Marcus-

Marcus’s head shot up at the sound. He turned towards the door- startled despite himself. Some girl stood there, she was sort of staring, watching him strangely. He recognized her from the halls, he knew she sometimes read while she walked- too caught up in her own world to care much about others walking to class- too lost in the book’s pages to look up and some back. The first thing he noticed we her eyes, they were plain blue. Simple blue, but a blue that rippled as you watched it,. And darkened before you as she caught your eye. It was the blue of Crayola colored pencils and water colors and pastels. He liked it. He looked away.
He suddenly needed to get out of there. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. He’d been caught, and this girl he hardly knew would be asking questions. He turned silently, strode to his desk. He snatched his notebook and the rest of his things from his desk and continued toward the door. His blood pulsed in his arms, his legs. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel- very suddenly- feel everything around him too clearly. Like alarm bells, like tiny ants on his arms- his skin. He was moving too fast to count his steps but the moments slowed too, until he felt the wind touch his neck. He could feel the silence like a fog- a heat. He could feel things that he wasn’t near, wasn’t touching. He could feel her.
And then he was passing her, turning his head as he slid past her through the door. He didn’t know what made him slow- what made his catch her eye and introduce himself, and in those few seconds tell her clearly, “I know you. My name is Marcus.”