"Why?" Mike demanded.
I swallowed my rage and tried a different tact.
"I also can't go to the dance with you because I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway—it was suddenly the perfect time to go.
"Can't you go some other weekend?"
"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer—it's rude, Mike."
"Yeah, you're right," he neighed and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to physically push the guilt and sympathy out of my brain. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and gave up—I couldn't touch emotions with my fingers anyways—and opened my eyes.
And Fredward was staring at me curiously that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in the deep abyss of his black eyes.
I stared back, surprised, aroused, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake from the intensity of it all.
"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher105 called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard.
"The Krebs Cycle," Fredward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.
I looked down at my book-document as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder to hide my face. I couldn't believe the rainbow of emotion pulsing through me—just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a
105. David Banner, a mild-mannered scientist who developed super powers after over-exposure to gamma rays.