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Oh dear. Pretty sure Justin Timberfake was called Presley Myers. Just my luck.
Maybe my foster blocks will let me transfer to a different country.
“What are they like?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I keep myself to myself. I’ve only ever heard rumors.”
“What rumors?”
She opens and closes her mouth. “I’m not a gossip. It’s how I make it through high school.”
“No, that’s not—” I stop myself from arguing further and just give her a polite nod. “How much further?”
“Just down the next hall, room six.”
We push through the crowds of sluggish teens, and eventually find our room which is just like any other classroom in existence.
“Miss Alden,” Misha says to the teacher as everyone takes their seats. “I have the new girl.”
“Ah, yes.” She smiles, stretching the dark skin of her cheeks and looks at the tablet device in her hand. “Scandal Oaks. Is that right?”
I nod.
“You can sit to the left of Misha. That desk is free.”
Misha guides me to the middle of the room and I place my bag on the floor after sitting and grabbing a pen from the inner pocket. The pen is sparkly like the bag. Lane is a mood.
“Who’s that?” I hear somebody whisper as more students file into the room.
They all glance my way, one by one. I hover my head over the notebook Miss Alden hands me and write the date in the top corner.
“Settle down, please,” she sighs when the volume rises a few decibels.
The seat behind me and to my right remains empty until Presley fucking Myers charges into the room laughing at the top of his lungs. He throws something small at whoever is in the doorway and it bounces off their chest and into their hands.
“Lunch, yeah? Shit is gonna get real!” the guy in the doorway yells and disappears.
“Presley. Sit down.”
Presley, still smiling, turns towards his desk, sees me, and his smile fades as quickly as if I flicked a switch.
He stops still and I fight the urge to sink into my seat. I’m not some weak pussy-ass bitch. I’ve dealt with bigger men than him.
Dealt and lost, I remind myself.
I just don’t want to make a scene first class first day.
“Presley,” Miss Alden warns and he finally moves to his seat, kicking my bag from under my desk as he goes, eyes still on mine. She clears her throat and continues with a nicer tone now, “As you’re all aware, we have a new student starting today. Her name is Scandal Oaks and I know you’ll all be kind to her and help her out if she needs it.”
I roll my eyes. She just had to call me out, didn’t she? I fucking hate this place.
“Scandal, do you want to tell us anything about yourself?”
I shake my head.
“Isn’t that the chick that got arrested?” somebody whispers.
“For solicitation,” Presley answers. “Charges by the hour that one.”
“Presley,” Miss Alden yells, glaring at him.
“Just being honest,” he lies, his tone smarmy. The class laughs and I feel their judgmental eyes on me.
“He paid for five,” I retort, and shoot him a smirk over my shoulder. “He only managed three.”
There’s a collective, “OOOOH!” followed by somebody yelling, “ROASTED!”
Presley’s eyes darken. He’s definitely not happy with me now. If you really want to get back at a guy like Presley, insult his ability to be a man and watch him unravel.
“You fucking wait,” he mouths at me and slams his books on the table.
Well… shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have bitten back. This just escalated.
“That is exactly the kind of drama I would like to avoid,” Misha mutters and I just know I lost my only ally.
Misha shakes her head at me at the end of the lesson. I’m not at all surprised when she ditches me.
“What class do you have next?” a guy from the row ahead asks me kindly when Misha leaves without me. He stands, moves to my table, and takes my schedule. “You’re with me, come on.”
“I don’t actually solicit sex,” I tell him, just in case that’s why he’s being nice.
“No, I know. I wanted to approach you anyway.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Kenan Potter… no HP jokes please, I’ve heard them all… I run the school paper and I saw a video of you online climbing to the top of a two-story building, using nothing but brick walls and your body.”
I blink and mutter, “There’s a video of that?”
“It’s twenty-nineteen, baby. There’s a video of everything.”
“Ugh, don’t call me baby,” I mutter and hitch my bag up my shoulder.
He cringes, showing slightly crooked teeth and happy-ish hazel eyes beneath thick short lashes. “Right… sorry. I didn’t mean—”
A shoulder hits me in the back sending me forward into Kenan who catches me by the biceps.
I spin, ready to lash out but quickly bite my tongue. There’s no use escalating this any further than it has.
