Next time I saw him, he was bent over a piece of paper, shielding it with an arm. He was deeply possessive of whatever it was, clearly.. Poetry? No, he didn't strike me as the sort.. Suddenly, the boy to his left ripped it out of his grasp, and a squabble began. I bent my head, determined not to be caught staring, but something caught my eye. I raised my eyes, and flinched. It was me. My eyes staring back at me, rendered so perfectly I almost could see it blink. Raised aloft as it was, it was exposed, and very clearly me. I gasped, my eyes unable to move from their grey version. And then, the worst possible thing happened. They all turned around, some shocked, some scared, some downright disgusted. "Who are you?" "Are you an alien?" They peppered me with questions until it hurt to swallow. I could feel everything I had worked to preserve disintegrate. I ran. I had to. I couldn't stay there, with all their eyes on me, knowing me at last. My hands raked up my forearms, the repetitive motion of fingers grazing my sleeves soothing me. I heard footfalls, and hid behind a stack of lockers.
It was him, looking puzzled, and ultimately, guilty as hell. I frowned, leaning forward on my toes to see without exposing myself. What did he want? What else could he pull from under me? My resolve to leave him behind solidified with every second I hid behind that locker.
Any attempts at hiding now in the sea of students were ruined.