Bridge Of Solitude - Volume 1 Chapter 8 A Miracle In The Literature Cla

“What?” Margaret’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“Arthur Bridge, will be your new partner. Now, get to your seat. It’s already too late.” Mr. Collins didn’t even let her protest or process the information. He walked back to his table and began to start the class.

Margaret forced her mouth shut and looked around for a certain lazy dude, who must surely be sleeping by now. She easily found him, or more accurately, she found his messy windswept head and walked towards it.

Arthur was surprisingly awake, not fully though. He had one of his elbow up on the desk and his chin perched in his palm, as he looked ahead with his signature blank stare.

The first thing Margaret wanted to do now was to figure out whether he was half asleep or half awake. The whole college agrees that Arthur Bridge was a mystery best left unsolved, a book better left unopened. But Margaret thought otherwise, it’s a case where you only get more curious the more you are denied to know it.

Wait no, that’s not it.

If she was going to share a class with him for a whole year, she at least needs to know if he was asleep or awake. Right?

She stood beside the desk and pondered over what she should do now. Should she introduce herself, or should she mind her own business? Would he even care? Would he be mad if she sat on the same desk with him? Does he even know he has a partner for the class?

‘Ah, this is so frustrating. So many questions without answers.’

“Alright guys, this will be the material for this semester. I expect you to have your own copies by next Monday.” Mr. Collins wrote the names of the books they were going to read on the white board, along with other necessary details, like authors, year published and so.

Margaret turned her attention from her professor to her partner and then cleared her throat, hoping to get him to notice her presence beside him. She was standing literally three feet from him but he was still oblivious of her.

‘Either I must be really invisible or he must be blind.’ She grumbled furiously.

Margaret once again cleared her throat, painfully loudly now. “Um…Hi.” She spoke, and Arthur finally turned his head towards her. And for a second there, his eyes opened fully, but they turned down so quickly she wasn’t sure if it happened.

She extended her hand to him. “I’m Margaret Laurence. Your partner for the Literature class.” Arthur turned away with a bored face and Margaret dropped her hand with a heavy sigh.

This was going to be a tough year.

Arthur didn’t move aside to let her sit, so she could only hop around him and sat down at the other end. She then took out a notebook and began to copy the contents on the board into her notes.

“Arthur.”

Margaret heard a voice and almost dropped the pen in her hands. She slowly turned to her left, towards her partner and found him looking, actually looking at her.

“I’m Arthur.” He spoke slowly, his voice was hoarse but gentle.

Ah, so he decided to grant the poor girl his attention.

Margaret was still slightly mad about his rude behavior but she couldn’t stop herself from grinning widely. “I’m Margaret. You can call me Maggie, but never Margie.” She gave him a brief glare before she regained her smile again.

It was only their first real conversation, and Margaret already gave him a warning. An adorable warning but it was a warning nonetheless. She then started to worry if she acted too familiarly and kept her gaze on Arthur.

He didn’t seem to mind anything as he gave her a light nod and turned away. But to Margaret’s disbelief, she found a ghost of a smile surfacing on his face. And for the first time that day, she was having a positive feeling about things.

The rest of the class passed by in a rather dull manner. Since they didn’t have the books yet, Mr. Collins just talked about the material they were assigned, their history and influence on literature.

Margaret took casual glances to her left every five minutes, wondering why Arthur chose Literature. He doesn’t seem to be the type to sit and read. She knew she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover but

Arthur wasn’t a book.

He was a forbidden grimoire, extremely dangerous and attractive. Margaret mused, nodding at her evaluation of her partner.

The bell rang loudly for the last time and Margaret stuffed her things into her bag and zipped it close. She then slung it across her shoulder and turned to the side.

“So, I will see you again fri-” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because the space beside her was empty. She looked towards the door but didn’t find him there either.

He’s gone? So fast?

Instant teleportation?

“Margie-” She heard Jacob’s voice and saw him marching towards her, with an unpleasant look on his face. Margaret rose to her feet in a reflex and rushed towards the door, ignoring her throbbing ankle.

“Margie-wait. Stop.” Jacob was a distance away and was slowed down by the other students in the way so he could only yell.

Margaret didn’t pause. She used all the energy she had and shoved past the other students as she made her way out of the classroom and rushed towards the main gates of the campus. She heard Jacob calling behind her and quickened her pace.

She needed to think of something or it’s a given that the football jock will catch the cute little geek.

She crossed the main gates and sprinted across the road, and without any other thought, jumped in the bus waiting there. She didn’t bother to look back to see if Jacob was still chasing her. She slumped herself in a seat as the bus started moving. She let out a miserably loud groan, both from the searing pain in her ankle and her stupidity.

Why did she run away like that?

She didn’t need to pull that little stunt at all. She could’ve just talked to him and walk away, but she had been through a lot today and was exhausted physically and mentally. When she heard Jacob’s irritated voice, she panicked and ran without thinking.

Now he was going to find her tomorrow and she can only hope that he lets her off lightly.

And why the hell did she get in a bus? She lives at a walk-able distance from the college, fifteen minutes if she hurried along.

Now she has to get off at the next stop and take another bus back home.

And to make matters worse, she was tasting agony from the pain in her ankle. It must’ve worsened due to all that unnecessary running.

She sighed again and slumped back in her seat, closing her eyes in pain.

‘This year was going to be tough.’