Wronged

By @Kconway
Wronged

Tattoos that people are born with determine who they belong with. Anna Cardale has recently escaped a horrifying past from her father. She has no desire to find her potential soulmate. In fact, she despises love. ...Until she actually finds him.

Chapter 7

• 7 •

– Aiden’s POV – 

(Yeah, you’re welcome boos ;3)

I stare into my locker for a moment, searching for my math textbook. Once I find it, I grab it and throw it behind me. 

Good. Now I have space for the real sh**. I smirk as Nico hands me his bag and allows me to set two thermoses inside. Both are filled with vodka and orange juice, two very amazing compositions when put together in our opinion. 

“Man, are you sure this is a good idea? What if you get caught?” Nico asks as I shut the metal door. I roll my eyes at him and pull my bag onto myself properly. 

“We’re not going to get- ah, f*ck.” I interrupt myself, swearing when the pressure of my backpack and the fabric of my black shirt rubs against my right shoulder blade. I glare at myself internally and switch sides, momentarily forgetting about that dumb tattoo on my back. Fu**ing wing.

“Yo, you good?” Nico questions, raising a single eyebrow. 

I nod. “Fine.”

“Is it your tattoo?” 

“Yeah,” I admit nonchalantly. “But I’m fine, man. Promise.”

My best friend glances toward the area where the white and grey wing would be if I had my back faced to him. It burns like hell today. Even though my mom’s a doctor and said the pain would subside with the drug she gave me, it didn’t seem to be working at all. The entire upper right side of my back is stinging like a bi***.

He nods. “Alright then…you sure they won’t check your locker if they smell it on you?” He asks, nodding his head toward the metal door and then looking back to me, referring to the alcohol I’d consumed this morning. I need something to jump start my slow ass in the mornings. 

I smirk, chuckling a bit. “Oh no. They’ll check my locker if they smell it on me. Hopefully I’ll get a long suspension too.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Why’re you always insisting on taking the hard road?” 

Why do you assume that I see two roads?

“I live a thrilling lifestyle, Neke.” 

Ah, and the lies are something I consume just as much as alcohol. They keep me protected from what I really am. Sometimes my untruth is so expertly said that I begin to believe it. Props to me. 

He shakes his head. “Whatever man. Good luck with that. I have a girl to grab before this period is over.”

Nico starts to walk away, saluting me lazily as he does so. I hold back a scoff. A girl. Always leaving me for his girl. It’s not like it bothers me that much. He just has her at the top of his priority list, whereas I come to a very distant second. 

No big deal. We’ve only been friends for nineteen years. He’s known and been with that Morgan girl for three, but I see time doesn’t really matter when it comes to shoving your main man down the drain to make space for the shiny new toy that he’s oh-so-destined to be with. The goddess of fate must’ve ran by and pushed me into the depths of the ocean while allowing those two to float away on a yacht into the sunset. 

I begin walking to the cafeteria in hopes of finding my own toy to mess around with before lunch period ends. 

Ha. Fate. It’s the dumbest thing ever, other than hope and myself. 

It just doesn’t exist.

I turn left just when another girl is heading right…in the same area as I’m trying to go left. Due to her short frame, she doesn’t seem to see where she’s going, and butts right into me. She rubs her nose for a moment, a shock wave of warmth rushes through my blood before evaporating completely. Suddenly the burning in my shoulder comes to a complete halt. 

She looks up at me, and I tilt my head to the side in confusion. That doesn’t settle well with me. It just stopped burning. Just like that. There’s no way it’s her

I met Anna the first day she arrived here. She is observant and doesn’t smile much, from what I can see. Then again, I don’t do that enough either. In my line of nighttime work, there isn’t much room for grins and explosive positivity. It’s a world full of darkness and endless grim expression. But it’s my world. And mine only. 

I want to see if she feels any sort of burning vanishing too. I want to know if she has a matching tattoo on her back. I want to know if she knows. 

But before I can, she mumbles an annoyed apology and swerves around me, heading straight for the other section of the hallway. She rounds another corner, popping out of my line of vision as she speed walks in that direction. 

Where is she running off to?

A strong urge overcomes my senses, and I roll my eyes in annoyance before giving in. 

I follow her. 

I stop myself when I see she’d just stopped around the corner. I conceal my body as best I can and peer around. She seems to be taking a breather, like something had just taken the wind out of her. It was from running, apparently. 

It’s quiet for a moment before moaning sounds can be heard from in the wall. There’s a room in front of me and behind Anna. I mentally slap Nico on the back of his head, but plan on doing it for real once he gets done getting dirty. 

He knows to never have s*x in that room. Its walls aren’t thick enough to hide the noise. I told him this. Idiot.

Nico…” A voice that is obviously Hayley moans my best friend’s name. I cringe and back away from the wall. I want to leave, but I also don’t want to leave her. She’s standing right there. I need some d*mn answers. 

