C11 Eleven

Skylar's POV

Homecoming.

That's all there was to be heard at school today. Girls were highly pumped up, whispering and giggling about the dresses they were going to fill up their closets with. While the boys were shamelessly eyeing the girls, deciding who to ask out for the dance. Every single hallway of Crestmont High was drowning with all the hype.

It was sickeningly sweet.

People like me could almost throw up rainbows and confetti just by looking at those excited teenage faces. It wasn't that I was against this all, it was just my lack of interest in such events which made me way less excited than anyone else.

"Who're you going with, Hanna?" I initiated a casual conversation, leaning against my palms which were splayed out on either side of me. Angling up my chin a little, I almost winced at the harsh sunlight. Gym classes were always so torturous.

"No one?" She replied, sounding a bit confused.

"Well," I started, squinting my eyes before looking back at her. We both were sitting side by side on one of the benches surrounding the basketball court. "I wasn't planning on going either."

"You're not going? Not even with Alex?" She asked.

I snorted out loud. "Alex? Why would I go with him? I'm pretty sure he's already asked out a girl for the dance anyway."

It would be too disgusting to be your best friend's date, especially at homecoming. That only happened in stories where the best friend was hot. I could never think about Alex in that way.

Hanna hummed softly in response just when Coach blew loudly on his whistle. He made us play basketball today, which wouldn't have been bad if only my skin hadn't been burning like a vampire under the sun.

I didn't understand how it got so cold at night and so freakishly hot in the mornings, especially during PE classes. So much so that I got all sweaty without even having to do anything.

I broke out from my thoughts when I saw the basketball up in the air, soaring right towards me. One more second and it would've hit me right in the face, but I caught it right on time and swung it in the basket.

The only problem was that it didn't exactly go inside the basket.

Coach blew on the whistle, announcing an end to the game. I pressed my lips in a thin line and tried avoiding any accusing glares from the other players which were directed towards me. So what if I made them lose? Who asked that random dude to throw the ball towards me anyway?

Just as I was about to head to the locker room like everybody else, I was stopped.

"Skylar, you stay here." I heard Coach's voice.

I was officially done.

Wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my gym shorts, I waited for everyone to get inside before making my way towards Coach.

"Yes, Coach?" I asked breathlessly.

If he was going to give me a lecture on the basics of basketball, I was going to die for real this time. Coach was an old guy whose ultimate goal of life was to build up immense enthusiasm for sports inside us, even in people like me. It was unnecessary, but it's not like I could ever say that to Coach.

"Would you mind helping me get the basketballs back in the room?" He asked.

I exhaled deeply and nodded. "Sure."

Collecting two of the balls in my hands, I slightly winced at the impact of it against the gash on my injured one. It had healed up pretty quickly, but it still hurt.

"How're your parents doing?" He asked as I followed behind him.

I couldn't help but frown a little at that. Something was definitely up if he was asking me about my parents. Even though Coach knew my parents, especially my dad with him being a well-known lawyer in our town, it was still unusual of him to ask me about them out of the blue.

Or maybe I was just thinking too much.

"They're great." I kept it short as I entered the small room, placing the balls in the large basket. "Busy with the work and stuff."

"Ah, yes of course." He nodded, going over to his large desk and picking up some papers. "I saw your father near that park yesterday. I would've stopped by for some chat but unfortunately, I was in a hurry."

I looked at him in surprise. "What park?"

He looked up from those papers at me as if he hadn't expected me to ask that. He must not have seen the seriousness on my face though, because he waved it off the next second and went back to his papers. "Must've been something related to the business."

I frowned at him again. Whatever he was saying was not making any sense to me.

"You must've mistaken him with someone else," I gave him a confused smile. "Dad's out of city at the moment actually."

His brows furrowed at that. "Really? I'm sure it was Paul that I saw."

Even when I tried thinking of a reasonable explanation for that, I couldn't think of any. Why would Dad be here when he was out of city with Mom?

Right then, the bell rang and I took a step back, ready to leave. "Can I go to class now? I really don't want to miss it."

"Yes. Yes." He nodded, waving me off.

I rushed out of the room then, feeling a bit queasy in the stomach. I didn't know why I was feeling that way. Maybe it was just the overthinking, or maybe it had something to do with what Coach just told me.

