Page 12 of The Tenth Circle

That guy was way too cocky not to boast.

Theotherguy, well, he would most likely prefer stabbing me instead.

I swivel until Letterman’s out of eyesight, but I still feel him like a blaze of heat on my back.

My body temperature returns and rises fast, causing sweat to pool at my hands, one of which is still holding the broken pencil.

I toss the pieces onto the desk like they’re on fire.

You really are an idiot, Montgomery. A full-fledged idiot.

As if sharing my thoughts, a hefty chuckle comes from my left, eerily similar to the one I’ve been imagining for nights on end.

I slowly turn forward, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. It works for a while—even as the class and my drawing progresses—because let’s face it there is absolutely nothingabout Algebra II that can distract me from who may or may not be sitting next to me.

My comics on the other hand…

I stay busy working on the ins and outs of shading when a chastising tone from the front of the room interrupts me.

“Hey, you. Over there,” the old man who still hasn’t announced his name calls out, “with the bangs.”

There is not one other person in this room sporting the hairstyle, so it doesn’t take a genius to know who he’s referring to.

Fuck me for wanting to be trendy.

I drag my gaze to the front before grandpa’s eyes dip to my red lip stain, then swallow down the acid in my throat.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your name?”

Oh sure. Now he asks.

“Hendrix.”

Old man waves me on.

“Hendrix Montgomery.”

There’s a shift in the seat next to me, and at first I assume it’s discomfort on Letterman’s end, but the sound of a mousy redhead beckoning him proves me wrong in an instant.

“You’re new here,” the old man continues.

My gaze shoots side to side, unaware if it’s a question or a statement. “Uh, yeah?”

“Well then, don’t you think you should be paying mind to me instead of doodling at your desk?”

Oh, hell no.

If I was offended before, now I’m straight up abhorred. How dare this old man compare my art to doodles?

He’s a fucking doodle behind those three inch thick bifocals.

As angry as I am, I choose my response carefully, since now Idohave the focus of my peers.

Especially Letterman’s classy redheaded girlfriend.

She scoffs under her breath, like the sudden attention on me has been some kind of personal inconvenience.