Chapter One, Part Two.

Life in a boarding school has its perks.
Not being able to see anyone than the usual group is not one of them.
These two guys in my grade, Trent Larson and Brenner Jamison, are total pains, losers, jerks, asswipes, you name the label, it will probably fit. They harass the teacher and most of the students daily (The only ones spared are the guys who'd kick them to China and the hot blondes they drool over. Ugh.), which used to include pale, brunette me, until I lost my temper one day and nearly threw a desk at them. I'm kind of prone to violence.
Their victim of choice was a boy I didn't know the name of. His complexion was light like mine, and he had shoulder-length dark brown hair. No matter how much they picked on him, his hazel eyes reflected no pain, only mild disinterest. I couldn't stand just letting them get away with it, though, even though never once did the boy respond. One day, I snapped after a particularly irritating remark (I don't remember what it was.), and punched Trent in the jaw so hard, my knuckles turned a lovely shade of purple. Satisfyingly enough, he couldn't talk or eat properly for a week or two. Lucky for me, the dean likes me, and let me off with a slap-on-the-wrist punishment. For a while, Trent left the boy alone, but I guess he figured out that I can't touch him, because he went right back to being a little shit not long after.

Anyway.

Trent and Brenner were back at it again, insulting that poor kid. I always wondered why he didn't fight back.
"Maybe he knows something I don't," I thought.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, he turned and looked me dead in the eyes. My breath caught in my throat. His eyes were yellow.
Shocked, I stared back, unable to respond. Then, he blinked, and his eyes returned to their sullen hazel. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it hurt. What the hell was that?!
"Miss Cavailier."
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it's just paranoia, or delirium from lack of sleep. Maybe-
"Miss Cavailier!"
"Huh?" I snapped out of the ocean of thoughts caused by mere seconds of eye contact. "Yes, Mr. Conrich?"
"What people were targeted during the Salem witch trials?"
Oh. Duh. "Older, unmarried women, some younger women who were more progressive. There were some men, a lot of cats, and a dog."
A couple of kids giggled. They probably thought I was guessing.
"Correct. Good to see you were paying attention."
"Um, thank you, sir."
Brenner continued snickering. Ugh. What a creep.
"Falling asleep in class, Cavailier? I thought you were supposed to be a good student." Trent taunted in his annoying, nasal voice. Brenner's donkeyish laugh brayed louder.
"You know, I don't think you'd like it much if your jaw were wired shut, Larson."
Funny how my threats, however full of crap they were, still scared him. He shut up.

With an extremely self-satisfied smirk, I looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy. His stare was the most intense I'd ever seen. Suddenly, my face burned hot, and I ducked my head to hide my blush.