Saving Eileen

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

It took me about twenty seconds after stepping into the school to realize that there was no way I'd be able to safely navigate through the sea of tall-asses.

It's easy, I said. I can find the class on my own, I said. Initially, Artie had offered to show me the way, but after spending enough time with him already, I declined. Perhaps I should've taken him on his offer.

My phone buzzed and I opened the text from my aunt.

Aunt Deb: Good luck sweetie! I know you'll be great. :)

A buzz of warmth spread from my chest and a barely established smile comes to my face. I send my reply when someone's shoulder clips me and my phone goes flying. I scramble to catch it, but the next thing I knew, there was a thump, followed by a very loud, "Ow, shit!"

I barely catch myself from falling over someone. Not that I'd do much damage to them being five-foot-two.

The guy looked up at me from where he was knelt at his locker, rubbing the back of his head with one hand, holding my phone in the other. "I take it, this is yours?" Handing my phone out, I quickly tucked it in my bag.

"Yeah, it-" I begin to apologize but stop mid-sentence as he stands up to his full height. "I'm really sorry about that. Some jerk decided not to watch where they were going and shoulder checked me."

Nice one. Why not add assault to your list of issues, Hurst?

He let out an amused chortle. "Yeah, it's pretty much a madhouse during this time. Not to worry though, my moms dropped me only a hundred times as a kid and I turned out fine. I can survive one phone melee attack to the head. Unless I'm already dead and this is my Hell." He tapped his chin as he looked around skeptically.

The guy oozed friendliness. Not in the way Dara was - slightly eccentric, hyper, and the human form of an espresso order - but in a natural, approachable way. He was tall, but not quite six feet, with chestnut brown hair slightly disheveled. His green eyes were still filled with sleepiness.

"Tell me about it. I think that guy might be on steroids." I winced, moving my shoulder around. "Again, I'm really sorry. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to try to once again lose myself in this pandemonium and somehow find room 321."

"Ah, you have Mr. Dicktor's class. I don't know whether to fear for you or pity you."

"That's not his actual name, I hope," I said.

He shook his head, smirking. "It's what I call him. I had him last year and he hated us; me in particular. He thought we were all idiots." He pointed down the hall. "It's the room just before the last on the right. Just follow the stench of the death of the other students' sanity. When the hope start returning, you've passed it."

"Thanks." I waved my good-bye as I walked off.

Stepping into the room, I saw a few eyes following me as I walked to the teacher's desk. The man behind the desk looked like the room was the last place he wanted to be in. In his late forties, with salt and pepper colored hair, his grey-blue eyes barely looked up from the book he was reading when I approached.