Part 3

The temperature outside had risen to almost sixty-five degrees by mid-afternoon, making the small English classroom, stuffed to the brim with kids, feel more like eighty. Everyone was either slumped over, or leaning back, trying in vain to catch the tiny breeze that slipped through the only window in the room. Some of the guys were pulling their shirts from their chests to keep the sweat from forming, while many of the girls had constructed paper fans from loose leaf. Restlessness was in the air, and there was never an absence of movement in the class. Feet shuffled, throats cleared, paper rustled…the kids in room 104 seemed to be doing everything but listening, every body waiting anxiously for the last bell.

Mr. Williams was pacing up and down the rows of desks, holding Shakespeare’s play in one hand and tapping it with the other. The sleeves on his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie lay forgotten on his desk. Two buttons had been pulled from his collar, and his hair had fallen from its gel-like mold into somewhat of a messy lump on his head, which became more disheveled every time he ran a hand through it. He was obviously feeling the heat too, you could tell from the way he was arrayed, but it didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable like the rest. Not one drop of sweat could be seen on his face, and his movements were anything but sluggish.

“So, as you can see, even Shakespeare was a fan of the Dark Ages. Macbeth was one of his most famous works, and it took place solely during the age of knights.”

As the tall man walked down the father aisle, Roxanne let his words fade from her hearing. Her head hurt, and her chair was sticking uncomfortably into her back. 'Macbeth' lay unopened on her desk, next to a blank piece of paper and an untouched pencil. It was so hard to concentrate with the heat and the pain in her head, not to mention the fact that Nicholas was right behind her.

They had waved to each other on the way into the class, and the boy had even given her a secret wink, but that had been it. Roxanne wanted so much to turn around and start a conversation, just to make sure his impression of her hadn’t been swayed. Her comment yesterday afternoon could have very easily changed his idea of her, and she didn’t want that. All last night she had thought about it, sometimes hating herself, and sometimes daring a smile. Maybe that greeting wink had meant -

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and Roxanne instantly came back to the humid classroom. From behind her a tanned hand reached over to her desk, dropping a folded piece of paper. Glancing at her teacher, who was still over on the other side of the room, Roxanne decided to chance a look at Nicholas.

He was leaning on his elbows, head cupped in his hands, smiling at her. The weather didn’t seem to effect him in the least, and his green shirt didn’t have the soggy hang to it that many of the other garments in the room had acquired. He looked quite at home in the heat as he nodded to the paper on her desk, mouthing, ‘read it.’

She turned back to her desk, letting her mouth turn up a little at the corners. How did he do it? The minute she had seen his face, the headache and humidity had instantly evaporated, leaving nothing but a joyful comfort in its place. Better than any medicine, cooler then water.

It was his eyes, she realized, that soothed. The way they seemed to just invite you in, opening wide to what he was thinking. No wonder she couldn’t lie to his face. It would be like striking an outstretched hand.

Quietly opening the note, Roxanne followed the flowing handwriting. “Doesn’t Mr. Williams look cute today? Very rugged, without that tie.” Closing her eyes and sighing, the girl couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to play like that? Fine, she could do that to.

Scribbling something next to his writing, she crumpled the paper again and set it behind her. She could hear him take the composition and unfold it, quietly, just as she had done.

A short burst of laughter came from behind her head after a minute of silence. Obviously he had liked her comment about the teacher’s hair looking like a dead raccoon. Just imagining what his face must look like made Roxanne’s shoulders lift in a giggle as well, and everyone knows what happens when you try to stifle laughter. Soon the girl and boy were doing all they could to keep their mouths shut.

From the other side of the classroom, Mr. Williams’s head turned. He saw the two students over in the last seats biting their lips in laughter. That new boy, the tall blond one, held one hand causally over his mouth. The teacher didn’t like the way the kid looked so comfortable so quickly. His body language was too easygoing, too smart. He probably thought he was hot stuff, some kind of California idiot with a bronzed face and no brains. What business did he have laughing over there, with *her*?

“Nicholas, right? Nicholas…why don’t you help us out here? Why do you suppose Shakespeare had black and white knights in his literature?”

Nicholas looked up, swallowing his laughter quickly. Mr. Williams was walking over, slowly, eyebrows raised in a question. The book wasn’t in his fingers anymore, and his hands were resting easily in his pockets.

“Black and white knights? I don’t really remember any reference to black or white anything in Macbeth."

