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Chris raises his brows at Tyler’s hostile tone. “Damn. That bad, huh?”
The bell rings, signaling the five minutes students have to get to class. I’m surprised she isn’t hanging around him. I’m sure Tyler’s mother, being as caring as she is, would have asked him to show her around, or at least walk her to class.
“She is his problem. I refuse to play the doting brother. I don’t care. The faster this year is over, the faster I can leave and go to college. And I don’t have to see her face again or deal with my father feeling guilty.”
“How did your mom take it when she actually met her?”
He shakes his head. “She feels bad and is acting like my father didn’t keep the fact that he fathered a child with an illegal immigrant from her when they met. Or that he failed to mention it at all since she got pregnant with me, and then they got married. Knowing my mother, she will treat her like the daughter she never had, though.”
Tyler’s mom couldn’t have any more kids after she had him. She wanted more children. I think she wanted a daughter after Tyler was born, but apparently suffered from multiple miscarriages based on what Tyler has mentioned in the past. It sucks how some women who don’t deserve kids have them, and the ones who are excellent mothers have trouble conceiving. It’s like God’s cruel joke or something. Drug-addicted mothers who sell their kids for the next hit can conceive, but poor souls like Caroline can’t have more kids.
“So where is the evil spawn?” I ask sarcastically.
“I don’t know. Probably getting oriented in the office.”
A group of girls on the cheer squad pass us, checking us out. Tina, Jen, and Nicole are among the cheerleaders. Jen thinks she is my favorite because I fuck her whenever I feel like it, and she thinks she is the only one I have dipped my dick in. But she is just the more willing of the bunch. If she only knew last night that it was Nicole I was fucking at her house when she texted me goodnight, she’d flip out.
Nicole gives me a little smirk like she is special or some shit. I don’t think Jen got the memo that I have fucked every girl on the cheer squad and dance team, except for Abby, of course. Thing is, though, they all have one complaint: I don’t do serious boyfriend shit, whatever that means.
But it’s true…there isn’t a girl in this school who will tie me down, so it’s best that they all realize it and let me have my way with them.
Ky
I WALK INTOAlgebra 2 with Chris, Tyler, Jen, and Nicole trailing behind me. We take a seat just in time as our teacher, Mrs. Keller, walks in. Mrs. Keller is one of the few who teaches the same subject for more than one grade. Most of us have attended Westlake Prep and know her from previous years. She’s wearing the staff version of the West Lake uniform. Pencil skirt and blouse for the female staff, and polo shirts in a deep blue with slacks for the male staff. The male students wear white polos and dark blue slacks. The female students wear my favorite, red and blue plaid skirts with white shirts. The skirts are mid-thigh, and what I like to refer to as convenient for a quick fuck. The white shirts allow the male or female students, depending on what you’re into, to take note of whether a girl has a decent rack. Most of them don’t mind wearing different-colored bras under the white shirts to show off their assets when they take off blazers. It’s a win-win for the guys.
“Welcome to Algebra 2. Most of you already have had algebra with me.” I take a seat in the back with Chris and Tyler to my right, and Jen and Nicole trying to see who gets to sit on my left directly next to me. Apparently, Jen won the coveted spot today. “For those who don’t know me…” She stops as the door opens and a girl enters the class with a dark blue hooded sweatshirt with the hood over her head, hiding her face. I can tell it is a girl because of the uniform skirt she is wearing. I take note of the way her tan legs move as she walks inside the classroom, which causes me to lick my lower lip. She’s obviously new because I would have noticed those sexy tan legs.
Her head is bowed. Mrs. Keller watches along with everyone in the classroom as she makes her way inside and finds an empty seat in the back toward the far-right corner of the class. Tyler tenses and his hands grip the edge of the desk. It’s obvious from his reaction that it’s his half-sister. The one he wished never existed.
Mrs. Keller clears her throat and continues. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Mrs. Keller and I will be teaching Algebra 2 this year.” Her eyes dart to the back as she takes notice of the girl who walked in who has kept her hood over her head, obscuring her face from everyone. The new student doesn’t move, and just stares straight ahead. She also didn’t come in with a bag or a notebook, which is odd because I know Tyler’s mom and dad would have made sure she had the necessary supplies. “I would like for each of you to take out a sheet of paper and write a paragraph that tells me what you did this past summer.” Mrs. Keller walks toward her desk and leans against the edge, placing her hands in front. “It can be a trip or experience with your friends or family. What you liked about it. What you didn’t like. The story is yours to tell. This is I can get to know you before diving in.”
Everyone opens their backpacks, and the sound of paper being flipped in notebooks and others tearing out sheets of paper becomes the sounds that surrounds us. I reach in my pocket to grab my favorite pen and open my notebook to a clean sheet of paper to write down what I did all summer. Basically, train, hang out with my friends (fuck girls), go to parties, sleep, and repeat.
I hear Mrs. Keller begin to call out names as I’m writing, and I tune her out until she says Tyler’s name. Knowing my last name is not far behind, I pause. But the name I hear next makes me stop. My pen begins bleeding into the sheet of paper when she repeats the name.
“Mur…Rubiana Murray.”
My heart drops and my stomach clenches when I turn my head to my right in disbelief. No. Fucking. Way.
“Rubiana Murray. Could you please let me know you are here?”
The girl raises her hand, and I see the blue hoodie is old and faded with marks on the sleeves. My eyes look down to a pair of old Converse sneakers that have seen better days. My eyes trail to the dirty laces and socks that have been washed so many times, it’s a wonder they are still able to stay on her feet.
“Eww. Gross,” Jen says from my left. “Who the hell is that?”
She says it loud enough that Tyler shrinks in his seat.
“I’m here,” Rubiana says in a soft voice that goes straight to my dick.
Fuck. It can’t be. This must be a sick joke.
“Are you two related?” Mrs. Keller asks her after Rubi places her hand down. “Could you please take that off your head in my class? I would like to see who I’m talking to.”
Her fingers slide the hood of her sweater off, revealing the same dirty blond hair I remember as a kid, except she is wearing braids , the ends tucked into the back of the sweater so you can’t tell how long her hair is.
Her face is tan with the same small nose, and lips the shade of red. Her bottom lip is slightly bigger than her top, making a little pout that brings back memories of her. I could never forget those lips that are the perfect shade of red. Not too deep or bright, just right. The shade any girl wants when applying the color red but has to blot their lips with a napkin a few times to get it the right color but not Rubi. On her, it’s all natural.
“That’s better. Thank you, Rubiana. I asked are you and Tyler related?”
