Pieces of a Mending Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

lip out of habit. It’s a nervous tick, something I do when I’m feeling uncomfortable or vulnerable. My name being spewed from peoples mouths’ is not something I consider desirable, and Tristan must see this on my face, because he breaks the short silence again.
                  “I know you’re going to be ambushed all day by curious students,” he smirks, motioning towards the few students looking at me as they leave the room, “but I was wondering if you’d want to-”
                  He gets interrupted by Scott’s naturally traveling voice. “Katherine, enjoy your first class? No teacher in this whole school is better than Mrs. Hollis,” he finishes, sending a wink in her direction. He winks an awful lot. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the blackboard, writing down various things I vaguely recognize.
                  I am freed from having to converse with Scott by the warning bell that tells us we have two minutes to get to the next class. Turning back towards Tristan, I feel my usual boldness about to reappear. “Where’s your next class?” I ask.
                  He seems surprised, eyes darting to Scott’s back before returning to my gaze. “AP English. Yours?”
                  I smile. “AP English,” I say, som ewhat flirty. Th at surprises me slightly; I’m not the flirty type.
                  Tristan smiles, his ch eeks turning a faint rose color, which is just adorable. “Then we best get going,” he says, motioning towards the staircase leading to the second floor.
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
                  Walking next to Tristan to English is distracting to say the least. I keep fighting of f the urge to stare at him and more than once we’re cor nered in the hallway by people introducing themselve s to me . Only a few acknowledge the boy beside me. Ev entually, we arrive at room 213, about three minutes after the bell . Luckily, our excuse makes sense; I got lost on the other side of the school and Tristan dutifully showed me the way. The teacher was fabulous, to say the least.
                  We take the last two seats available in the room, on opposite sides of the tiny class. Mr. Morrison, the middle-aged, pudgy, upbeat man clearly has the entire class charmed with his presence, and I immediately take a liking to him. We receive our first assignment, which is to write a personal essay about our worst fears, in less than seven-hundred words. I stuff the assignment requirements sheet into my bag, not wanting to think about fears right now.
                  I take the opportunity to glance around the classroom during Mr. Morrison’s lecture; I love English and have already studied Pride and Prejudice, so I’m paying little attention. The students in the room seem to be fixated on the lesson, but I catch the kind eyes of a girl sitting in the seat behind me. She smiles, showing a mouth full of braces with red bands. I smile tentatively back, hoping to make a friend out of the seemingly quiet girl.
                  Tristan surprises me yet again as the class continues. Not only does he thoroughly know the material, but has very interesting interpretations of major characters. The students in the room seem to be having a difficult time looking at him, which sparks my curiosity. Mr. Morrison seems thrilled with Tristan’s know ledge, but it is obvious he’s i s hesitant to reveal his insight. He seems … almost shy.
                  I couldn’t imagine a boy like Tristan being shy; it went against every single teenage stereotype known to man. His strong build, incredibly handsome face, sweet voice… I feel a flush grace my cheeks as I think about him, so I quickly avert my thoughts elsewhere. I glance up at him once more as the teacher turns the lights off to play us a scene from the movie of my favorite Jane Austen novel.
                  He’