Free Fallen by Laury Falter Page B

punished further for some unknown crime, I found the room … on the top floor , in the far right corner , of the East Hall. It couldn’t have been farther from The Warden ’s office , or any more difficult to find , so I was five minutes late.
    A very tall, thin , German woman approached me when I entered, which I knew must be my new English teacher. Ms. Gleichner introduced me to the class , while the students silently scrutinized me , before directing me to a corner seat in the last row.
    This quickly proved to be the end of my lucky streak for the day, when the hair on my neck began to tickle and reach outward, as I walked farther and fa rther down the aisle. By the time I was at my seat, the hair felt like it was being pulled by a strong magneti c force. Thankfully, I didn’t have the shakes or sweats that accompanied this reaction earlier, and I was able to pass myself off as being somewhat normal.
    I was almost certain the effect I was feeling was caused by the guy in the seat next to mine , even if he did look harmless enough. H is hair was dark brown and unkempt ; he wore simple, wire rimmed glasses and a short- sleeved shirt with a collar . His shirt looked like it had been stolen from a 1980’s sitcom so, clearly , he didn’t run with the same crowd as Achan . When I finally arrived at my seat, he didn’t bother to look up at me.
    Others, however, peeked in my direction all throughout class , but after the bell rang , someone actually spoke to me.
    “Excuse me,” said a girl with straight blond e hair pulled back into a ponytail , expos ing diamond drop earrings.
    My first reaction was to act like I hadn’t heard her. The tone of her voice would n’t be considered friendly by anyone’s standards. Unfortunately, she was sitting directly in front of me and had turned nearly all the way around in her seat.
    “Excuse me,” she repeated , more insistent.
    I finished shoving my book back into my backpack and zipp ed it up , before r esponding.
    “Yes?”
    “Are you the girl who sits in Jackson Square and takes money for delivering messages to the dead ?”
    By now, everyone who hadn’t left the room was watching me.
    “Why? Do you have a message to deliver?”
    The girl snickered. “No.”
    Then she stood and muttered to a mousy , dark-haired girl across the aisle, “ Yes, it’s confirmed. She’s a freak .”
    The two of them left the room whispering together – which I was certain was about me.
    The boy who sat next to me , the only one not to sneak a quick glance in my direction during class , leaned toward me.
    “ That’s Bridgette Madison . Her friend , who sits in front of me , is Ashley Georgian . Best to stay away from them.”
    “I’ll try if they let me,” I said , happy to find someone who seemed decent at my new school . “Thank you. It’s always helpful to know someone who’s been around the school longer .”
    “ Actually, I’m new too,” he said, as he forced his own books back in his bag.
    “Really? How do you know the two girls then?”
    “They were my tour guides , after my introductory meeting with Mr. Warden , last week.”
    “Lucky you.”
    He rolled his eyes. “Right … but it d oes help to know who not to know though.”
    “ True. So w here are you from?” I asked, starting to feel a kinship with him already , despite the warning my neck hair was giving me.
    He dipped his head and appear ed to be embarrassed, though I di dn’t understand why. “All over. I don’t have family. I’ve been living off my inheritance, making my way from place to place.”
    “ I move around a lot too . ” That connection made me like him even more.
    He smiled sheepishly back at me ; I wondered if h e felt guilty for mentioning he had money , because I didn’t . I couldn’t have cared less , so I changed the subject , hoping it would help him forget about it.
    “ W hy New Orleans ?”
    “Huh?” he asked over his shoulder, as he stood .
    I picked up my backpack and followed.