Snippet #2429548

The day was as boring as usual. Jarrob paid no mind to the teachers, instead succumbing into his own mind. Seriously, who could blame him? The Mortals were annoying, the grown ups especially. Well, grown ups of any species were annoying, his mother was living proof of that. But he supposed it didn't help matters that he had been talking to - and assisting - an Angel. It was crazy, unbelievable, impossible. Yet it had happened.

At the end of the day, head pounding more than ever, Jarrob headed to his locker, opening it and placing his head against the one next to it. The cool metal did little to soothe his aching head. "I was wondering, what's your name? You know mine, so I might aas well know yours." He knew that voice. He doubted he'd ever be able to forget it. The Angel who cared and spared, the girl who changed and complicated literally everything he had thought was true, was one hundred percent fact. Now he was confused.

Jarrob hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, closing the door that seperated them. Looking downwards, he responded: "Jarrob," he whispered, barely audible, somewhat reluctantly. What if she tracked him? Reported him? But why would she do that? If she wished him harm she would've just killed him... Wouldn't she. Well, unless she was a spy, gathering information... Oh crap. "My name's Jarrob."