Fallen by Laury Falter

“Why did you end up in New Orleans ?”
    He started to walk down the aisle but stopped suddenly and stared at the floor , as if he were deciding how to answer. “I came here looking for someone,” he finally said .
    “Did you find him?”
    At that point, he glanced up and smiled broadly at me. “Her. And, yes, I found her.”
    As the words left his mouth, t he strangest thing happened. The hair on the back of my neck went haywire. It felt li ke the ends were dancing … criss crossing … twisting together, as if I had just been electrocuted , but only the back of my neck was affected.
    I absentmindedly slapped a hand there to still them.
    Then, to avoid answering any question he may throw at me about why I slapped my neck for no reason, I reached out my free hand. “What’s your name?”
    “Gers hom,” he replied, not moving .
    I reminded myself that my actions were not typical of people my age and let my arm drop to my side.
    “Sweaty palms,” he explained with an awkward glance ; he then brushed them on the side of his slacks for emphasis.
    “It’s alright,” I shrugged. “My name is -”
    “Maggie,” he finished . “Yes, I know.”
    “Curse of being a new student , right?”
    G ershom laughed to himself and muttered , “Something like that … ”
    As he finished talking, my neck hair ignited . Gershom was already heading down the aisle , so he didn’t notice that I had to abruptly slap my neck to impede this reaction again. I was beginning to wonder if I might ha ve an issue with my electrical impulses. No one else I ’ve kn own has had this problem. How could I be the only one?
    As I pondered my newly found oddity, I also noticed t he room was empty which meant I was going to be late for my next class … again. I caught Gershom in the hall just in time to say goodbye , to which he responded with a weak smile and quickly headed in the opposite direction . I thought maybe I offended him somehow , but without any way to tell , I decided not to dwell on it.
    My second class was n’t as far away, thankfully, but it was a repeat of the first. In fact, all my remaining classes were almost a step-by-step replay of first period : awkward introduction to the entire class, students sneaking peeks at me until the next bell rang, and th e inevitable question of whether I was ‘ that girl ’ who delivered messages to heaven ; although , none of the other in quisitors were nearly as rude as Ashley and Bridgette.
    At lunch, I found Gershom sitting alone underneath a tree outside the cafeteria. He was pulling his lunch out of a bag and spread ing it out on th e grass . B efore cross ing his legs, he glanc ed around , as if he was looking for someone but trying to be inconspicuous about it . When I approached him, my neck hair lit up again , so I stopped.
    There had to be a reason for this happening. Then , I realized this boy could help me understand exactly why my body reacted this way .
    I moved forward and stopped right behind him, about to ask if I could sit beside him , when he spoke.
    “Watch out. The grass is wet in some places.”
    I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or no t. B ut h e was no longer glancing around , agitated , and instead was turning to look at me .
    “Yes, I was talking to you.”
    “How did you know who I was without seeing me?” I wondered if I had one of those , strange squeaky or loud heavy , walks that can identif y someone before they enter a room.
    “Lucky guess,” he replied casually, turning back around.
    “Huh,” I muttered and took a seat next to him, cautious to avoid any damp spots.
    After a few minutes of quiet ly laying out our lunch es, – mine being a muffu letta and his being a traditional turkey sandwich – I broke the silence.
    “So where did you come from?”
    “All over. I think I mentioned that.” He was busy pulling open his bag of chips , but I got the distinct impression he was using it as an excuse to avoid looking directly at me .
    “Right