poverty, naked old people (shudder). Yup that last one did it.
Finally, unable to avoid the death stare I say, "Geez Gabby, can't I try to look nice every now and again?" She's so not buying it.
"No. No you can't," she replies flatly, giving the stink eye before sliding her knock off channel sunglasses back on and peeling out of the driveway. My composure is short lived, as my lips curl up uncontrollably. Traitors.
"So I take it you've decided to give Todd the old college try? You little slut you," she jokes, completely misinterpreting my anxious behaviour.
"No!" I blurt, "God Gabs, I can't date Todd. I mean he's a nice guy but dude, really? Definitely not my type. I prefer my guys of the asshole variety. Oh and they have to be at least a little ugly, completely broke and have no future whatsoever. I hate competition."
Looking genuinely surprised, her look turns calculating with the idea of why I might be showing a little too much cleavage. Gabs is just worried about me I know. She's cautious because I know she thinks Ash is too cool for school and not right for me. She says he will break my heart and stomp it into the ground if I'm not careful. She's probably right but I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines of my life and watching other people play the game.
"Then I want to know why you're acting like a grinning idiot today and for the love of Pete, please tell me it isn't for that arse-wipe Asher Grey."
"Oh Gabby hush it. I thought you'd be wowed by my awesome attempt at looking better. I wore not only blush, but mascara too!" Flicking my eyelashes at her, I catch a trickle of a smile.
"Poor Todd. Keeping him in mind Stella, you might want to do up a few buttons there. He looked really love sick puppyish over you at The Grind. I wouldn't be surprised if that lacy number sent him pitching a big one in his hipster jeans, and THAT is something I don't need to see before third period - thank you very much."
"Really? That bad?"
Self consciously I do up one more button.
First period for us is French. The classroom is way at the end of the hallway so my eyes are on high alert as we make our way there, although I didn't see his car in the parking lot. I try to mask my disappointment but then I spy Francine, Shit. I forgot all about her. It's one thing that I made fun of her on Friday, it is quite another for her to find out I'm jazzing over Asher. I should transfer schools now, save myself the torture and ridicule that is sure to follow. I hide behind some hulky football dude and duck into class before she can rip me a new one. I hate confrontation.
"Slick move Stella. Look, don't get all freaked, she's harmless, what's the worst she can do?" Gabby is settling into the seat beside me, turning off her cell. I have never seen her afraid of anyone, I envy that. It isn't like I'm a big nerd and everyone hates me; I actually have a lot of friends, well enough anyways. But if I ever annoyed or pissed anyone off with my sarcasm, I'd feel so guilty that I'd worry myself into a hot mess. Anxiety issues are my specialty. I bitch in private and Gabs is the only one privy to my witty charm. Dr. O'Leary would have some clinical terms for it, but for me, the root of my fear is people not liking me, so I try my best to be the bigger person and suck up an apology when needed.
I sigh thinking of all the ways she can humiliate me, "Oh I dunno, tell everyone I have the clap, dual sex organs, an extra nipple?"
"Well yeah there's THAT, but c'mon, do you think anyone would truly believe her?" she says sounding annoyed that I am wasting my time on this. So not helping Gabby.
"Well yes, yes they would," I say without hesitation.
"Who has the clap?" a deep voice joins us from behind my shoulder.
I jump out of my skin. It's funny how you can know someone so little and yet their voice is seared into your memory. Like Darth Vader or Christopher Walken; their voices are their signature, and now I
Finally, unable to avoid the death stare I say, "Geez Gabby, can't I try to look nice every now and again?" She's so not buying it.
"No. No you can't," she replies flatly, giving the stink eye before sliding her knock off channel sunglasses back on and peeling out of the driveway. My composure is short lived, as my lips curl up uncontrollably. Traitors.
"So I take it you've decided to give Todd the old college try? You little slut you," she jokes, completely misinterpreting my anxious behaviour.
"No!" I blurt, "God Gabs, I can't date Todd. I mean he's a nice guy but dude, really? Definitely not my type. I prefer my guys of the asshole variety. Oh and they have to be at least a little ugly, completely broke and have no future whatsoever. I hate competition."
Looking genuinely surprised, her look turns calculating with the idea of why I might be showing a little too much cleavage. Gabs is just worried about me I know. She's cautious because I know she thinks Ash is too cool for school and not right for me. She says he will break my heart and stomp it into the ground if I'm not careful. She's probably right but I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines of my life and watching other people play the game.
"Then I want to know why you're acting like a grinning idiot today and for the love of Pete, please tell me it isn't for that arse-wipe Asher Grey."
"Oh Gabby hush it. I thought you'd be wowed by my awesome attempt at looking better. I wore not only blush, but mascara too!" Flicking my eyelashes at her, I catch a trickle of a smile.
"Poor Todd. Keeping him in mind Stella, you might want to do up a few buttons there. He looked really love sick puppyish over you at The Grind. I wouldn't be surprised if that lacy number sent him pitching a big one in his hipster jeans, and THAT is something I don't need to see before third period - thank you very much."
"Really? That bad?"
Self consciously I do up one more button.
First period for us is French. The classroom is way at the end of the hallway so my eyes are on high alert as we make our way there, although I didn't see his car in the parking lot. I try to mask my disappointment but then I spy Francine, Shit. I forgot all about her. It's one thing that I made fun of her on Friday, it is quite another for her to find out I'm jazzing over Asher. I should transfer schools now, save myself the torture and ridicule that is sure to follow. I hide behind some hulky football dude and duck into class before she can rip me a new one. I hate confrontation.
"Slick move Stella. Look, don't get all freaked, she's harmless, what's the worst she can do?" Gabby is settling into the seat beside me, turning off her cell. I have never seen her afraid of anyone, I envy that. It isn't like I'm a big nerd and everyone hates me; I actually have a lot of friends, well enough anyways. But if I ever annoyed or pissed anyone off with my sarcasm, I'd feel so guilty that I'd worry myself into a hot mess. Anxiety issues are my specialty. I bitch in private and Gabs is the only one privy to my witty charm. Dr. O'Leary would have some clinical terms for it, but for me, the root of my fear is people not liking me, so I try my best to be the bigger person and suck up an apology when needed.
I sigh thinking of all the ways she can humiliate me, "Oh I dunno, tell everyone I have the clap, dual sex organs, an extra nipple?"
"Well yeah there's THAT, but c'mon, do you think anyone would truly believe her?" she says sounding annoyed that I am wasting my time on this. So not helping Gabby.
"Well yes, yes they would," I say without hesitation.
"Who has the clap?" a deep voice joins us from behind my shoulder.
I jump out of my skin. It's funny how you can know someone so little and yet their voice is seared into your memory. Like Darth Vader or Christopher Walken; their voices are their signature, and now I
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