So she wasn't one of the most gorgeous girls ever to have walked the Earth. Yet she also wasn't altogether hopeless. True, her brown hair was average, her eyes were a dull gray and her style of clothing never really seemed fashionable. The only thing she was truly thankful for was the state of her skin. Something that at least gave some girls reason to be jealous off. If it was up to her, though, she rather traded those jealous glances for some interested ones from the guys. And than preferably not the ones who looked at her already. She was so terribly not interested in the thin, dull, nerdy smart guys in her class. She was smart enough already. She'd rather have one that would make her laugh.
“Frin Dottir, pay attention please!”
Her head snapped back to where her professor stood. Did he just ask her something? She must have looked especially dumb, cause laughter sounded all around her. She spotted the screen behind the teacher and gulped.
With a slam she closed the book on her desk and turned.
If looks could only kill.
Jared sat behind her. A crooked grin spread across his dimpled face. His smartphone positioned so that the little circular camera was directly aimed at the picture that was now concealed by the cover of her Math book.
She felt her cheeks flare. He had done it before. Linked his toy to the class' computer and projected what ever was in front of him on the large screen. This time she had been his target. Why oh why did she not pay attention to where she seated herself during this class.
“Could you be so kind as to keep your adoration of Norse Gods out of my classroom? I would like you to actually learn some Math in here. The classics are being taught next door, I believe.”
She nodded gravely, seething inside and totally planning to return the prank on Jared.
His immediate punishment was small but sweet, when the teacher ordered him to hand over his phone.
Frin sighed and tried, for the time being, to pay attention. When she opened her book again, she only briefly glanced at the sketch of the one who always seemed to pry her eyes away from what mattered.
It was the one picture she found that showed the Norse God like a proud man. Like someone she could actually like. His name she found scrumptious. Alight with the same mischief his reputation was connected to.
The face was drawn in shadows. The horns of his strange helmet blinking in a light that came from behind. A cape in a colour that was probably green. Just like his eyes. The only thing in the drawing that was actually beautiful. She could stare at them for hours. Dreaming of the man behind the myth: Loki.
A shiver ran trough her and quickly she shoved the picture behind her book.
Focus on the boring lesson now. Dreams were for later.
The schoolbell rang and she was the first to jump up. Books shoved in her bag, picture carefully hidden between the pages, she leaped out of the classroom. Glad to be free at last. This had been her last hour of torment. No more until next Monday morning.
The bus took her to the last station on route, and she stepped out onto the dusty pavement in the middle of what she liked to call: nowhere.
Frin walked to where her bike was parked. Unlocked it and raced towards the little hovel she had the pleasure of calling home.
That was, she tried.
She got halfway and then her world seemed to blow up.
Too shocked to scream, she just lay on the ground where she had fallen after the light had hit the Earth right in front of her. Her eyes were huge and she was sure they would fall out of their sockets should she not blink within the next few seconds.
It was a tornado. Yet nothing really flew around. And the column of wind didn't move. Tornado's moved. This one didn't.
It hit the ground. There was a light. Blue and white. It felt like an earthquake and she was in it.
The funny thing was, she seemed to be the only one. The few people she caught sight of in the distance, simply continued on their path down the bumpy, little street she was in the middle off. You would think people would notice a huge pile of twirling dust, but somehow she was the only one who saw.
And suddenly it was gone.
The tornado that wasn't a tornado, the light and the trembling road. No wait, there was still trembling. But it was probably just her.
She looked up. Dazed and blinking rapidly, trying to focus. There was someone there that had not been there a moment ago.
Someone tall. Someone with a weird helmet and a cape.
She was só dreaming. This was nòt happening.
It was so ridiculously impossible, she felt herself grin even before she could stop the muscles in her cheeks from flexing.
Getting up from the street seemed more difficult than getting down there in the first place. Discarding her bike, she took a few steps forward, until the strangers eyes suddenly flicked towards her. She was still grinning, she could feel it. Her smile, however, was nothing compared to the wicked grin that was plastered all over his pale face. It was infectious and for a brief few seconds, they just stood and stared and grinned. Until suddenly he took one large step forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it back.
“You can see me?”
Did he really just growled at her? And why in the world was he pulling her head back. She was totally fine with looking up at him from this short distance. She really didn't need any help with that.
“Let go of me, you big, green, horned dude. Of course I can see you. I'm not blind.”
He did let go. But he didn't move away just yet.
Massaging the back of her head, not feeling the need to grin anymore, Frin swiftly looked around. There was no one there. Which wasn't altogether unusual. Considering her small abode lay on the outskirt of the tiny town she lived in.
“Really?” She mumbled, “you're calling me peculiar? Have you even looked in a mirror lately?”
A long, cool finger lifted her chin up and suddenly she was a mere few inches away from his face. Even swallowing felt impossible at that moment.
His eyes were green.
“If you knew who you were addressing, you would not dare to be so impudent.”
He let her go with a flick of his wrist and finally took a few steps away from her. Allowing her to breath again.
Looking at her hands and wondering why they were shaking, she muttered: “Aren't you suppose to call me mortal?”
He didn't respond. Quickly she turned around, suddenly afraid he wouldn't be there anymore. She might just be losing her mind, but if she was, she'd prefer to have a guy like that present. Then, at least she would have something to look at, while psychiatrists were working on deciphering her brain.
He was there, but he was not looking at her. He was staring at something that was on the ground. It was her backpack. And it was open. A book lay on top and a picture was partially sticking out.