Some laughter raised from the slumped bodies in the classroom. Nicholas was watching the teacher now, smile still touching his lips. He hadn’t meant the comment as a snide remark, but it seemed as though Mr. Williams had taken it that way.

“Is that so?” The teacher narrowed his eyes slightly, very slightly.

“Well, yeah. I thought the play was more about inner evil…and what guilt can do to a person, you know? I don’t think it really focused on knights, or the middle ages even, at all. It could have happened anywhere, at any time.” Nicholas leaned back in his chair, matching the teacher’s stare with an easy manner. “It was more about the characters.”

“I’m guessing that you’ve read this before, then? Since you seem to be such an expert.”

“In my Junior year, we did.” Nicholas either didn’t care, or didn’t notice the darkening of Mr. Williams’s demeanor.

“Well then, why don’t you just flatter me and pretend you never read it, so we can open the discussion to kids who want to learn, okay? And while you’re at it, answer the questions I ask the *right* way.” Mr. Williams was now towering over Roxanne and Nicholas, arms crossed over his chest, hazel eyes sharp like a cat ready to pounce.

Roxanne’s hands pulled at each other under her desk. All laughter had fled from her body as soon as Mr. Williams had entered the conversation. She could feel his tension along with the rest of the class, who were now sitting up straight and watching the first interesting thing to happen all day.

“The *right* way? What’s the *right* way to answer a question?”

Nicholas still held his casual pose, but something around his jaw had tightened. His head was tilted just slightly, and his eyes were looking questioningly at the teacher. He took the advance head on, unlike many other kids, who would have ducked their eyes the minute it was apparent a teacher was starting something. Especially a teacher like Mr. Williams, who had been known to get rough around the edges when aggravated.

“Roxanne, why don’t you tell our new student the right way to answer something?”

Oh God. She felt his gaze on her like a heat wave. The humidity had come back in full force, pressing on her heart like a ton of bricks. Her lips became cement, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. She was frozen in fear. Fear of what he would do to her if she said the wrong thing, and fear of what he would do if she said nothing at all.

“I see. Well then, if you won’t, I will.”

Leaning down, Mr. Williams placed his hands on Nicholas’s desk. His face got inches away from the boy’s, and Roxanne could hear his breathing from her seat.

“I don’t like your attitude, Nicholas. But I know we’ve just met, so I’m willing to let this incident go. Just be warned,” He looked towards the smallish girl, who was slumped down in her seat, eyes moving nervously, “I don’t want your attitude rubbing off on others. Get me?”

“Loud and clear.” Nicholas’s jaw was tight, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from saying anything else. He held his hands, palms up, towards the teacher, never unlocking his eyes. He didn’t seem worried, or nervous. Not even uncomfortable, just, taunt.

“Good.”

The bell blared way too loud as the teacher straightened up. The other kids slowly gathered up the books and tiptoed out of the room, whispering to each other. Roxanne didn’t move.

The boy let his eyes linger on the teacher for a moment longer, jaw still frozen. Then he picked up his book and his bag from the floor. Dropping 'Macbeth' into the zippered pocket, he eyed Mr. Williams quickly. Then he stood.

“Roxanne, let’s get out of here.”

And they did. Fast. She grabbed her bag, stood up, and followed Nicholas out of the room, eyes never leaving her hands. She didn’t dare look at the teacher. She knew his eyes were following her, and she knew his mouth was tight.

She knew he would get them back.

The clamor of idle conversation hit the two teens as they walked into the hallway. Kids everywhere were rushing towards their lockers, flying down steps, sliding down banisters, anything to get out of the school faster. The air was cooler and less dense in the hallway, and Roxanne could finally start to breathe normally. Looking up for the first time since Room 104, she noticed that Nicholas was slowing his pace, turning slightly, so she could get beside him.

“Meet you in the parking lot?”

“Oh, uh…yeah. Sure.”

Roxanne had almost forgotten about that. She watched as Nicholas walked backward down the corridor that held his locker, tapping his watch and smiling just slightly. It wasn’t one of his freer grins, but at least he *could*. Roxanne was still trying to keep her face from crumbling into tears.

Her fingers shook for a brief moment as they turned the dial for her locker. Reaching inside the blue bin, she grabbed the first book that touched her hand. There wasn’t time to stop and think about homework. Not like her brain could focus anyway.

“Hey Roxy, what’s up with Mr. Williams acting all psycho today?”

