I could still hear his little eleven year old voice ringing in my ear, blaming me for something I never did. My parents tilted their heads distraught their own son would even do something so horrible to someone. Except I hadn't.
"Seb?" he inquired, his lips slightly pursed. His eyes met mine and every time I looked away and back, they were still staring right at me. I didn't know what to say, or couldn't even believe he was sitting right in front of me.
"Da-da.....Damien? You go to this school?"
It was a shock to me that he lived in Santa Monica. Following the incident, both of our families went through a period of arguments and non-stop belittlement. Neither of them knew what actually took place, and it didn't help that both of us were telling completely different stories.
"Tch, yeah. There's not many high schools around this area anyway," he explained as he sat sideways in his chair digging through his backpack for extra paper. He pulled out an extra notebook and pen he had and set it on my desk. "I can't believe it."
"Neither can I. Of all places."
He seemed to be amused by what I said. "We've got a lot to catch up on."
I wasn't amused by the situation at all. Could he really just forget all that happened? He caused weeks of grief between our families because of a petty loss for a childhood game, and he never took the time to apologize for any of it. And now he thinks he can just waltz back into my life unharmed?
I stood up. "No, we don't," I pronounced picking up the notebook and pen and walking over to the other side of the room to another desk behind the "brave" guy that asked Miss Baniszewski the question about writing utensils and what-not. "Hey," I said as I sat down.
"Oh, you're the cutely dressed kid huh?" he asked. "There was this girl in the hallway who would not shut up about you out in the hallway before class."
"Really? Who?" My hopes were up seeing as it was only the first day of school and there was already a girl gushing over me. It's moments like those when I can actually feel good about myself.
"Eh, I don't really know. She was a blonde sophomore. Abel," he said extending his hand out.
"That narrows it down," I stated as I reached over to shake his hand. "Sebastian, but you can just call me Seb."
"Like the crab, huh?" he snickered. I didn't really find it funny but just decided to play along for the time being.
Just then, the door slammed shut, and Miss Baniszewski walked to the front of the classroom as the tardy students scattered all over to find an empty desk. The class suddenly grew quiet as she stood with her hands on her hips. "Well, that little incident outside wasted almost all of our class time," she uttered unhappily as she made contact with each of the perpetrators who came in late. "I don't expect any of you to be late for the rest of the year, unless you're missing half of your body, understand?"
"Yes ma'am," Abel replied. The class filled with soft giggles as she tapped her foot on the floor.
"That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Yousef. Something I presume you are not smart enough to understand?"
That seemed to smack the grin he had off of his face. "Mr. Chevelier!" she announced. "Who told you that you could move from your desk? You picked it, you stick with it." She walked over to me and pulled me by the collar over to my old desk. She stood there, impatiently waiting for me to sit down. "Well? Take a seat!"
"No," I responded.
She gasped. "Excuse me?"
I rolled my eyes and laughed before looking at her again. "I won't sit there." It was obvious by the look on her face she wasn't pleased at all.
"If you don't take a seat right now, you might as well leave this class and never expect to return again."
"Fine," I said with Damien's notebook in one hand and pen clenched in the other. I went over to his desk and set them down, then took one last look at him. "I would rather die than sit next to a bastard like him."
Following that, I took my leave and stepped out of the room. I knew I had unintentionally made myself look like a fool, and I couldn't help but feel stupid, yet satisfied with what had just happened. I was just a mess. There's no other words to describe it.