The girl who saves werewolves

2. Yearbook

I still wonder what made me do it. Probably aneurysm or maybe mom had dropped me on my head when I was a baby. There was no logic behind it but I still walked to Alex Montgomery and placed my yearbook in front of him. He was alone. He looked startled with his slightly parted lips and deer in the headlight eyes. Ok, it wasn't aneurysm. I just found it funny how he turned into a pudding when he had to face me alone.

"Would you like to sign this?" I asked and gave him a sweet smile.

You should have seen him. Poor boy.

Finally, he was able to form words and not just weird goat-like sounds.

"Do you have a pen?" he asked making sure not to meet my eyes.

Sure I had a pen. Unlike Alex Montgomery, I came to class prepared. He on the other hand never had a pen and hardly ever carried his books with him. He didn't need to worry about things like that. The girls around him would gladly borrow theirs. I dug one out from my bag and placed it next to the yearbook. It was one of those pens, that had an ispirational quote or text printed on it. This one was pink with golden letters: Smarter than you think. I felt like laughing but bit my lip.

Before taking it, he took a glance around. No, Alex, they are not around, I thought and he came to the same conclusion.

He opened the book and placed the pen on a blank space. Before he started to write, Alex placed his free hand on the book. It blocked me from seeing what he wrote. It wasn't a lot though, because after a few letters he slammed the book shut. He didn't look at me as he took his backpack and mumbled, "Got to go." 

As I watched his back disappear from the classroom, I had no idea how big a mistake it had been to ask him to sign my yearbook.

I opened the book and searched for his writing.

I'll remember you.

I shut to book and stuffed it back into my backpack.

That night, I found it hard to fall asleep. There was a clock on my wall, next to the bookshelf full of Austen and Bronte. Never before had it bothered me, but that night its ticking sound was incredibly loud. I wouldn't have been surprised, had it woken up my parent across the hallway. Even the smallest voices woke my mom up. 

Tick tick tick.

The whole room echoed. The ticking jumped from wall to wall.

I had to get up. I took the clock off the wall and removed the batteries. I smiled listening to the silence. That's better. 

I pulled the blanket back. 

I had to kick it off again. It was too heavy. It would squeeze me paper-thin.

"How dares he?" I whispered. The yearbook was still in my backpack. I hadn't touched it and I decided to stay as far away from it as possible. 

I'll remember you. 

Even without the yearbook, I could see his messy handwriting - the dot that looked more like a comma.

I know, it's my own fault he wrote anything on it, but still, his arrogance agitated me. 

"I'll remember you," I snorted. He'd remember his ignorant and idiotic words to me? Or the raunchy gestures he made near me when his homies where insight? 

 I could also see his other hand covering the page. He hadn't wanted me to read it there in front of him. 

That short sentence did more to me than every disrespectful word had spoken during middle and high school. For the first time, I admitted Alex Montgomery affected me. Why couldn't he have just written something ping pong related? Something expected. Something that didn't make me feel so... I didn't even have a word for what I was feeling.

If I'd fall asleep now, I'd get four hours to sleep, I counted. That'd be better than nothing.

I got up again. Placed the batteries back in the clock and hang it on the wall.

Tick tick tick.

I hated that clock. It made sleeping impossible. 

But it gave a logical reason for not sleeping.