CinderEli by Rosie Somers

One

     
    Katie
     
    I spun my car into the parking spot like a
stunt driver and was already half out when I slammed the shifter
into park. According to the dashboard clock, it was 7:27 am, and I
had less than three minutes to get to class. I grabbed my backpack
and my sandals from the backseat and jogged in bare feet across the
parking lot to the science building.
    I didn’t exactly make the best impression,
sliding into the classroom just as the teacher was beginning his
introduction, shoes dangling from my fingers instead of on my feet.
But it wasn’t the first time I’d been late to school. This wasn’t
even the first time I’d been late to class that week. My first week
of senior year, and I was three for three. Procrastinating was kind
of my thing. “Always Late Kate,” that’s what my friends called
me.
    “Nice of you to join us,” the teacher greeted
me, basically inviting the whole class to look at the slacker who’d
just disrupted their learning experience.
    “Sorry, sir. I got stuck in traffic.” I
dropped my eyes to the floor apologetically, remembering too late
that my feet were naked. He lifted a hand to stroke his
salt-and-pepper beard while pointedly staring at my toes. My
sandals slapped as they hit the ground, and I stabbed my feet
through the straps sloppily.
    “Take a seat over there.” He pointed to a
seat at the back of the room. Good, I would be safely tucked away
in the corner, away from all of the curious eyes currently roving
over me. “Next time, do try to be on time. And fully dressed.”
    I slunk across the room and squeezed by all
of the conscientious students who’d been on time. I’d almost made
it to my seat when I tripped over someone’s foot. My embarrassment
couldn’t end with me just being late to class. Oh no, that would be
too easy. I yelped once and teetered for barely more than a second
before toppling face-first into the boy sitting next to my empty
seat. I’d almost made it to my chair, one seat to go, and now I was
in my neighbor’s lap with my face squashed against his incredibly
hard chest.
    Ugh. Could I just die now? I pulled myself
off my unfortunate victim and looked up into his face as I knelt to
grab my backpack from where it had landed during my fall. To say he
had the face of an angel would be an understatement.
Chocolate-brown eyes were emphasized by an arrow-straight nose and
strong, square jaw. His skin was creamy smooth, and my mouth
watered at the sight of full, rosy lips. As if sensing the turn of
my thoughts, his tongue darted out to wet those lips.
    “If you’re finished introducing yourself to
your classmate, I’d like to continue with the class.” The teacher’s
gravelly voice brought my surroundings into sharp focus. I was on
my knees between this guy’s legs, and the whole class had been
witness to it. I scrambled up into my seat and did my best to
disappear. The guy next to me shifted uncomfortably in his
seat.
    “Now, as I was saying—I’m Mr. Carson. Welcome
to Chemistry.” Teach grabbed a stack of papers from the podium in
front of him and headed for the nearest student as he spoke.
“Please take out a pen. Take a copy of the syllabus and pass the
stack on. This semester, we’ll use a combination of learning tools
. . .”
    While I waited for the syllabi to make it to
my row, I grabbed a hair-tie out of my backpack and yanked my
unruly, blonde curls into a crude ponytail, then dug into the bag
in search of a pen. A minute later, I was forced to admit defeat.
Obviously, I was cursed. Being late to class, falling into the lap
of another student, and now finding out I had no pen.
    I leaned over to the guy whose personal space
I’d inadvertently violated and whispered, “Do you have an extra
pen?” Without skipping a beat, he fished a spare BIC out of the
cargo pocket of his khaki shorts. He passed it to me, without
looking my way, but froze when our fingers brushed.
    One quick glance at his face was enough to
see he was