Knowing: Amanda POV

It's the boy from church, i can swear my life on it. I don't know how i didn't notice on the first day.

 It's his red skin and girly eyes– i'll recognise them anywhere. He fidgets, taking it out on his pen, caressing its glassy surface and scrutinizing it with more intensity than an Avanti pen should be made to endure.

I had to leave my safe seat at the door when it became too unsafe for my liking a.k.a boys are hoes. This huge-boy (i think his name is Dike) with thick lips too red for his dark skin made it his sacred duty to pester my life. 

I don't know why boys don't seem to get the memo, but there's a fine line between flirting and harassment.

Boy-girl's put every ounce of effort in his body into not looking at me, his eyes are everywhere, the windowsill, the marker board, the desk's plane, the glossy daylight swimming about in rays–anything but me.

 I didn't see that one coming.

But i guess it's not everyday a 'shy' person winks at you in church though, so that counts for something.

His name is embossed on his note in a gorgeously precise slanting cursive (typical; pretty boy=pretty everything) : Obiatu Chideziri Precious. 

He starts making a sketch at the back of a note and pretends to ignore me till the recess bell goes off.