Read Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel) for Free Online

with were farfetched at best.
    One idea I had that was very unlikely was
that I became so emotional that I imagined it—that I got caught up
in my feelings and did not see him run over to me. No—definitely
not. That didn’t sit right in my mind. I wasn’t an illogical
person. I certainly wasn’t oblivious to my surroundings.
    Another possibility was that maybe he
hypnotized me somehow and during the bedazzlement he told me not to
remember that he ran over to me. But how could he hypnotize me? He
didn’t even say anything. Don’t trained hypnotists have to give
verbal commands?
    And that didn’t answer for the rest of the
class. Why were they so dreamy eyed and oblivious. I knew very
little about alternate states of consciousness, though I knew
science was evolving in that direction. Maybe he hypnotized me
somehow with his eyes. Is that even possible? And even if it was,
what about the rest of the students and the teacher? He didn’t
stare at them.
    It seemed like he just suddenly appeared like
a witch or a genie from a TV show who blinks and then appears
somewhere else. How could something like that happen in real life?
Every idea I came up with was preposterous, beyond all reason.
    Another thought I had was that he was a
magician. Maybe he was trained in trickery, like a guy who
travelled with the circus and had learned all sorts of illusionary
techniques. Possibly he planned the whole interaction to mess with
me.
    But, why would he want to do that? He would
have had to set up his stage ahead of time the way a magician plans
and arranges beforehand for an audience. He couldn’t have possibly
known that I was going to be enrolled in the same class. Like, I
said, all my ideas were absurd.
    Oh, it all seemed so crazy. I just hated him.
Laurent Monreau. What a horrible boy. Why was he toying with my
mind? He couldn’t possibly be interested in me romantically. He was
ultimate perfection, every girl’s dream boy. And I was just a plain
Jane wallflower. Boys like Laurent just weren’t interested in girls
like me. Why was he singling me out? And why was his girlfriend,
Marine, so determined to keep me away from him?
    Thoughts like these ran through my mind all
day. I felt so confused and like I said, curiosity was my Achilles
Heel. There was no way I could let this go.
    As I walked down the hall lost in a sea of
maddening thoughts, more students congratulated me on my fighting
skills at the beach. There were all sorts of juvenile high fives
thrown at me. I had to slap their hands back just to get them to
lay off me.
    Every class was torture. My teachers were as
boring as ever—they mostly just discussed class syllabi and passed
out books.
    The only time I forgot about Laurent and his
strange friends was in cooking class. When the teacher told us all
the elaborate dishes we were going to make, I started fearing that
I might ruin my GPA with that stupid class. I had to get straight
A’s to get into Berkley. I worried I might burn up all the foods by
mistake and end up flunking the course. The idea was more
horrendous than anything the French students could do to me. I HAD
to get into Berkley. That was my dream!
    Cooking was my last class before lunch.
Agatha noticed my face was turning blue and had to steady me by the
shoulders as we left the room. I was babbling about burning up
food.
    “Stop worrying,” she tried to reassure me.
“I’ll help you through the class. Cooking is easy.”
    “Easy?” I said sarcastically as I rolled my
eyes. “It’s hell and I’m so awful at it.”
    “You’ll do fine.” She couldn’t help but
giggle a little at what seemed to her to be over dramatics.
    “I’m so angry at my mom for forcing me to
take it.”
    “She just wants you to be functional in the
world,” she expressed as we turned to our locker. Every year we
choose to share a locker. It’s just easier that way since we spend
so much time together.
    I was turning the combination when Ashton
Benson from the boys