I watch as Anna backs away from the wall after hearing Hayley sexually pronounce Nico’s name, falling into the lockers without knowing it. She intakes a large breath and holds it, tensing up with her eyes shut tightly.

But then, slowly, her entire body relaxes and an expression of confusion replaces everything else. Her hand, to my surprise, hesitantly crawls up and over her shoulder. Her left shoulder. 

She’s checking for pain. But it won’t be there. 

Before she spots me, I turn around and run a hand over my face just as the bell rings. People gradually flood the halls until I am able to blend with everyone efficiently. I don’t really want to go to this psychology class. I don’t actually need to. I’m not going to be a psychologist or therapist of any sort. But Anna is in this period. I need to make her see me. Talk to me. 

I find my way in the very back of the classroom, sitting down and pulling my phone out of my pocket. My fingers tap the screen as I text Nico, saying I was going to show up for class for once. 

And then I send another separate text saying that he should be quieter when he’s sticking his minuscule bread-maker into the oven. 

Just then, a few students come into the classroom, Anna being one of them. Her eyes dart from left to right, a salty expression seeming to be glued onto her face. When they find me, I don’t reveal any sort of emotion. I just sit there, arms crossed with a neutral show. 

Just as quickly as her eyes connected with mine, they break away and wander to the third row, where she then walks to and takes the desk nearest to the window. Her back is faced to me, long hair held up into a messily done ponytail. 

Mr. Owen begins the lesson of the day, but I don’t pay attention once. I just stare at the back of Anna’s head the entire hour. Or, maybe I didn’t look at it the whole time. I occasionally took notice of other areas of her body. Like her hair, skinny torso, and the left shoulder blade, where I suspect her own white and gold and grey colored wing lies. 

But even from behind, I can tell that she’s bored out of her mind. Her chin is resting on her folded arms that rest on the desk, and every now and then I see a piece of hair that had escaped the hair tie fly up due to her repeatedly blowing it out of her face.  

Mr. Owen takes notice of Anna’s behavior I guess, because he pauses to look at her curiously. “Ms. Morgan?” She tenses up when he says her last name. Everyone turns to look at her too, and that doesn’t help with her uncomfortable form. “Are you with us?” 

“My last name isn’t Morgan,” Anna mumbles, but loudly enough so everyone can hear. 

Why doesn’t she want to be called Morgan? Isn’t that what family she was brought into? Maybe she feels too attached to her actual birth name. 

Mr. Owen seems to ignore this comment. “Anna, what did we just talk about?”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

A few of the students chuckle, and I hear Jack Myers say quietly, “Zero f*cks.” 

Mr. Owen sends everyone a look to shut the hell up, and they slowly do so. Then he looks back to Anna. “Right. So then you wouldn’t know the answer to any of the questions coming up for the pop quiz this week.” 

She sighs and finally sits up. “You’d be surprised.” 

The teacher crosses his arms. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Anna shrugs again. “It means I could ace that stupid pop quiz within thirty-three seconds if there are ten multiple choice questions on it.” 

Such an exact number and precision. Thirty-three seconds. Multiple choice only. Ten questions. I wonder if she’s being a smart-ass or just has a calculator for a brain. 

Mr. Owen tilts his head upward slightly, chin held high with too much pride. “Alright, Ms. Morgan. What are the four stages of Piaget’s cognitive development? In order.” 

Everyone waits for her to reply expectantly. It doesn’t take long. Maybe two seconds before the terms come flying out of her mouth, shocking everyone in the classroom. “Sensorimotor, pre-operational, concrete operational, and formal operational.” 

Mr. Owen has a moment of shock across his face before quickly covering it up. “Correct. But what about this: According to chomsky, humans have a what that helps to develop la-“

“Biological disposition.” 

Mr. Owen clenches his jaw in frustration. I wouldn’t know any of these d*mn questions, and from what I can see, Anna doesn’t even study. She needs to be in a much higher level class in psychology is she’s going to ace this without even trying. I don’t even think anyone in here would be able to get the answer this quickly. Maybe in another school, she’s already taken this part of the course. 

Still, the psychology teacher tries one last time, with a question I’m pretty sure isn’t and will never be on a high school pop quiz. It sounds more complex and hard to answer since he didn’t offer any choices. She just had to get it on her own. 

“People who listen to rock music backwards are usually looking for something evil to happen when told what to listen for. This phenomenon best illustrates what, Anna?” 

“Parapsychology.” The answer comes out unamused and slightly irritated. She was becoming annoyed with his antics to keep trying. One side of my mouth turns upward. 

Mr. Owen just stares at her. He just looks at her with this angry, but also intrigued expression. It kind of makes me want to punch him for looking at her in a weird way, but before I can make a motion to do anything, the bell rings. 

I stand up, prepared to go and talk to her. But in a flash, she’s out of her own desk and speed-walking out of the classroom before anyone else can. 

This is going to be harder than I thought.

•••

A/N:

I suck at male POV’s.

Leave feedback please! And wish me luck at a basketball game today. 

Xx

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