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8
“It’s a classic love story for a reason, Miss Sinclair. It’s stood the test of time because it’s still as relatable now as it was back then,” Miss Smith snaps at me.
Wow, I’m making friends everywhere I go.
“Why ask me if you don’t like my opinion?” I mutter, tapping my pen on my paper, ignoring the snicker from behind me.
“What was that? Perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts with the class. I’m sure we’re all dying to know why you think Romeo and Juliet is overrated.”
“I never said it was overrated. You asked me what I thought about the dynamic between Romeo and Juliet, and I said it was toxic. Whether you agree with me doesn’t matter because you didn’t ask me what your opinion was. You asked for mine.”
“I’d like you to say after class, Miss Sinclair. Perhaps I need to sit down and explain what is expected from you. I appreciate that you’re new, but if this class is too advanced for you, there are other classes available.” My classmates snicker at my dressing down.
Is she for real?
“Wow, you must really love Romeo and Juliet or really hate new girls. I’m guessing it’s a little of both.”
“I do not expect you to understand anything about love at your age. But let me assure you, Miss Sinclair, Romeo and Juliet is one of history’s greatest love stories.”
My temper flares as I grip my pen hard enough for it to crack.
“Romeo and Juliet isn’t a story about love. Obsession and lust, perhaps. Love within family dynamics, sure. But all-consuming stand-the-test-of-time love? Not a chance. The biggest theme is conflict and the effect it has on emotionally challenged children making stupid reckless choices, lying and keeping secrets from their families before they eventually commit suicide. If I’m too young to understand love, then by the same ruling, so were they.”
The room is silent as everyone waits for Miss Smith’s reaction. I personally half expect her head to explode. When she smiles, I realize I’m not that lucky.
“Interesting. How about you write your thoughts”—she says thoughts in the same way one might say sodomy—“in a five-thousand-word essay and I’ll review it.” Her grin is one of superiority, but my hands are tied. There is only so hard I can push because getting kicked out of school will fuck everything up.
“No problem. I’ll be happy to.” I smile back.
Eat shit, Miss Smith.
Her grin slips as she turns back to the class and continues.
A tug on my hair has me turning to see Sarah behind me laughing softly. “That was epic. Sorry about the essay, but it was still cool to see her put in her place for a change.”
“What’s her deal anyway? She seems uptight one minute but then the next…”
I drift off as I see her leaning over the table in front of one of the football players, her low-cut blouse only just stopping her boobs from falling out and giving the poor guy a concussion, not that he looks like he’d complain.
“Is she trying to breastfeed him?”
Sarah bursts out laughing, drawing Miss Smith’s attention our way once more.
“Miss Sinclair, if you insist on disrupting my class, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“But it wasn’t—”
“If you would like to join her, Miss Anderson, you are very welcome.”
Fuck it. I stand up, shove my stuff into my bag and turn to look at Sarah, cocking my brow in a daring manner. I really shouldn’t be leading the students astray, but I have a feeling if I leave Sarah behind, she’ll take the brunt of Miss Smith’s pissy mood.
Sarah looks at me for a second before her eyes move around the room.
“Ah, shit.” She sighs, making me grin as she climbs to her feet and grabs her binder off the table.
“I still want to see you after class, so you can both wait in the corridor,” Miss Smith throws out snootily as we get to the door.
She wants us to wait in the corridor for an hour and a half?
“Sure, Miss S. We’ll be right outside,” I tell her, pulling the door closed behind us.
“She’s such a bitch,” Sarah grumbles, taking a seat outside the door.
I grab her arm and haul her up.
“No way are we sitting here all day. Come on, let’s go get a drink. My treat.” I drag her away before she can protest, tugging her in the direction of my car.
“I can’t get expelled, Everly.”
“You won’t. Trust me?”
She looks at me for a moment before relenting. “You’re a pain in my ass. Fine. I hope you realize that you’re the accumulation of all my father’s fears.”
“What?” I laugh, beeping the locks on my car.
“He basically worries I’ll be led astray by peer pressure.”
“I’ve seen you with Casey. I think if anyone is going to lead us astray, it’s you,” I tease.
“Oh, I have something of yours.” She fumbles around in her bag as she climbs into the passenger seat and pulls out my ID card.
“Scott gave it to me, knowing we both had English lit this morning.”
“And how did he know that?” I ask, waving as the guard lets us pass through the gates.
“His aunt works in the office. He got her to give him a peek at your schedule since we weren’t sure what house you were in.”
“Ah, that’s sweet and not nearly as stalkerish as I had imagined.”
She laughs and relaxes back in her seat.
“So, where’s the nearest coffee shop?”
“Um, Cool Beans is about a mile from here. Turn left at the end of this road, follow it all the way to the end and turn right. You can’t miss it.”
“Wanna bet? I’m directionally challenged.”
