Hopefully this would be our only class together.
The first hour bell rang. Mr. Jones walked in and began speaking, spitting on everyone in the front few rows. Connor kept whispering things about ‘banging chicks’ and ‘getting digits’ while tugging on his gold necklace.
I should’ve sat in the front row.
* * *
Connor followed me to science class, and at first I debated the idea that he was a stalker, but then realized that the schedule gods really hated my guts. I wished there was a decent way to say, ‘leave me the heck alone and stop talking about sex’ without sounding like an ass.
When he pulled out a comb and started brushing at his nonexistent chin hair, I was determined that school really stood for freaking hell.
I considered calling him Eminem, but talking to him only encouraged his conversations about vaginas.
I zoned out for most of my morning classes—realizing that they were all the same. Syllabus, teacher goals, ice breakers. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Being homeschooled all my life, I was happy to see that high school was exactly the same as all the movies portrayed it to be: scuffed up navy blue lockers, pretty girls giggling by the drinking fountain, student clubs posters hanging up, and a lot of gossiping voices.
Every now and then I saw the Bus Stop Girl in the hallways, but she always kept her head down, or was talking to some guy with red hair.
Is he her boyfriend?
I didn’t know why I cared.
The guy made her smile, which was like a hidden treat. She didn’t do it often—she was more into frowning. It was weird, but her frowns made her more intriguing to me.
She and the guy never touched. She mostly hugged that same notebook I saw her writing in earlier.
God. Now I seem like the stalker.
I shuffled my feet and hurried off to my next class.
By this point it wasn’t a surprise that Connor was waiting inside my world history class.
5 Aria
The school day hours crawled by like years, which was fine because I knew at the end of the day I would have to be at a doctor’s appointment, something I really didn’t want to do. I’d rather run from reality than face it.
Whenever Mike and his friends crossed my path, he made sure to never make eye contact. Most of his friends didn’t know we were related.
At lunch, I sat with Simon and watched him open and close his milk jug as his eyes stayed glued to his historically long crush, Tori, also known as the most popular girl in our junior class. Also, also known as the girl who egged Simon’s house last year. He was still in denial about that one, claiming it was Eric Smith who was behind the yolks.
Like all hopeless romantics, love blinded him from the truth. It was all very tragic, yet somehow hopeful all at the same time.
Simon kept talking about Tori as if she were his greatest dream come to life. “She sits three rows behind me in chemistry. I know you’ll probably disagree, but she’s smart, Aria.” His words were drunk on a fictional romance as he spoke of his imaginary lover.
Sometimes I wondered if he saw tiny birds flying around her like Snow White or something.
“You would be the one to crush on the rudest girl in our class.”
The way his smile spread across his face made me smirk. “She’s not rude, she’s just damaged. Those are my favorite kinds of girls, the flawed ones. It makes it easier for them to put up with my flaws.”
“Is that why I’m your best friend? Because I’m flawed?”
“No. Mainly you’re my best friend because you’re wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt with the faces of the four renaissance artists on it.”
I glanced at my favorite shirt and grinned. “It’s almost embarrassing how cool I am.”
“Almost,” Simon joked before he turned back toward Tori. “She’s so beautiful.”
“You’re too good for her.”
His elbows rested against the cafeteria table and his hands cupped his chin. “She’s the sun, and I’m the pale man craving her light.”
I chuckled. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say something so extremely awkward.”
“Imagine our kids…” He released a breath of happiness. “Stunning nerdy blond children with freckles and glasses.” He paused, looked at me, and frowned. “Sorry. Best friend personal foul. No kids talk.”
I wiggled in my seat. “You do know her hair isn’t really blond, right? It’s a bad dye job.”
“Says the auburn girl who was born charcoal black,” Simon cockily replied.
“Touché. But let’s not forget the main issue with the love of your life.” I gestured toward Eric, who was sitting beside Tori. “She’s off the market.”
“For now. Rumor has it that he’s going to break things off with her.”
“And where are these rumors from?”
His cheeks rose up. “I have my sources.”