The Academy--Chapter Four, Continued, Continued

Yo, I'm not getting any comments. Anybody wanna argue an opinion (good or bad) of my story??? :D I hope you all are caught up on your reading--sorry that it's kinda difficult to find where you were reading last because of the random cutting-offs. :/ (Me, assuming that people read this.)

“Alright.” He seemed satisfied with that reply. He stood, brushing the snow off of the back of his pants and gazed down at me. “Your angel looks a bit frazzled,” he observed.
I, too, got up and looked at my artwork. Indeed, my angel’s arms were large and had been carelessly created. The legs were wide and ugly. Snow was strewn about the imprint in a messy array. I laughed.
“Oops.”
“Worried about upcoming exams?”
How can he read me from the way that I create a snow angel? I wondered.
“Just a bit.” I glanced over at his snow angel and said, “And, apparently, you’re not worried at all.”
His snow angel was as perfect as snow artwork could be. Kicking some new fallen flakes over my mess, I sighed. Frankly, the way in which we had moved the snow around was a perfect symbol of our inner thoughts and feelings. Everyone I had ever known got at least a little stressed out about end-of-the-year tests. And here was the new guy, impeccably calm about the entire ordeal. And he was even the one who had known about the corruptness of our school from the beginning.
Thoughts of this still hit my brain with full force, causing it to become fragile from the frequent battering. I frowned and willed them to leave my mind. I knew that I had been in desperate need to express my realizations to Alastair, but I didn’t want to bring them up. Something about the fact that my school was wrong, was bad, made me ashamed and embarrassed to speak of it to him. I was rarely in the wrong. That made it even more difficult to admit myself to him.
“Alastair?”
He looked at me. My eyes caught his and I could tell that he was attempting to run past my eyes and enter my innermost thoughts. I looked away to lock him out.
“Never mind.”
After a moment’s pause, Alastair said, “I don’t think you’re just worried about exams.” He scrutinized my snow angel again.
I let out a long breath and turned around a bit so that I didn’t face him, folding my arms and allowing my eyebrows to furrow. How could he be so irritating? Stop trying to pry! I commanded him in my head, my eyes gathering tears. I wouldn’t let myself cry–that would add to the embarrassment of having to admit to him my, and my school’s, faults.
“Poppy.”
I only slightly rotated toward him to see him kneel down and proceed to scrape off the snow that I had scattered over my angel. He carefully pushed it all to the edges, then continued–he began creating new lines by packing snow and using his hands to level the bottom of the imprint.
“See? You’re not really that bad. Just gotta fix the edges a bit.” He smiled, attempting to lighten my mood. His previously serious and almost austere demeanor was dropped, landing with a thud on the snow beneath us. I let my arms drop beside me, as well, and sniffed.
“Yes, but–” I dropped onto my knees beside him and sighed, exasperated. “You just made me that way. By myself I was still. . .” I ran a finger over the snow angel in zigzag lines to cross it out and make it flawed again.