Читать книгу Atlantean - E.N. J.D. Watkins - Страница 8

For the first time today I found myself wondering what grade Victoria was in. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t bothered to ask her. I wondered if Camilla knew, or cared for that matter.

Nyssa didn’t relinquish my hand until we were fully in the classroom which was actually more of an auditorium.

I started walking toward the seats in the back and Camilla and her friends followed.

When I sat down, Nyssa took a seat at my right while Camilla sat at my left. Stephanie and Lindsey had to bully a couple of their classmates in order sit down next to Camilla.

I leaned back in my seat. Not having any pens or paper I wasn’t going to be taking many notes. Not that I would have anyway—even if I had the proper materials. Nyssa had her pen and paper ready moments after she sat down. At first I thought she was preparing to take some notes, but after a significant glance in my direction I knew that she was writing something for me.

I bent forward and glanced at her paper. A small smile passed over my face when I read what she’d written.

Do you like Camilla?

I wondered what it was to her if I did or not. I shrugged and leaned back in my seat. Then, inspiration struck. I held out my hand for her pen and, grinning broadly, she gave it to me.

I would have to be casual about how I worded this. I definitely didn’t want to send out the wrong impression—but how to ask? It took me only a second to decide before writing my question.

Do you know what grade Alexander Seraph's daughter is in?

Nyssa frowned then scribbled, twelfth.

So Mr. Seraph wanted me in the same grade as his daughter.

But why?

I highly doubted he was trying to play matchmaker?

Nyssa was writing something again.

Do you have a cell?

I thought about the mysterious cell phone I’d found then scribbled:

Still in my room.

Text me when you get it.

Next to that was her number.

Girl wasn’t wasting any time.

Ok.

No sooner had I scribbled down my reply when Camilla whispered in my ear.

“Here’s mine, too.”

I felt her take my hand and gently write something on my palm. I whipped around, sure that Camilla would have something to say about my peculiar palm lines. But if she thought them odd she didn’t voice it; in fact, she acted as though she couldn’t see the knot at all. When she was finished writing her number, I stared at my palm while she pulled out her cell phone. Some of the numbers were overlapping the palm lines, making them nearly impossible to see.

Camilla held up her camera to my face and I knew she was about to take my picture. I threw my hand up playfully just as she took the picture. She giggled and showed me the photo. What I saw nearly caused my eyes to shoot out of their sockets: the hand I had thrown up was the very same hand that Camilla had written her number upon but in the snapshot my palm had only her number on it and nothing else.

What did this mean?

I looked at my palms: both knots were still there. I looked at the photo again.

“Something wrong?” Camilla asked in a worried tone.

My puzzlement must have been evident on my face.

“It’s nothing,” I lied smoothly.

I suppose I could have told her the truth, but Camilla didn’t come off as a trustworthy person.