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“I said it before and I’ll say it again. Why the heck are we talking about the popular kids?” I ask.
Lily shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s something intriguing about them.”
“Nope.”
“A little,” Ava admits. “I mean, it must be hard to go through a breakup with the whole school watching you like you’re under a microscope.”
“No one told them to be popular. You reap what you sow.”
“Willow has a point,” Liam says. “They can’t expect to get the good without the bad. Colton and Vanessa milked the attention when they got together last year. They loved being in the spotlight. Well, they’re in the spotlight when they break up, too.”
“Anyway,” I stress. “Back to us. What are your plans after school?”
We fill each other in on our plans, and when lunch is over, we separate to our next classes. Mine is history. I settle down at my usual desk in the front of the room, since the popular kids hijack the back of the room. Lots of them share this class with me, unfortunately.
Just as I take out my laptop, one of Colton’s friends, Owen, saunters over to my desk.
“No,” I tell him.
His dark brows fly up. “I didn’t even ask anything.”
“I know what you’re going to ask. The answer is no.”
He leans against my desk, folding his arms over his chest. “What am I going to ask?”
“If I can do your homework for you.”
If I count how many times the popular kids asked me to do their homework for them, I would need to use all of my friends’ fingers and toes, as well as mine.
He chuckles. “You’re not as smart as you think, Park. I wasn’t going to ask if you can do my homework for me. I want you to do Colt’s homework.”
“Youwantme to do his homework?”
“Sorry. It would mean a lot if you would do his homework for him. You know, out of the goodness of your heart.”
“And pray tell, why can’t the guy do his homework himself?”
He glances at the back of the room before leaning in close. “I don’t know if the news reached your circles yet, but—”
“I know. Colton and Vanessa broke up. Tragedy of the century. We should all wear black to school tomorrow.”
He ignores my remark and says, “Dude’s going through a rough patch. I thought I could ease his load by taking homework off his hands.”
“You mean, dumping it on me. You popular kids are something else.”
“Didn’t your mom do kids’ homework when she was in high school?”
“So?”
“So aren’t you the spitting image of her?”
I give him an incredulous look. “Spitting image? She’s a redhead and look at my hair.” I tug on my straight black locks.
“I meant personality? Smarts?”
“What do you want from me?” I ask, getting very impatient.
“Can you do the king of Edenbury High a favor and do his homework?”
