door on your way out. Quickly too. Mr Thomas has an infamous distaste for late arrivals."
                          
Seth smiled subtly at the look Carter shot him before he rushed out Mrs Abraham's classroom, shutting the door behind him. He sped down the hallway, turned a right and hurried to a door in the middle of the next hallway, to the left. He knocked. There was no reply so he tentatively turned the doorknob and pushed the door open just a little. 
                          
"Uhm, may I?"
                          
Mr Thomas was a young man. For the average of the school staff at least. He always wore a variety of neutral-colored shirts, buttoned up to the very last button and tucked into khakis. Through his thick, black-framed glasses, lens-distorted eyes found Carter's, disapprovingly. The man was already facing the board, chalk in hand, half-written expression scribbled down in tiny math-teacher writing. 
                          
"Just come inside, Mr Parrish," was all he said before going back to writing on the board. Carter pursed his lips slipping into the classroom. He stared at the teacher, hovering at the front of the room awkwardly. 
                          
"Unlike your football games, my classes generally start on time and I do not enjoy disturbances. If you could find a seat and try to catch up, that would be great," Mr Thomas said without lifting his eye line from the board.
                          
Carter's lips parted, taken aback.
                          
He let his eyes search the classroom for the first time. Melanie was right there in the first row. She smiled a small encouraging smile at him, before focusing back on what she was copying. A few rows behind her, Carter found Johnny. He held his gaze there for a couple of seconds as he moved to a seat, hoping Johnny would lift his eyes from his notebook and smile at him too. That didn't happen. Carter pulled back one of the only two available chairs and tried to shrink inconspicuously in the back row. 
                          
"Hi."
                          
Carter whipped his head to the side to find a pale, dark-haired, light-eyed boy staring at him. His whisper had been so quiet Carter wasn't even sure he'd even heard it. But those big blue eyes were definitely looking at him.
                          
Carter let his own gaze sweep the length of the other boy. He wore a white button-down shirt, which was unusual on its own for a high school kid, but it was the slightly too-big head and the dopey smile that stirred Carter's memory. He had definitely seen him before. 
                          
"I'm Roy," the kid muttered, so low under his breath he was practically mouthing it. "Bella's friend." Right. "And Lauren's boyfriend," Roy saw fit to add. Proudly, too. "You have Spanish with her. First period."