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"Oh, you are not going to that lab again. "
Lend laughed and I closed my eyes, picturing how he would look in front of me. "Trust me, there's only one paranormal I'd like to be notoriously lusty for me. "
I sighed. "Okay, but I don't think I can find a hag on such short notice. "
He laughed again, almost covering the sound of the bell. I looked around, panicked. A stray paper drifted across the now forsaken hallways.
"Crap, I'm gonna be late! I'll talk to you later, okay?" Flipping my phone shut, I ran for the locker room. At least it was gym and there was a little wiggle room.
Or so I thought. Miss Lynn, that hideous creature, was waiting outside the door, marking off girls as they came in. She looked up and smiled, pleased to have caught me in an obvious infraction. "That's half your participation points for the day, Green. Another tardy and I believe you'll qualify for in-school suspension. "
Where was Tasey when I needed her? It took all my willpower to suppress an eye roll as I skulked into the locker room. The faint aroma of sweat and mildew greeted me, and I passed girls in various states of undress to get to my locker. I wasn't nearly as fond of this one.
Carlee pulled on her tennis shoes, already good to go. Honestly, how her boobs could be so perky in a sports bra I'd never understand. Or stop envying.
She shook her head. "You should be more careful. Miss Lynn really doesn't like you. "
I sighed, pulling out my gym clothes. What school chooses yellow and brown for their colors? Gross. Just, gross. "The feeling's mutual. "
"So how was your weekend?"
"Sucktastic. Lend had to go back to school. "
"Lame. I'm sorry. "
"How was yours?"
Her face lit up. "Great! So John and I got back together, right? And at first I was all like, awesome! But then Friday night he was supposed to call, and he totally didn't, so then I was like-" My eyes glazed over as I tried to pay attention. I liked Carlee, and appreciated having a friend that wasn't undead, but sometimes the effort it took to keep up girl relationships felt like too much.
"-and then he was like, 'If you don't want to'-"
A scream erupted from another aisle. I didn't know whether to be grateful for the interruption or scared of what could be happening. Carlee and I both darted around the corner and found girls covering themselves and shrieking. "What is it?" I shouted, vowing to never again leave Tasey at home.
One of the girls pointed to the next row and I crept toward it, every muscle tense and my back to the wall. The aisle opened in front of me and I shouted, ready to spring at-
Jack.
Stupid, stupid Jack, standing up on one of the wooden benches that lined the middle of the aisle, hands on hips as he surveyed the empty row like some sort of bizarre conqueror.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, horrified.
He looked down at me. "Oh, there you are. I'm supposed to give you something. "
"And you couldn't have given it to me somewhere else?" I looked around, exasperated and anxious. Girls were starting to trickle over, past their first shock and now curious.
"What's wrong with here? Here seems plenty nice to me. " He patted his pockets, finally muttering, "Aha!" before pulling out a familiar white phone-like device. An IPCA communicator. I'd forgotten how boring they were compared to my supercute cell. He smiled and let it slip through his fingers. I gasped and lunged forward, but he bounced it up off his foot and snatched it out of the air. Grinning, he handed it to me with a flourish.
"Raquel wants you to call so she'll know a good time to talk again, since she doesn't want to disrupt your life. "
"And what the bleep do you think you're doing right now?"
A throat cleared next to me and I noticed Carlee standing there. Her shoulders were thrown back and she was giving Jack a weird look. No, not a weird look . . . a hey, baby, fancy meeting you here look. "Who's your friend?" she asked, a giggle following her question.
"Not my friend! So not my friend. "
"How did you even get in?" Vicious Redhead Soccer Girl asked. She was eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and interest. "Do you go here?"
What was wrong with these girls? A psychotic boy appears in the middle of the locker room and they're ready to flirt? Hadn't they watched any high school comedies? We should have been whipping him with wet towels at this point, ferocious in our fury to protect the sanctity of the girls' locker room. Instead, they were concentrating on strategic posture shifts for maximum cleavagization.
