Hell's Angel: Section Three

I was extremely startled when Aidyn Thiessen sat down beside me in art class in a small flurry of black and faint cologne. I knew he was in my math class, too, but he’d sat in the corner in the back, and I hadn’t dared to even make eye contact then. Now I ducked my head and furtively glanced around the room, searching for the empty seats.

Oh. That explained it – the only other empty seat was beside Brock. Brock the Jock. I nearly opened my mouth to congratulate Aidyn for staying away from him, but I caught myself and went back to drawing.

Done and bored around fifteen minutes later, restless today, I started rearranging my pencil crayons by color, challenging myself to not look over to my right…

Dang it. Mr. Kiper had to come and ruin my record. He came to Aidyn’s desk and looked at his drawing, and gave him the customary “Good work” bit, but I could tell he was impressed by the slight deepening of the wrinkles at his eyes.

Aidyn had the slightest skeptical air about him as Mr. Kiper walked back up front. I giggled and ventured to speak. “Mr. Kiper is like that. A lot of the kids in here just want a slack class.” I paused a bit, then couldn’t resist. “Can I see your picture? Oh! I still have your pen!”

Aidyn frowned at me, and said clearly and lowly, “No. And may I have my pen back now, please, thank you.”

That didn’t stop me. I grinned at him. “Let me see and I’ll give you your pen.”

Aidyn’s frown grew. “Give me my pen, please,” he said with clenched teeth.

I almost changed my mind, but I couldn’t resist one last plea. “Pleeeaasseee?” Then I wondered if I had pushed him too far when his expression darkened, eyes narrowing. I had to make an effort not to flinch.

He finally gave, eyes blank, and I gave him the pen, taking the sketchpad and holding it in two hands.

I could hardly believe my eyes. I had never seen anyone draw so good in my entire life…I almost whimpered. It wasn’t fair. I could never draw like that in a thousand years, even with actual schooling.

The picture was dark; I had to be careful not to touch the paper so I wouldn’t smudge the pencil. There was a boy on his hands and knees, only he looked more like an angel, because he had wings. I was a little puzzled, though…his wings were black, and he was crying, and he was wounded. I unconsciously swallowed a lump in my throat.

Then I took a second, closer look at the boy’s face, and my eyes widened when I realized who I was looking at. The boy looked exactly like Aidyn, only maybe a younger version, and with slightly shorter hair. I stared up at Aidyn, mouth open. “Why were you so sad?” I whispered. “What was happening?”

Aidyn’s eyes locked into mine so suddenly that I jumped. “What?” he said.

I frowned. “This is you, isn’t it? Oh…and the wings…”

The sketchpad was snatched from my hands. “That’s enough,” Aidyn growled, and flipped the page. He didn’t acknowledge me for the rest of that class, and I didn’t have the nerve to try anything again. Nevertheless, my mind kept running questions through, thinking about the picture. Why wings? And why did the little boy look so young and helpless and hurt? And it was Aidyn, too… Maybe he was drawing about something sad, and subconsciously thought of himself with the same emotions, and used his face, or…

Meh. I had had enough thinking for the day. School was out, thank goodness. Uneventful as always, except for Aidyn. I guess I was kind of a loner now, not a depressed one, not really, but a loner, I guess, because my popular friends had ditched me.

Aidyn, on the other hand, really was the loner. He gave everyone the cold shoulder; I wasn’t even sure why I kept trying to get his attention and talk to him. Maybe it was because he was playing hard to get – and I mean strictly in a non-romantic way. I guess I was just curious about him, like everyone else was, though curiosity killed the cat.

Y’know, cats have nine lives, buddy.

I went back to my apartment that night after my job at a small, rundown nondescript café forking over day-old doughnuts and mixing up lattes. Hey, I needed the money. The evening was spent wracking my brains over a piece of stupid algebraic math. And the thing was, I couldn’t get Aidyn out of my mind. I even found myself taking second glances at any blond head with longish hair in the crowds. What was with this obsession? I was scaring myself. All I knew was that I couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

Really, Turo. Snap out of it.

Yeah, Turo’s my last name, what of it? Okay, I guess it’s not that common of a name. Raelyn Angela Turo.

Well…not that bad…

I walked to school the next day, because it was nice outside, and the buses were always old and stuffy and bumpy and hot, and exercise never did a girl bad…I hope.

Classes went fine…at least until math rolled along. I hated math, probably because I sucked so badly at it. That was apparent when Mr. Hawthorne handed back quizzes from two days ago. I glanced at the mark and buried my head in my hands. I knew enough math (thank goodness, or I’d be stuck in grade two or something) to know that six out of fifteen marks did not a passing grade make.

Mr. Hawthorne called me up to his desk, and I trudged up there, grimacing. This did not look good.

“Raelyn, your math mark…” he started, shaking his round bald head.

I made a face at his desk. “I know, Mr. Hawthorne. I do try.”

He sighed. “Yes, well, that doesn’t seem to be enough. I was wondering if you would consider having a tutor?”

I blinked owlishly at him. “T-Tutor?”

Mr. Hawthorne nodded – then called Aidyn up. Because he was done his assignment for the day. Which was so not fair. How could he be done when I was barely through the second question?

Okay, little freaking-out session done here.

Second thing…AIDYN WOULD BE TUTORING ME IN MATH?!

Sorry.

Mr. Hawthorne cleared his throat. “If it works out for the two of you – Aidyn – I would like you to be – tutoring, should we say – Raelyn with her math, if only for a while.” He sat back in his chair.

“Tutoring?” Aidyn said slowly, frowning, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yes, just temporarily, since you seem to be doing so well.”

I thought Aidyn looked a bit disgruntled as he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes, sir.” I didn’t blame him for it, and tried to convince myself it had nothing to do with me personally.

After that, we met in the school library after school, while Aidyn attempted to teach me the finer skills of math. Attempted, not because he was a bad teacher, but I was horribly slow at picking up the concepts. And it was hard to concentrate, when Aidyn seemed to make it a point to never look me in the eye. I guess I should’ve been grateful, remembering our first meeting, but…

It took me a while before I could get up the nerve to tell Aidyn that meeting after school didn’t work too well for me. I had an earlier shift at the café every other day, and I was barely making it there on time. I couldn’t afford to be late, and I told him so. “Maybe we could meet after suppertime? At the library or something?”

The look Aidyn sent in my direction was of annoyance, like a parent with a naïve, slow child. “Miss Turo – ” because for some reason he never called me by my first name, however often I asked him to “ – the library happens to be closed at that time of the day.” Condescension tinged his words.

“O-Oh.” Flustered again – too common – I stammered and tried to come up with a better solution. “Uh…how about the café, then? That would work – ”

“No.”

“But – ”

“Your apartment would be fine.”

“Uh…” I scrambled for some semblance of dignity, trying to compose myself. “Well, now, I’m sure the lobby would be fine. I don’t think the landlord would mind too much if – ”

Aidyn sounded firm and definitely annoyed. “Not the lobby.”

I gave in. “Okay,” I squeaked, and gulped. “Whatever you say.”