Cold at the Touch
“Who can tell me what radiation is?” Mrs. Philips asks the class. “We should all know this. It’s coming on tomorrow’s quiz.”
I freeze. I was not paying attention, with my doodles to prove it.
I bury my face into my notebook, pretending to take notes, hoping she won’t call on me.
“Niomi?”
I cringe.
“Uh…um..uh..” I stutter.
Suddenly, a girl walks into the classroom and approaches Mrs. Philips.
I take a sigh of relief, looking back at my notebook.
Mrs. Philips coughs to bring attention back to herself.
“So, today we have a new student,” she says, giving a fake smile. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
“Um, sure,” the new student smiles. “Hi, my name is Sydney, and I, um, just recently moved here from New Jersey. Some of my hobbies are reading, cooking, and soccer.”
She seems normal enough. Baggy jeans and a butter yellow top, but something seems off. Maybe it’s the way her eyes flash an orange hue when they meet the light, or the way her hair is unaturally tinted green.
“I like your hair,” a kid named Carter calls, noticing the green. “It’s giving alien vibes.”
His friend Alex agrees. “The faded look really adds that spacey theme.”
She freezes before plastering a smile on her face again.
“Thanks, I dyed it green last year, but it started fading after a bit.”
“You can sit in the empty seat next to Niomi. Ok, Sydney?” Mrs. Philips asks.
“Sure,” she says, through gritted teeth.
As she’s walking over, a pencil falls out of her grip. I reach down to grab it, but her hand intersects first. For a split second, my fingers brush her skin, and it is blisteringly cold.
She glares at me before taking her seat.
“So, since you’re new, let’s see what you know so far,” Mrs. Philips says. “What is convection?”
“It’s the circulation of a liquid or gas,” Sydney replied confidently.
“Very good,” Mrs. Philips replies.
Sydney leans over, a smile still on her face.
“I have a feeling you and I aren’t going to get along,” she whispers in my ear.
