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“I think you’re the freak friend, Sasha,” I said coolly, smirking. I sat back, ready to do battle.
“Miss Matthews, Miss Keeley, if you could please quiet down, it would be greatly appreciated,” Mrs. Maslow asked politely, not even looking up from her book.
Great psych teacher. What insight.
Sasha grinned triumphant.
Jasmine raised her hand. “Mrs. Maslow, I was wondering if you’d ask Sasha to stop copying my answers.”
Sasha gasped, gaping at her.
I laughed.
Mrs. Maslow lifted her head, more annoyed than interested.
“Miss Klinnleys,” she spoke, “is this true?”
Sasha paled, still gaping at Jasmine “No!” she denied heatedly. “Jasmine’s copying mine.”
“Then why is mine done and yours is only half done?” Jasmine asked innocently. She held her paper up. “See.”
“I’m not copying. I swear,” Sasha exclaimed emphatically. “I don’t know why she said that.”
Mrs. Maslow took both of their worksheets and compared them.
“Miss Klinnleys, you may go to the principal’s office.”
“He’s going to talk to you about appropriate boundaries,” I called after her as she hurried from the room.
“Miss Matthews,” Mrs. Maslow said sternly, “it would be beneficial for you if you were to learn your own appropriate boundaries.”
“I know. That’s what the principal said.” I grinned, seeing her own amusement flicker in her eyes. The psych teacher liked me.
When she returned to her desk, I stole a glance to Jasmine and saw her grinning to Mandy—in victory. Then it hit me—Jasmine had just set Sasha up. What a manipulative bitch. I couldn’t help but appreciate it. Jasmine was one of the social elite. Sasha was getting too close to Amber. So Jasmine had to send her back down.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Psych was psychology. The rest of class passed without event. I mean…what could really top Jasmine’s backstab? I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head.
Molly leaned over and whispered, “Are you going to see him again?”
Normally, you’d think she’d be talking about my crush or date or lover (whatever), but no—this was what I liked about Molly, or what I was learning to like about her—the girl’s just boy crazy.
Justin Travers.
Then Tray.
Larkins got a shot—who knows…I’ve got a hunch Larkins won’t be going anywhere.
And now Props. I could swear Molly had referred to Travers and Props as the love of her life—both of them. My guess is that it’ll be someone new in a few days.
But anyway…no, she wasn’t talking about my guy. It was her guy. Her latest interest.
I shrugged. “I gotta take care of something first.”
“Call me when you go see Props. I wanna come with.”
The girl was a social introvert. She wanted to go to a party just so her mom would have to worry about her—once. But I was learning that she was relentless when it came to boys.
