I grab what I need for class and shove the rest of my bag into my locker. Oh, man. I’m jealous of my bag. I just want to hide away for the rest of the day, too.
I get it together and meander my way to my math class. Ahead, Camila and Yvette giggle and chat behind cupped hands. My mood plummets further as I walk into the classroom behind them. Not only did I have a run-in with ragey Camila, but now she has her partner in crime to back her up. The only thing worse is when Tabitha joins and the trio is united.
Ugh. I can’t stand the Miss Perfects.
I sit at my desk in the back row, slumped down, and tune out their girlish giggles. Aunt Maddy has accused me in the past of being jealous of them. In what universe would I want to be friends with these girls? My friends are absolutely gaga about Yvette, calling her,“every man’s fantasy.”And now I live in a world where Kai is into Tabitha. In the past, Kai always said he liked me because I’m not a girly-girl. Is that, so he’s not attracted to me? Am I a complete turn off?
Oh my gosh. Will I never find a boyfriend because I’m not like these girls? Will no boy ever want to date a tomboy?
I search the classroom for couples. The playing field is lowered at school because we all dress in this stupid uniform, but there are some girls who strive to make this look cute. And there are guys who eat it up. My eyes land on Tim Field, one of the Mr. Handsome types all the girls fawn over. He makes the uniform have that effortless, dapper look. Something Kai could never pull off. So, why is Tabitha into him?
This is so confusing.
To make matters worse, my teacher, Mr. Pritchard, has started the lesson and I have no idea what he’s talking about. There’s a long equation on the board with lots of letters, minus signs, and parentheses. He walks to his desk, asking us to solve the equation. I can tell by the way other students lower their heads and begin working on the solution that Mr. Pritchard gave us a starting point.
Oh, geez. I got nothing.
I copy the equation into my notebook and then glimpse the kids on either side. Even though I see some of their work, it doesn’t help me understand what I’ve written or what I’m meant to do with it.
Oh, crap. What’s he doing?
I gulp.
Mr. Pritchard is making his way toward my desk.
“Miss West,” he says, landing in front of me.
He’s holding a wad of paper and pulling my classmates’ attention my way. From the corner of my eye, I spy Camila and Yvette looking over. As they whisper behind cupped hands, heat prickles my neck, and I know I’m turning a brighter shade.
Mr. Pritchard puts the papers on my desk. “This is a study guide and some extra problems for you to work on. I’m also available during office hours for extra help.”
Murmurings rustle around the classroom and shoulders nudge in my direction.
Mortifying.
He taps the papers. “I don’t want you falling behind any further.”
Oh my gosh, just go away! “Okay,” I mutter.
He walks away, and the murmurings have a hint of laughter to them. I slink further down in my seat. Seriously, won’t this day just end?
I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. I turn Yvette and Camila’s way. They’re both intently staring at me, shaking their heads.
“Does she need to go to a remedial school?” Camila says loudly enough for everyone to hear.
An eruption of laughter follows.
“She can’t help it,” Yvette replies. I shift in my seat, cringing. “It’s hereditary.”
It’s hard to take a breath, like she’s just whacked me in the chest with a bat.
Camila giggles, nodding. “We know who her mother was.”
As rumbling laughter swells around the room, Mr. Pritchard clears his throat and sits at his desk. “Okay, okay. Settle down and get back to work.”
Well done, sir. Let them get their jabs in first.
The classroom quiets except for the sounds of scribbles against paper. I try my best to get the girls out of my head. Even though that was pretty mild compared to other insults I’ve heard, it still takes a minute. I look down at the formula on my page. I then look at the papers Mr. Pritchard left. How are more of these problems going to help me figure this stuff out? It won’t suddenly make sense.
