Chapter Text
Izzy lay her head down on her crossed arms as she stared absentmindedly across the classroom. She definitely wasn't staring at anyone in particular. She was certainly not staring at the blonde goddess seated in front of the teachers desk. She thinks her names Lydia? Actually, thats a lie, she knows her name’s Lydia because she’s sketched it onto every page of every textbook she owns. But she absolutely wasn’t thinking about the way Lydia twirled her perfect, golden braid as she concentrated on the teacher's words (unlike Izzy).
Absolutely not.
That was not the reason she completely missed Mr. Starkweather calling on her, prompting everyone in the class, including Lydia, to turn their heads and stare at her.
Izzy snapped her head up and looked straight ahead when she made eye contact with the object of her distraction. Oh shit Izzy thought. But wait, did she smile at me? Izzy chose to ignore that fact, deciding it was simply her love-struck teenage imagination playing tricks on her.
“I-uh-um” the whole room sniggered as she struggled her way through explaining herself. “Sorry sir I, uh, I think I missed the question”
“Clearly,” came Mr. Starkweather's annoyed reply. “I asked you what year Abraham Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address?”
Well, Izzy was screwed now. Today was possibly not the first time she had zoned out staring at Lydia during American History, but honestly, it was the most boring subject in the world to Izzy. She would much rather be accidentally setting things on fire because she’s admiring how good Lydia looks in a lab coat in chemistry, or tripping over her feet in gym because she was dazzled by Lydia's slim, pale legs. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just the subject. In any case, Izzy was now attempting to figure out how to break it to Mr. Starkweather that she didn’t know the answer without making an even bigger fool of herself (if that were even possible).
Eventually, she settled on a simple “I don’t know, sir”, which seemed to have been the expected answer for Mr. Starkweather as he simply rolled his eyes and asked if anyone else knew.
Immediately, Lydia’s hand shot up, “1863!” she answered confidently. Izzy let out a small, wistful sigh that she prayed no-one else heard.
“Thank you, Lydia” Mr. Starkweather smiled gratefully at his favourite student before turning back to Izzy. “You know Miss Lightwood, you could learn a lot from Miss Branwell, perhaps she could tutor you?”
Izzy held in her grin at the thought of Lydia tutoring her until everyone had stopped looking at her. Or at least, until she thought everyone had stopped looking at her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Izzy could’ve sworn she saw a pair of bright, blue eyes still staring. But when she turned her head, nothing.
Must have been her imagination again.