Between the gaps in the leaves, the orange and white school uniform flickered in and out of view.
Knowing she could no longer hide, Hannah didn’t wait for Jimmy Simmons to walk over and stood up herself.
Her voice was indifferent, betraying no emotion. "Why are you following ?"
"How did you know I was following you?" Jimmy Simmons said with a hooked corner of his mouth, his deanor displaying a hint of the wilful mischief of the young and wealthy. "Could it be that you’ve been secretly paying attention to all this ti?"
Teenagers around fifteen or sixteen are in their rebellious phase, especially ones like Jimmy Simmons, who are both difficult and overly confident.
To Arnold Simmons, or to the senior who was beaten and forced to transfer schools after being hospitalized, a rich second-generation like Jimmy Simmons was akin to a demonic presence.
The affluent life from a young age and the doting of his elders had shaped his days at the top of the social pyramid, making him even more reckless.
Hannah didn’t want to engage with his confidence, nor his excessively fervent gaze, and turned to leave.
Jimmy Simmons wasn’t upset by Hannah’s coldness. He simply followed her, walking shoulder to shoulder with her, "The incident at the school gate last ti was my brothers’ fault. They knew I was interested in you, that’s why they stopped you."
The ambiguous "interested in you" slipped casually from Jimmy Simmons’ lips.
He seed to have done this sort of thing countless tis, with remarkable ease.
But that was assuming the girl in question liked him back.
Hannah, however, was not one of them.
"Do you often stop girls like this?"
"What?"
Jimmy Simmons was montarily baffled, but then quickly caught on, thinking perhaps Hannah was jealous.
He could understand; it was normal, after all.
Because indeed, there were many girls who liked him.
"Would you believe if I said this is the first ti?"
Jimmy Simmons wasn’t carrying a backpack, and his uniform wasn’t properly worn, loosely revealing the brightly colored T-shirt underneath, perhaps his ruffian and bad-boy allure was particularly appealing to girls.
Hannah glanced at him and said, "I can’t be bothered to believe it."
She didn’t even deign to give a perfunctory response.
But the more she acted like this, the more Arnold Simmons beca interested.
Upon their first brief encounter, he only noted Hannah’s face under the light; obedient yet radiant, a set of contradictory traits that nonetheless seed perfectly harmonious on her.
Like a finely detailed ink wash painting, the sound of babbling streams evoked a sense of transcendence.
Later, the information gathered from those around him spoke mostly of the amazing new student who transferred in during the third year, and how compliant and gentle she was—all descriptions fitting that of a good girl, an exemplary student.
Jimmy Simmons had dated this type of girl before but realized after spending more ti with them that their so-called obedience was often contrived, exaggerated, and pretentious.
But Hannah was different.
The smile on Jimmy Simmons’ face deepened, as his patient, even eager deanor shone through in the face of Hannah’s cursory indifference. He initiated a conversation, "I heard you used to study in Capital City?"
Hannah focused on the road ahead, responding in a tone neither warm nor cold, "Hmm."
Any response was better than none at all.
Jimmy Simmons beca more animated, his enthusiasm overflowing, "I heard from the teachers of senior year that you have very good grades."
Passing by her current residence, Hannah didn’t glance at it and instead continued to walk on.
She didn’t want Jimmy Simmons to know where she lived.
He was a persistent character with a streak of pathological madness hidden within, sothing she had already witnessed.
But she had only walked a few steps when Jimmy Simmons stopped.
Sensing sothing, Hannah turned to look at him.
Jimmy Simmons stretched a hand towards the residential area on the left, curving his lips into a smile.
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