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"Stupid people have made us legends in this school. Haven't you noticed how everyone acts when we walk by?" Recognizing the unamused look on my face, she adds, "It's not like I care. But again, it makes me laugh."
Just for a second, I look around and watch them follow us with their eyes, whispering. I notice the sidesteps to clear the way. It's not funny; it's sad.
I stop in front of an open door. "You're staying 'til the end of school, right?"
Tori sighs dramatically. "I guess. If I skip technology again, I'll get detention, and there's no way I'm staying in this building longer than I have to. I'll find you after."
I walk into French class and take my usual seat at the back of the room.
"Want to be my partner again today?"
I glance over at Lincoln, opening my notebook. "Sure."
Lincoln's one of the few people I can stand. He doesn't ask dumb questions and focuses on the classwork. He's smart, and he cares about his grades.
There are a select group of students who are actually trying to get out of this town. They're the ones who give this building some semblance of a high school, organizing their after-school clubs, participating in sports and driven to make the Honor Roll.
I don't participate in anything, despite Mr. Garner's persistent efforts. Hell, I barely participate in class. The only reason I even know we have sports teams is because I see the players wearing their jerseys on game days. And I know I can skip out early on the days we have pep rallies.
Lincoln's ambitious. I've seen him wear a couple of different game jerseys. I think one is basketball. Or it should be since he's so fricken tall. He always has his assignments done for class. He's even helped me finish mine when I've gotten stuck. And I'm pretty sure he's our class president or vice president or something like that. I have no idea what that means exactly, but there were posters up at the beginning of the school year, asking us to vote for people, and I remember seeing his name. I'm not sure if he won, but I hope he did. He's a nice guy.
Halfway through our conjugation assignment, Lincoln leans forward and whispers, "Do you think I have a chance with Tori?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. That question could easily mean so many things. I'm surprised. I would never have guessed she was his type, because he's definitely not hers.
"There's this party tonight in Oaklawn. I was hoping she'd go with me."
"We have plans," I tell him.
"Oh." He lowers his eyes, uncomfortable.
I sigh, recognizing that I sounded like a bitch. "Ask her. I don't actually know what we're doing. If she says yes, then we'll be there."
Lincoln's eyes light up. "Good. A friend of mine was talking about going too."
"Don't set me up."
"Right. No. I'm not," he fumbles. "I was just saying ... we can all ... hang out."
"Sure." I shrug. "Ask Tori first. I'll do whatever she wants."
I walk into Chemistry. I hate this class. Not only because trying to reconfigure molecules makes me want to scorch my brain with a Bunsen burner, but because it's the last class before freedom. It's the worst kind of torture, which means it feels like the longest class of the day. And, to make today even worse, the persistent douche takes a seat on the stool next to mine.
"Why are you sitting here?" I look around and find Paola two tables back, sitting next to a guy wearing a backward baseball cap.
She shrugs her shoulders in apologetic confusion.
"Thought we could be partners today," he says, leaning in and running a finger along my arm. "You know we're good together."
I scoff. "Excuse me?"
"C'mon, baby," he purrs, a pathetic attempt at sounding sexy. "Your hot little body up against mine--now that's chemistry."
I close my eyes and bite my lip, trying so hard not to laugh. But I can't stop it from bubbling up and bursting out of my mouth.
"What?" he asks, grinning without really knowing why.
"Go away," I tell him.
