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“Whatever happens, I got your back.” He drops an arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him, giving me a tight little squeeze. “Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll meet up with you at lunch.”
“Okay, sounds good.” I give him a little wave before turning to head inside the classroom.
I take the seat closest to the door at the front of the room and place my book bag on the floor next to my chair. Pulling out my planner and a notebook, I flip it open and scribble today’s date at the top—figuring if I don’t have my book I should at least take notes.
My head is down as I write, when something bumps into my chair hard enough to cause the legs to skid a couple of inches before everything on my desk crashes to the floor. Stunned and a little caught off guard, I look up to see Zayden straightening back up like he had tripped or something.
“My bad,” he says sarcastically, trying to imply that it was an accident when we all know it was most definitely on purpose.
My gut instinc
t is to lash out and tell him where he can stick his ‘my bad’, but then I remember my earlier thought. Kill him with kindness.
“Oh no problem.” I smile up at him. “I’ve been known to be rather clumsy myself.” I lean down and pick up my stuff off the floor. By the time I turn back, Zayden has claimed his usual seat at the back of the class.
Knocking my stuff on the floor—really? How original. I roll my eyes as I settle back into my chair.
If he thinks that’s all it’s going to take to send me running and crying, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t scare that easy.
LUNCH HAS BECOME my favorite part of the day. Obviously because it’s the only period I share with Pierce. Five days and I’ve managed to land a whopping one friend. Then again, he’s an awesome guy, so I guess in that sense I’m pretty lucky. I’d rather have one good friend than dozens of sorta friends.
He isn’t at our table yet when I arrive, so I slide into my usual seat and tear open the bag of Doritos I got for lunch. I’ve just shoved one of the cheesy chips into my mouth, when a group of three girls approach my table.
I recognize one from Math. Tiffany, I think. She’s one of those perfectly polished girls. You know the kind—perfect makeup, highlighted blonde hair, sparkly manicured fingers and toes. Couple that with her obvious love of fashion and all things trendy and you get the stereotypical mean girl. Which makes her two friends, who are both equally as pretty and yet somehow not, her minions.
“Hey, Rylee.” She slides down into the chair across from me, her friends taking the seats on either side of her.
“Hi.” I clear my throat, having swallowed my chip too early, causing it to lodge on its way down.
“So, the girls and I were wondering if maybe you wanted to go shopping after school.” She wipes a crumb off the table in front of her, her nose crinkling in disgust.
“We know you’re new and all, so we thought maybe we could show you around town. Show you all the best places to shop and stuff. It will totally be fun,” the brunette on her right chimes in.
“So much fun,” the other brunette on her left tacks on.
I feel like I’m being punked. It’s like I stepped onto the set of another Mean Girls movie. I’m waiting for one of them to tell me that I have to wear pink on Wednesday’s.
“I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on. You know, first week and all.” I make the first excuse I can think of. Do I want to make more friends? Of course I do. Do I want friends like these girls? Hell no. I’ve known girls like these my whole life. Every school has them.
“Oh, we totally get it.” Tiffany smiles. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure. Absolutely,” I readily agree.
“Awesome.”
I watch her gaze lock onto something behind me, but before I can turn and look, I feel something cold and thick hit the top of my head and slowly trickle through my hair.
What the…?
I run a hand over the top of my head, feeling the thick mess of what I now realize is a milkshake. The three mean girls point and laugh and it doesn’t take long for several more sets of eyes to come my way—curious to know what’s going on.
I feel heat flood my cheeks as I turn, locking eyes with another girl I recognize from math class—another friend of Tiffany’s.
“Oops.” She laughs, looking from me to the empty cup in her hand and then back to me.
“What the fuck, Amber?” I hear Pierce before I see him. He slides up next to me and quickly pulls me to my feet. “Come on.” He grabs my hand and tugs me through the cafeteria, people laughing and pointing as we pass them.
My heart is hammering a million miles a minute, and I’m a thousand percent sure that my face is beat red. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and spreading across my cheeks.
