Falling Fast Read Online Free PDF Page A

strode to the front of the room. He leaned against the teacher’s desk and crossed his long, thin legs.
    ‘I thought we would tackle a crucial scene tonight,’ he said. ‘The build-up to and first meeting of the Verona Two.’
    The Verona Two was Mr Nichols’ way of referring to Romeo and Juliet. He always chuckled when he said it. Nobody else ever did.
    Mr Nichols absently wound his scarf a second time round his neck. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘we’ll start with . . .’ He suddenly blinked rapidly. ‘WHERE THE HELL IS
FLYNN?’
    He glared round the room.
    All faces were blank. Then the door opened and Flynn strolled in.

 
5
    ‘Sorry I’m late, sir,’ Flynn said, not sounding sorry at all. He loped over to the nearest desk and leaned casually against it. ‘Something I had to do
after class.’
    My heart pounded.
    Flynn was extraordinary. Everyone was looking at him, and yet he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed.
    ‘Right, well you’re here now.’ Mr Nichols coughed nervously.
    I held my breath. Was that it?
    Mr Nichols hesitated. I was sure he wanted to tell Flynn off properly, but something was holding him back.
    Flynn stared at the teacher, his arms folded, a look of contempt on his face.
    Mr Nichols turned his attention to the two boys playing Servants 1 and 2. They started saying their lines. Badly. Mr Nichols stopped them and explained in some detail what the lines meant. The
boys gave lots of meaningful nods and ‘oh yeahs’, snatching looks at Emmi whenever they could.
    I was avoiding looking at Flynn. The power of his presence was making me feel off balance somehow. I couldn’t explain it. He was like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. Like when the air
gets all heavy and you can almost feel the rumbling before you hear the thunder itself.
    Very slowly, I raised my eyes a little, so I could see his face. He was staring at his shoes. They were worn and scuffed. In fact – I stared at his shirt and trousers – all his
clothes looked worn. I hadn’t noticed before, but the knees of his trousers were shiny, almost threadbare, and you could see lines at the bottoms of the legs where the hems must have been let
down.
    None of this stopped him from looking totally cool.
    Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. He was looking at me, I knew he was. Oh God, he’d seen me staring at him. I averted my eyes to the floor, then let them travel
sideways.
    I was still sure he was looking at me. I glanced up.
    The intensity of his stare almost knocked me out. His face was rigid. Furious. Almost like he was challenging me not to laugh at him. I stared back; a fish caught on a hook. Why was he so
angry?
    My heart was pummelling at my chest now, so loudly it was drowning out Mr Nichols. I wanted to look away. But I couldn’t. It was like Flynn was holding me in his gaze, pinning me down.
    As we looked at each other, the hard look in his eyes softened. He wasn’t smiling exactly, but at least he didn’t seem angry any more.
    I gazed at him, mesmerised by his face, by the shape of it, the lines of it. It wasn’t an obviously good-looking face, maybe, but there was something about it – something . . . well
. . . beautiful. His eyes were certainly beautiful. In the bright overhead light they shone gold, like a lion’s.
    And then Mr Nichols’ voice boomed out more loudly. ‘Once more, then, and we’ll move on to Romeo noticing Juliet for the first time.’
    Flynn looked away.
    As everyone bustled about, saying lines, listening to explanations, Flynn moved slowly towards the centre of the room. He walked, as before, in that loping, slightly swaggering way of his. This
hot, powerful glow radiated through my whole body. It was terrifying how strong it was. How it took me over. How I knew what it meant, instinctively, even though I’d never ever felt anything
like it before.
    I wanted him to touch me. To kiss me . . . I looked down at my hands. They were actually shaking.
    Flynn