Help with english story?

James stood motionless outside the window, praying that Lucy would not notice that he was there. Why was she holding a bloody knife? Had she killed someone? And what if she spotted him? Would he become her next victim? As these terrifying thoughts raced through his mind, James was nevertheless fascinated by the strangeness of the situation. Here he was, standing outside the home of Lucy Dawson, that mysterious loner whose very isolation had often caused his mind to dwell on her. Tall and skinny, awkward, with long, straight, mousy brown hair, Lucy had never been the life of the party. No one knew her well. She rode the bus in silence and in cl, she never made eye contact with anyone, never volunteered an answer and declined to participate when teachers tried to include her in the discussion. Still, she made straight A's and over the years, teachers and students alike had learned to leave her alone. But somehow, images of her often came to him in odd moments. While plain in every other way and often dd in baggy clothes that made her spare frame appear even thinner, behind her thick gles, Lucy had bright brown eyes, fringed by long thick lashes. He'd seen them once, in the early days before the bullies had realized that it was a waste of time to taunt her. Someone had knocked her books from her hand and her gles from her face. As other students jeered, his Sunday school training had kicked in and he had reached down to help her gather her belongings. Then, he had come face to face with those eyes - beautiful eyes that were soon veiled behind those horrid lenses. Before hiding them, she had smiled briefly, so faintly that he was hardly sure that he had seen it. Still, he had never forgotten it. It haunted his dreams. That had been three years ago, when they were in the seventh grade, but he dared not let his friends know that he, an up-and-coming jock, had a crush on the school nerd. Such lovely eyes... and now, here they were, fixed on him, their owner having made her way to the window while he was lost in daydreams, and in her hand, still, the bloody knife.