Stranger in his own Space

Chris had just been about to peel off his shirt and check for cracked ribs - Dan had definitely broken skin today, and there was another unsalvageable shirt down the drain - when there was another knock at the door. Chris growled and heaved himself off his bed. If it was Eric’s lab partner, back for yet another notebook, Chris was going to throttle the kid.

“Look,” he said, “Eric’s not here, and I’m not going to keep giving you his stuff --”

“I don’t know who Eric is.” Sarah stood in the doorway, mouth pressed into an uncertain line. Dianne sat obediently beside her.

“...Hi.” Chris was careful not to say her name; as far as she was concerned, he had no reason to know her name. “I think you have the wrong room. One floor up or one floor down - those are both girls’ halls.”

“I’m looking for Chris Hensley,” she said.

“That’s me,” Chris said. How did she know his full name?

“I knew as soon as you spoke,” she said, and she reached up, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I listen to your voice all the time.” Then she blushed.

“You do?” Chris asked stupidly.

“Yeah. You read textbooks for me.”

“Oh. Right. What can I do for you?”

Sarah ducked her head. “I didn’t know where else to go. Professor Spinelli handed out an additional case for tomorrow’s reading assignment, one that wasn’t in the book, and it wasn’t on the tape, and when I went to the office, Joyce said maybe you could help me --” Her grip on Dianne’s harness was white-knuckled.

“Of course,” Chris said. “Do you have the case with you?”

Sarah nodded. “It’s in my bag. I’m really sorry - I can come back later if it’s more convenient --”

“Now is fine,” Chris said, and he wanted to kick himself. He sounded too eager, didn’t he? “My roommate’s out. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”
“Thanks.” Sarah stepped over the threshold into Chris’s room, let Dianne lead her over to the desk, and then she sat down in Chris’s chair. He went to close the door behind her, then thought better of it.

And then he panicked. His picture of her was right there over his desk for anyone to see -- expect her. Right.

He perched tentatively on the edge of his bed, close to her, and he hadn’t felt like a stranger in his own room since he was a child.

“All right. What have you got for me?”

Sarah reached into her book bag, searching with deft hands. It was a touch uncanny, the way she felt without turning her head toward her bag. She handed Chris stack of papers stapled together in one corner.

“Here,” she said. “Will you read to me?”

Chris accepted the paper gingerly. “Sure,” he said.

And she smiled at him. “Thanks.”

(Written by Nagi)