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She’s hesitant at first, probably wondering if this is also part of an act. I don’t blame her. You’re as good as the company you keep around. Mine happens to be vile. So, no, I don’t blame her one bit for being skeptical. Bethany grabs her plate, still a little shocked as she stares at me, spaghetti sauce still on her cheek. Bethany’s eyes double as she looks to me, and I give her a kind smile, nudging her to the empty table she usually sits at. We sit down, eyes pointed at us as I take my salad out of my bag. Bethany clears her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, eyes still downcast.
I smile. “She’s a shitty person. It’s no problem.”
Bethany twirls her spaghetti with her fork. “I always thought you guys were really close.”
I laugh, knowing that’s what everyone thinks, but the sad truth is, I don’t have any real friends, only acquaintances. “Not really. You have to be careful with assumptions. Ninety percent of the time, they’re wrong.”
Bethany grimaces as I close the lid on my salad. The Tupperware was new, I kept misplacing the lids to all mine. Honestly, I think the dishwasher eats them. “Do you mind if I sit with you again tomorrow?” I ask.
Bethany’s pretty eyes widen as she nods slowly, a shock-ridden frown painted upon her lips. I wave, turning to walk away when Jennifer’s glaring stare hits me. I flip her off, smile still firmly on my face. If this were a cartoon, smoke would be billowing out of her ears, face all red with little devil horns poking out of her shiny head of hair.
The thing is, yes, I grew up with these rich bratty people. Yes, I was a bit of a brat myself, but there is a huge difference in being a brat and being downright cruel. And cruel is never something I could bring myself to be.
* * *
It’sthirty minutes until the last class is over. Checking my phone, I sigh. Grabbing my backpack and my volleyball bag I grabbed before coming to Mr. Boyd’s class, I rise from the TA table. I didn’t get all the work done, but I’m sure I can finish it tomorrow.
Slowly, I walk to him. My heels seem so loud as my heart beats harder with each step that takes me closer to him. “May I help you, Miss Madison?” His voice is like an aphrodisiac, my desire grows tenfold every time it skates over my skin.
“Yeah, I have to leave. I have an away volleyball game, and the buses are getting ready to leave.”
He nods, never looking up from the papers he’s grading. As if I’m nothing. And I’m not, not to him anyway, but I… want to be. I want him to look up at me with his woodsmoke eyes, let me see the same desire I’m feeling seep through.
But he doesn’t, leaving me disappointed as I leave his room.
* * *
I always sitin the middle of the bus. Never the front and never the back. The middle feels safer for some reason. If someone attacks the bus, they’re coming from the front entrance or the back emergency exit. I don’t even know why such things cross my mind. I’m a teenager and I shouldn’t have to think about an exit plan in case of an attack, but sadly, the world we live in has me always prepared. I know every exit on our bus: two that are on the top, one at the front and back. And a few windows.
I shift in my comfy seat, the plush material molding to my body. We don’t have those regular yellow buses. We have a charter bus. Every sports team does. It’s the perks of going to a private school. Macy sits next to me, a grimace on her face as she looks at me. Her black hair that is usually in kinky curls that stop just below her shoulders is braided into a bun for the game. It’s her game hair. Her mocha skin beautifully contrasts with our clover green volleyball uniforms.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.” I smile. It’s been a little awkward between us since lunch. Macy is the nicest out of the three, but sometimes, like me, she doesn’t stand up for what’s right when she should.
“I’m sorry about today. I should have stopped her, said something, but…” she trails off, her beautiful caramel eyes falling to her feet.
“It’s fine.” It isn’t, but I don’t have to tell her that. She already knows it.
“No, it’s not. Jennifer is vile and I’m not sure why I put up with her shit all the time. I’m sick of it.”
A little shocked by her statement, I look over to her. “That makes two of us.”
“So, save me a seat tomorrow?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Hell yes. I’m so over that bitch ruling over everyone. Now,” she looks up to me, a smile breaking across her full lips, “are we good? Because you know we play like shit when we fight. And today is important. We can’t fight on the day we play the Lions.”
The Lions, as in our biggest rivals, as in my brother’s—who has no idea I exist—school.
I purse my lips. “I don’t know…” I trail off.
Macy bumps my shoulder. “Shut up.”
We both laugh as we get settled in our seats, the bus pulling out of the parking lot.
* * *
