Sean
I have a problem.
Okay, well, generally speaking, I have A LOT of problems. This is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
My problem came walking into my first hour class, the day after I drove Rayne home from Talent Show auditions.
The first thing I noticed about was his height; the guy nearly dwarfed delicate little Rayne.
And the second thing?
Well, I noticed he was standing next to Rayne.
My Rayne.
She was especially pretty today . . . Goddess-like in torn blue jeans and a bright green peasant blouse that brought out the spicy green in her eyes.
Her hand rested on his arm, and, though I doubt she realized it, there was a casual possessiveness about the gesture. He said something funny. She smiled, laughed, and steered him over to my desk.
"Hey." Rayne pecked me on the cheek, her typical greeting. My heart never stopped reacting to that tiny contact. "Wassup chicken butt?"
I couldn't bring myself to smile, as I know she wanted. She looked concerned . . .
"Sean?"
"Nothing much. Been thinking about your song selection."
"Any ideas?"
"It may sound crazy . . . But I was thinking Imogen Heap. I think you could pull it off."
She smiled. "Wonderful."
They boy stood awkwardly behind her, clutching her bag.
Rayne seemed to suddenly remember that he was there. She turned to him, squinting apologetically.
"Sorry, Azi."
He smiled, revealing too-white teeth.
"It's okay." The guy had an accent . . . Something clicked.
"Sean, this is Azi. He's the foreign exchange stud-"
I gasped and stood up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her none-too-gently away. "'Scuse us a second, Egypt-boy."
Rayne glared at me. "That was rude."
"He was supposed to be a girl." I spat.
Rayne raised an eyebrow. I'd never told her that she could do this; it amused me to hear her rant about superior genes. "He's not."
"I'd noticed."
"There was a mix-up." She play with a rubber band on her wrist, an anxious habit.
"Send him back!"
She looked shocked, and I couldn't blame her. I'd meant to say that with some finesse . . . It had come out blunt as a thumbtack. I couldn't remember ever being that blunt with Rayne since we'd met.
"Mommy dearest wasn't thrilled either . . . But, it's too late to do anything now. Azi's staying." She shrugged. "He's really . . . interesting. And his English is amazing . . ."
"So not the point, child!" The teacher glared at us, and I pulled her back to our seats in the back of the room.
"Sorry Azi." I heard her whisper for the second time that day. He'd occupied the empty desk next to her, leaned close to hear her whisper. My eyes narrowed.
"It's okay." He said again. I wondered if he said anything else.
And then I stopped wondering and threw myself into Advanced Science, trying to forget what I sensed brewing under the surface.