•••••

The entire last period was free for us since half of the class was busy volunteering to help set up the homecoming decorations. All thanks to our sweet, old principal who thought involving ourselves with the homecoming preparations would make it an even more enjoyable experience for us--since all this would be our own hard work.

I wasn't against it. Not when I was the happiest when I had a painting job at hand.

Students who were willing to volunteer were separated into groups and given different preparations to handle. Some were setting up the decorations, while the others were making the posters. I looked down at the Styrofoam ball in my hand which I had halfway covered with glass pieces to make it look like small disco balls.

"I've never seen you working quite so hard, Anderson." I heard a familiar voice behind me. A low voice with hints of amusement lacing it.

Although I knew who it was, I still looked over my shoulder and saw Caden's tall form leaning against one of the gymnasium pillars behind me. It was a surprise to see him without his leather jacket for once, his black flannel sleeves rolled up till his forearms.

I forced my eyes away from him, my heart lurching a little when I looked up into his dark green ones.

"Hey." I rushed it out, turning back to the Styrofoam ball in my hands. Then I glanced back at him. "Wouldn't it be nice if you cared to help too?"

He raised a brow at me as if that suggestion alone was stupid. "I'm fine where I am."

"'Course you are." I smirked and continued sticking on the glass pieces. "You'd probably make a mess and ruin everything."

Caden tsked behind me. "Clearly, Anderson, I'm not the one who looks like I had a fight with a paint bucket."

He wasn't wrong. Most of my baseball tee, which had been white when I'd changed into it this morning, was splattered with paint splotches. I didn't even remember having any sorts of paints near me. Mom absolutely hated to find paint-splattered clothes in the laundry.

"Whatever, Caden." Now that he was here, I realised that I hadn't really seen him since the day he gave me a ride back to my house, not even once. Which brought me to the fact that he had lied to me that day.

"You lied to me," I spoke and turned back towards him. It was a little surprising to find him already staring at me, but I willed myself not to ponder over it too much.

He gave me a blank look in response, crossing his arms. My gaze involuntarily flickered to his rolled-up sleeves and I found myself wondering if he had any tattoos. He seemed like the guy who'd get tattoos just to make himself look more intimidating.

"You said Alex was the one who told you where I live." I frowned at him. "He didn't. And you lied."

"I didn't lie, Anderson." He replied plainly. "I never mentioned a name. All I said was your boyfriend."

I eyed him in disbelief. Was he for real?

"I can't believe you just said that," I muttered, turning back to the work at hand. He always had that I hate you and everyone in this fucking place look going on, and it ticked me off. It was as if he didn't care about absolutely anything. Which couldn't be true. He must care about something.

"How's your hand?" He asked after a while, once again breaking me out of my thoughts. I didn't turn around to look at him, though. For some reason, my face felt hot, and my heart was beating a bit erratically.

"It's fine," I mumbled, trying to sound just as unbothered as he had sounded. Once the ball was done, I placed it down on the table in front of me. "So, are you going to the homecoming?"

He didn't even seem to think a bit before speaking, "Why would I?"

Unlike me, he could get anyone to go at the homecoming with. But then again, he didn't seem like the type who'd love to attend school dances.

"I'm not going either." I shrugged, picking up the three Styrofoam balls which were all ready and placed them cautiously inside a big carton right beside him. "I'll probably be spending my night with Chicken."

When I looked back up at him, I was once again met by his gaze. It was a bit bizarre how much I hated looking people in the eye. But with him, it didn't seem that bad.

Maybe because his eyes were really, really beautiful.

"Chicken?" He asked, and I saw the way one corner of his lips tugged up in a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. This is what I didn't get. One moment I felt highly intimidated by him, and the next, he was doing things, smirking, to annoy me.

"My cat."

"And you're still helping them decorate this shitshow?" He asked.

I shrugged once again and picked up the brown carton. "It's a nice distraction."

Caden was still staring. And I really wanted to look away, but his gaze rooted me to my spot. It was starting to do things to me. Strange things.

"A distraction, all right." He murmured, tipping his head back against the pillar and looking up at the ceiling. As he raked a hand through his midnight black hair, I found myself still rooted to my spot, my eyes following the action.

If I thought he didn't notice, I was so wrong.

"And you should really stop staring, Anderson." He straightened up from his position and eyed me once again, towering over me. There were absolutely no traces of a smirk or a smile on his lips, but the strange glint in his eyes said otherwise. "People might take it the wrong way."

Yeah, he was definitely crazy.