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s smirk ing at his desk, eyes closed, head shaking ever so slightly. It would’ve looked strange to others, but I often find myself doing this when I have a moment of quiet. If I didn’t kno w better, I’d say he was talking to himself, but his mouth moves so slightly I can’ t be sure from afar.
                  Without warning, his head snaps up and his eyes survey mine. He lifts his hand slightly and points towards the front of the room where an old television has begun pla ying the opening scene. I try to look casual, but don’t succeed so I just look at the television , feeling out of control again.
                  Besides, a boy like him doesn’t seem the type that would be interested in a being friends with a girl like me; a girl with something to hide, something- someone- to find… a girl who will stop at nothing until she finds what she’s looking for.
                  The lights flash back on before I know it and the students groan unanimously as the blinding fluorescents assault our sensitive eyes. A few minutes later, after some discussion on the accu racy of the scene, the bell rings and Mr. Morrison dismisses the class. My head acts of its own accord and shifts towards Tristan, who i s already halfway across the room, heading towards me, looking at his black boots.
                  “Miss. Prince ? May I please see you for a moment,” Mr. Morrison says from behind his desk.
                  Tristan frowns slightly before immediately masking his face again, cutting off any emotion that may be threatening to make it self known. He waves at me and nod s his head in farewell and walks out the door, not looking back. The instant longing hits me like an invisible wall, and I rock back on my heels, grasping my stomach.
                  Walking towards Mr. Morrison’s desk, I observe the ridiculous amount of books he has on the shelves on the opposite wall. “Yes, sir?” I say quietly.
                  His head snaps up, face stunned. “Now Katherine, don’t you call me ‘sir.” Don’t make me feel old,” Mr. Morrison smiles kindly. “I want to discuss something with you,” he says.
                  “Mr. Morrison, I have already read Pride and Prejudice, so I apologize if you noticed my di straction in class today,” I blurt out, not thinking. My eyes widen slightly and I look down, tugging at my shirt sleeves.
                  He smiles, looking impressed. “I am not concerned with your academic situation, Miss. Prince . I have no doubt that you will be a fantastic student. What I wanted to mention briefly-” he’s cut off by the ringing of the warning bell. “Don’t worry, I’ll write you a pass. What I wanted to mention briefly,” he continues, “is that… Well, I am very aware of your previous situation before transferred here. Your secret is safe with me, if it’s something you wish to keep private . The faculty was made aware of your… circumstances upon your arrival.”
                  I am mortified. How could I look my teachers in the face if they all thought I was nuts? I came here hoping to start fresh; new people who knew nothing about me. In every sense of the word, a clean slate. Mr. Morrison must see the mortification on my face, or in my suddenly wide eyes, because he jumps right back into lecturing me.
                  “Katherine,” he mutters softly, taking my upper arms in his tiny hands. I flinch, but he grips tighter. “Katherine, you are most welcome in my classroom, anytime you need a place to go. Do you understand? I respect you; I will not treat you any different than any of my other students. You are always welcome to visit me,” he finishes, releasing my arms and stepping back.
                  Honesty was rolling off the man in waves, and I didn’t need to be cursed- or blessed- by God to feel it. My throat constricts,