Indra's Heart

ONE

"I need Andrew Stone and William Everett to report to the principal's office immediately!"

My eyes snap open at the sound of my name being called through the loud, staticky intercom on the ceiling, and the overhead lights temporarily blur my vision. I completed my quiz over twenty minutes ago, and the serenity of the classroom was putting me to sleep. I didn't even need to study super hard for it like I usually do with my schoolwork; it was easy to grasp.

I straighten my posture and raise my eyebrow at Will. He shrugs in response before slinging his bookbag over his shoulder, grabbing his quiz, and walking over to Mrs. Baxter's cluttered desk.

Following his lead, I push my chair in, wincing at the shrill sound of the legs scraping against the streaked tile. A few sighs of annoyance are released behind me, so I whip around to issue a quick apology. However, before any words leave my mouth, her pretty green eyes send me into a stupor.

"My bad." I breathe.

The smile that spreads across her painted lips is merciful, and her index fingers are promptly removed from her ears. The white v-neck encasing her petite form contrasts with her sand-colored skin, and a silver necklace rests between the swell of her breasts. Today her hair is big with loose curls that frame her perfectly made-up face. It's been bleached honey blonde, starkly different from her natural brunette tresses. She doesn't have any flaws. Anybody could see that. Everybody does see that.

"It's okay, Andrew." Soft and cheery, her voice is the embodiment of femininity.

I simply nod, lingering long enough to see her attention return to her quiz. Grabbing the sheet of paper off of my own desk, I hand it to Mrs. Baxter — an older woman with pale skin, short hair that's nearly white, and thick spectacles that rest on the tip of her beak-like nose — and tuck my upper lip between my teeth in anticipation for my score.

One hundred percent.

The heavy wooden door dismisses me into the empty hallway and my energy shifts, no longer feeling suffocated under the twenty-plus other students' potential scrutiny. Now I can fully grin over the real prize of today. Something that's better than winning a glazed dessert at the county fair, but still just as sweet.

Arya Moore talked to me.

The girl that I've had a crush on since the first day that I saw her, back in the eighth grade. She gets straight A's just like me, and we've shared at least one class together for five consecutive years. Words have never been directly exchanged between us though.

Not until today.

"Damn, I can see all yo' teeth," Will quips, bending the corner.

"The office is the other way." I deflect, pointing with my chin.

"Man, he called both of us." He shrugs. "Which means I'm not goin' alone. And had I rushed, I would've missed out on you being all flustered over that girl."

"Whatever." I push past him, and his laughter echoes down the corridor. Our homeroom door swings open and Mrs. Baxter pokes her head out, scowling deeply.

"Gentlemen, get going before I give you both detention!" she commands before slamming it shut.

Will sucks his teeth and strolls beside me, pulling out a hairbrush from the front of his pants.
"What did you get on that quiz?"

"A hundred." I smirk. "What did you get?"

"A seventy-three." He runs the bristles across his head in a forward motion before pocketing the object again. "A passing grade is a passing grade."