Whipping around, the girl came face to face with classmate David Levitt. He was hitching his backpack better on his shoulders with Macbeth still clutched in his left hand. A baseball cap was pulled backward over his black hair and a gym bag lay by his feet. Nice kid, David, great athlete and full of school spirit, but not much of an English fan. Mr. Williams was forever telling him to pay attention, or to just ‘listen for once!’ The thing was, David *did* listen, but the teacher thought he was such a lost cause that he didn’t want to waste the energy. Roxanne knew he sympathized whenever Mr. Williams harassed someone.

“I have no idea.” Shutting her locker softly, Roxanne tried to look a happier then she felt.

“He really flipped on that Nicholas kid…”

“Yeah…”

“But I’m glad someone finally had the balls to stand up to that fuck. I can’t stand the guy...If California Boy hadn’t done it, I would have…someday.”

“Why do you call him that?”

Roxanne had started down the steps, and was looking over the banister at David as he traveled with her. He was such a character, dragging his huge bag down the stairs and trying to look at her at the same time, the girl couldn’t help but feel just a little better.

“’Cause he's a fuck. I hate the way he prances around the classroom and wears that shitty cologne all the time. It makes me sick -” Almost tripping over the strap on his bag, David looked down quickly and caught himself, grabbing the banister before he took a nose dive.

“No,” Roxanne was chuckling a little now, “I mean *Nicholas*. Why do you call him California Boy?”

“Oh. Just because he looks like it. I don’t know, the blond hair, and whatever. ‘Just doesn’t look like he belongs in this shit hole of a town.”

They had reached the bottom level and David took a second to rest, leaning against the wall and righting his cap on his head. Before he had time to join Roxanne on her way out the door, three more guys came round a corner and called his name. Roxanne’s sympathizer turned in their direction.

“Yo, Sully, Andrew, wait up!” He looked over at Roxanne and waved. “Hey, don’t worry about Jerk-off, okay? California Boy will back ‘ya up. He could take him anyway, he’s like seven feet tall!”

Roxanne waved back and then pushed herself through the door, shaking her head. She could still hear David in the lobby, calling after his friends and dragging that hunk of a bag through the hallway.

The sun hit her face as soon as she started to walk towards the parking lot. It felt wonderful. As she opened her coat and let the rays warm her body, she started to think about David’s comment.

‘Just doesn’t seem like he belongs in this shit hole of a town…He was right. Nicholas didn’t blend in here. This small New England town could have no way produced such a boy. Tall, blond, *open*…no, Nicholas didn’t come from here.

He was lying on top of his car, arms behind his head; sunglasses pulled over his eyes. The girl walked closer, trying to make as little noise as possible. His feet almost fell over the end of the sleek bumper, and his hair moved just slightly as the breeze toyed with it. Measuring her footsteps and breathing, Roxanne snuck towards the passenger side window.

“What would be better, red or black?”

Nicholas moved nothing but his mouth. So much for sneaking up.

“What?”

“Red or black? Should I trade this baby in for another color?”

“Your car? No…I like it this way.”

“Yeah?” Licking his lips and pushing himself up, Nicholas turned to her, smiling.

“Why would you want to trade this in?”

“Just because…” The boy jumped down off the roof and landed right in front of her. Pushing his glasses off his eyes and over his hair, he gazed out into the parking lot. “I think it kinda sticks out.”

“That’s the point. I like it *because* it sticks out. It’s beautiful compared to the normal ones.”

*Just like it’s owner*, Roxanne thought as she watched Nicholas. He took the keys out of his shirt pocket and unlocked her door, running his hand absently over the silver siding. He seemed to be thinking about something…maybe something more then just his car?

“Maybe.”

Shaking his head and hitting the roof, the boy turned to Roxanne and winked, signaling the end of that conversation. He walked over to his door and ducked inside, sticking the keys in the ignition and revving the engine. Looking over at his passenger, he raised his eyebrows smacked his gum, donning a mischievous grin. “Ready?”

The silver car sped down the driveway to the school, windows wide and music - jazz this time - hitting the wind loudly. Inside the vehicle, Roxanne laughed. Really laughed. Letting the afternoon’s past endeavors disappear from her mind, if only for a little while.

The driver, sunglasses shielding his eyes and mouth grinning crookedly, seemed as happy as his passenger did. But underneath the black lenses, Nicholas’s eyes were not as soft as one might suppose. And if one looked closely, they could see his jaw tighten below that carefree smile.

Not angry. Just…

Taunt.

Part 4