The Detention Slip

Meeting new people

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello everyone. Thank you for the positive feedback so far, I really appreciate it. Here is a new part, and I want suggestions of looks for the hooded boy. The person whose suggestion I use will get a dedication. ALSO... I NEED IDEAS FOR A NAME. AGAIN PERSON WILL GET A DEDICATION .

HIT VOTE, Thanks again!

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In the small classroom dedicated to detention sat rows of old fashioned desks. The teachers at the front followed by at least thirty smaller desks.  As I pushed open the door, i saw that today this classroom was only occupied by two people, a hooded boy and Mr Harvey, the school's oldest and meanest teacher. He sat at the front, reading a horse racing magazine and listening to a race on his green crackly radio. He had heavy perspiration marks under his armpits and glasses slouched onto his heavily wrinkled nose. He was merciless when it came to excuses and his eyes were like those of a snake, petrifying if you held their gaze for too long. He barely glanced up when I entered, and snatched the slip from me, quickly turning back to his magazine, refocusing his attention onto the commentators voice that came from the radio. 

As I walked to sit down at a desk nearest the door, I saw the hooded boy look up from a heavily doodled piece of paper. I smiled politely, and was amazed when he grinned back. He nodded his head gently to the seat closest to him, and I saw tendrils of his brown hair fall onto his forehead.  I adjusted the satchel that lay across my shoulder and pondered the thought, and slowly weaved my way between desks to the one next to him.

I sat down, trying to meet his gaze. A smile spread onto his features, something that made him look more handsome than I'd first thought. I tried to see the colour of his eyes, but saw nothing as a shadow from his hood hung across his face. 

I watched as he picked up his pen once again, and scrawled something in the margin of the page. He spun the page to face me, and I noticed  that his hands were quite large and seemed like they were capable of both being gentle and causing damage. 

I looked at what he had written and saw his name scrawled there in professional penmanship. I looked up, and mouthed 'Holly', he grinned and mouthed 'Nice name', and a rosy blush, to match my hair, crept to my cheeks at his compliment. 

I sat back in my chair, fiddling with the ends of my hair, and you know that feeling you get, when you catch someone's eye and it seems like they've been staring at you? Well I' had that feeling at least ten times and I had only been in detention for half an hour. Whenever I looked at the boy, his eyes were always on me. I did not know whether to be flattered or creeped out. 

I pulled out my journal from my satchel, and i aimlessly doodled on a page, and through my peripheral vision I saw movement. I watched as the boy stretched, letting the ash blue hood fall from his hair, allowing me to fully assess his looks. He reached up and combed his fingers through his mass of brown hair. I was glad that his hair was left natural and not slicked down by gel like others from our school and I instantly hated myself. Why should I care how this mysterious boy wears his hair? 

I shook my head as if clearing my thoughts, letting my eyes drift over the rest of his features. His skin looked smooth and he had a slight shadow along his jawline. I suddenly became aware of his gaze on me, and I met his eyes. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. His name, those eyes. I knew him.