Angel Tears {#Wattys2015}

Chapter III

Hey Guys,
Just wanted to ask what are some good posting times?
I'll have this whole week to work on the book because our school has one more week of break!
Hehehe! Anyways the amount of reads I have already gotten are amazing!!
Please keep voting and reading and tell me what you think!
Lol (lots of love)
Angela
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The look on his face was priceless, and the flush on his cheeks equally so. I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain from laughing and looked away. Mr.Nilsson assigned Calyx a seat, handed him the textbook he all-but worshipped, and the new-kid was handed a first class ticket to reality. He was now another face in the crowd, and would start acting like one. Or so I thought. Turns out, he had no intention to do so. We were learning about the migration of ions, and Mr.Cocky Mc.Kiss-up had already proceeded to tell the teacher how he already knew this and it was elementary and he would be oh-so delighted to show us how the experiment was properly conducted. And being the first breathing creature who had ever shown Mr.Nilsson a single ounce of passion for the class, he had the teacher practically drooling all over him. That made it Mr.Nilsson, and all of the other girls in the class. And I'm pretty sure two of the guys too. As if it wasn't enough, Mr.Nilsson decided it would be to my greater benefit if this "talented young man" were to be my lab partner. The experiment went rather like our relationship, it was ugly, gruesome, and didn't look like it was going to get better. Of course it was my fault because I poured too much of the Ammonia in which could have caused an explosion. Not because he was looking at his reflection on the test tube and acting completely oblivious towards my existence.

I couldn't stand him, and I didn't have to ask him to know he felt the same. Finally, finally, Chemistry was over, and never had I been so happy to go to my next class. It wasn't that History of the Arts was especially intriguing, but it would be a whole hour away from him. Or so I thought.
The History of the Arts, or HOT-A classroom was the classroom that even the teachers complained about, but not a move was ever made to fix it. Filled from head to toe with cheap remakes of Van Gogh's, Matisse's, and many others including unknown artists of bears eating sharks, which the teacher described as a wonderful display of kafkaesque brutality. Ah yes, and the teacher was quite something as well. Madam Yolanda Kraffkow, known to most as Yodel-landa, never entered the room without Picasso, her parrot, and always wore a long violet cloak that trailed behind her. She prided herself on being able to identify (almost) any artist by their paint-strokes, and baked biscuits for the class every Tuesday. I wish I could say that her class was equally interesting, but I wouldn't know since I spent most of it sleeping.

This time, there was no sleeping in the schedule because "Gorgeous", as he so modestly had called himself had deigned the class with his presence. I suppressed a groan and sat as far away from the empty seat that he would inevitably take as she could. This was beyond annoying. Out of all the other girls who would give an arm to have two classes with him, it was me. It was funny how I had known him around two hours, never had a civilised conversation with him, and yet the mere sound of his voice made my stomach sink. He sat down and was instantly swarmed by guys, all leaning over, waiting for his next word as if their life depended on it. I pushed away a twang of jealousy at the ease with which he made friends, telling myself that she wouldn't want them anyways. I felt a pair of eyes trained on me, and as I turned around I was greeted by a scowl from him. I smiled back, just to irritate him, and rolled my eyes as soon as I turned around, but the feeling of his eyes boring into my back remained. Madam Yolanda arrived, Picasso nestled on her shoulder, and began lecturing the class on the hidden genius of a French painter who only ever painted one cow, and killed himself after the cow's death. My dear blonde friend agreed full-heartedly, and soon he had stolen Madame Yolanda's heart as well.

Soon, I got sick of it so I joined the conversation. "Honestly, I understand the tragedy, but please Madam, it's a cow. You could draw a better cow" I said, knowing that Madam was nowhere near immune to compliments. Before she could reply, Calyx stepped in and growled "I understand your amateurish thoughts on the pieces but the hidden meaning is much deeper than some cow..it touches on love, and humanity" he concluded. "Oh please" I said, completely forgetting that we were in a class. "Humanity? I hope not, 'cause if it is, I think the whole human population is screwed. But if you think so, be our guest and go ahead, find yourself a cow buddy and unlock your inner humanity" I spat the last word out, and sniggers flew around the room. I saw Madam Yolanda almost beside herself at the two students participating in her class. An awkward silence filled the room, only interrupted by Yodel-landa's enthusiastic clapping. As soon as it had announced the start of class, the final bell rang, and I was almost sad to hear it go off. Almost. As I collected my unused textbooks Calyx walked by. "It's not over, we're just getting started" he growled, and a shiver sprinted down my spine.