Part 8 (2/2)
Pathetic, I know.
I luck out in Biology. Ms. Sepulveda, a tiny woman, looks too tired and depressed to give a d.a.m.n. She whispers something incomprehensible when I introduce myself to her, and gestures vaguely toward some empty seats at the back of the cla.s.s. While I head straight to the last row, she flicks off the lights, and pops in a video about cell cycles.
My stomach is growling so loud right now. I try coughing to disguise the telltale roar, but I know the people around me aren't fooled.
After a particularly vicious growl, the girl at the desk in front of me turns around, grinning. The first thing I notice about her is her nose, which is large and slightly off-center. Strangely, it works with her face, giving it a quirky appeal. Also, she has some big hair. The wild black curls that swirl around her face give the impression of sentient life. I can easily imagine a lock of it springing out and wrapping itself around my neck.
”Hi,” she says in a loud bright voice. ”Your name's Juliet, right? I'm Tanya. So, where are you from?” Her curls bounce nervously with her most minute movement.
I kind of want to stick a hand out and see if her hair will shake it. ”Hey,” I say, sitting up straight, and forcing a smile to my lips. ”I actually just transferred from Jefferson.”
”Oh?” She tilts her head, curious and birdlike. ”How come?”
Well, there's one person who hasn't heard the gossip. I shrug one shoulder. I decide to give her a half-truth. ”My grandmother offered to pay for my tuition.”
”Nice grandmother. I have a cousin who goes to Jefferson. Cecily Patel? She's a soph.o.m.ore.” She watches me expectantly for recognition.
I shake my head slightly, and smile regretfully. ”Sorry, I don't know her.” Why am I apologizing?
It's her turn to shrug. ”Eh, I'm not surprised. She's not exactly popular. Got the family nose.” She points proudly to the beaky protuberance on her face. It seems to wiggle a little. Did she do that on purpose? Fascinating!
She twists all the around in her seat so she can face me, swinging her bony legs around. ”So, you know Dean Youngblood? I saw you talking to him in the cafeteria.”
She says his name so reverentially, I kind of want to say it, too. To see if she'll fall to the ground in supplication. The wors.h.i.+pful way she says it cancels out her cool self-deprecation.
She waits breathlessly for me to reply, hair seemingly on the ready to strike. I glance toward the front of the room, checking the alertness level of Ms. Sepulveda. She appears to be asleep with her eyes wide open. Most of the people in cla.s.s are blatantly taking advantage of her inattentiveness, talking amongst themselves and completely ignoring the video.
I turn my attention back to Tanya. ”Not really,” I say. I probably look I'm about to say more, but I don't.
”But he was talking to you,” she says, enunciating each syllable.
”Yeah, that was...he was just letting me know I had something in my teeth,” I mumble, baring my teeth to ill.u.s.trate.
Tanya's upper lip lifts slightly, reflexively imitating my expression, and revealing a cute little ”fang.” ”Right,” she says sarcastically. ”Well, don't get your hopes up over him.”
”What do you mean?”
She leans in conspiratorially. ”Dean Youngblood doesn't date.”
She pauses, waiting for me to demand clarification. I don't. ”Okay,” I say. ”Thanks.”
Then I focus my gaze on the stupid video. I can see Tanya's disappointed frown out of the corner of my eye, but I don't care. I'm pretty sure she only talked to me so she could find out about Dean. I had thought her quirky and interesting-looking, but now she looks like an evil tree. I'm probably being a b.i.t.c.h right now. I get really crabby when I don't eat. I blame Dean.
My stomach makes horrible noises, like there's an epic battle being fought in there. Heads swivel to look in my direction, and a few of them start chuckling. I sink down in my seat, mortified.
The day's almost over, the day's almost over, the day's...
Rawr!
Never going to end.
I was looking forward to AP Lit-until I remember that Dean will be there. I hope we can just go back to ignoring each other. I also hope my stomach will behave itself.
Oh, wait! I put a granola bar and an energy drink in my backpack this morning, I'm almost positive. I don't know if it'll be enough to appease my rumbly tummy, but it's better than nothing-and I have to go by my locker to get to cla.s.s, anyway.
I'm sucking down my cherry flavored drink when I spot Ben in the hallway, leaning against the wall, and doing something on his phone. I'm so relieved to see a familiar face, I don't really pay attention to the b.i.t.c.h patrol as they head toward me.
They're giggling in that nasty superior way that girls have when they're about to decimate another girl. They make sure to look directly at me as we cross paths-in case I don't realize that I'm the object of their ridicule.
”s.l.u.t,” one of them says distinctly.
Another girl reaches out, snake quick, and suddenly I feel the back of my short skirt yanked all the way up, exposing my lacy boy shorts for everyone in the crowded halls to see.
Adrenaline shoots into my blood, and my face flames with fury and embarra.s.sment. I immediately turn and throw my cherry-colored drink in the offending girl's face. Not the container itself-just the entire contents.
There are several outraged gasps, as well as cackling laughter. Everyone stops to rubberneck, and few male voices start chanting, ”fight, fight!”
”You b.i.t.c.h!” Cherry-Flavored Girl screeches, wiping the sticky juice off her face with both hands. She stares incredulously down at her uniform, stained b.l.o.o.d.y by the dark liquid. Her friends simultaneously glare at me while trying to stifle their laughter.
”Sorry,” I say when she gets up in my face. ”This really strong wind just blew through here. It lifted up my skirt, and made me throw my drink in your face. That was so weird.”
CFG is not amused. Her face is red-or is the dye? ”Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?!” she seethes.
”She's right,” a familiar male voice speaks up.
Ben saunters up to us, a lazy smile on his handsome face. ”I mean, the evidence...” He looks Cherry-Flavored Girl up and down, and smirks. ”How could you possibly explain a.s.saulting Britney, here, with your Kool-Aid, Juliet?”
”It was a sports drink,” I feel the need to clarify. Kool-Aid. What am I, six?
CFG-Britney-ignores me, and preens under Ben's scrutiny, thrusting her chest out, and smoothing back wet sticky strands of her hair. ”You saw what she did,” she says, her tone becoming that of the injured. ”It was totes uncalled for.”
He nods sympathetically. ”And even if it was, who would believe her over the mayor's daughter, right?”
Mayor's daughter? Great.
Ben leans an elbow on my shoulder. I catch of whiff of cigarette smoke. ”Unless,” he says thoughtfully, ”someone got the whole thing on video.”
He holds up his iphone, and kind of wiggles it around for effect. ”Throwing a drink in someone's face is pretty bad, but I believe you can get into all kinds of s.h.i.+t for calling a girl a s.l.u.t, and lifting up her skirt like that. I speak from experience.”
Britney and her friends gape at him. He shrugs a shoulder, and we exchange bland looks. p.i.s.sed, she turns on her heel and flounces away, her friends-and little droplets of cherry sports drink-trailing after her. Kids snicker, then the traffic starts flowing again.
”So.” Ben tosses a casual arm around my shoulders as he turns to me. ”Making lots of friends on your first day?”
”Oh, big time.” I roll my eyes as I playfully push him away. ”Did you really get a video of my latest humiliation?”
”No, but I wish I had, because tiny baby Jesus, Juliet! You have the sweetest little a.s.s I've ever seen.”
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