video.
I turn my attention back to Tanya. “Not really,” I say. I probably look I’m about to say more, but I don’t.
“But he was talking to you,” she says, enunciating each syllable.
“Yeah, that was…he was just letting me know I had something in my teeth,” I mumble, baring my teeth to illustrate.
Tanya’s upper lip lifts slightly, reflexively imitating my expression, and revealing a cute little “fang.” “Right,” she says sarcastically. “Well, don’t get your hopes up over him.”
“What do you mean?”
She leans in conspiratorially. “Dean Youngblood doesn’t date .”
She pauses, waiting for me to demand clarification. I don’t. “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”
Then I focus my gaze on the stupid video. I can see Tanya’s disappointed frown out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t care. I’m pretty sure she only talked to me so she could find out about Dean. I had thought her quirky and interesting-looking, but now she looks like an evil tree. I’m probably being a bitch right now. I get really crabby when I don’t eat. I blame Dean.
My stomach makes horrible noises, like there’s an epic battle being fought in there. Heads swivel to look in my direction, and a few of them start chuckling. I sink down in my seat, mortified.
The day’s almost over, the day’s almost over, the day’s…
Rawr!
Never going to end.
I was looking forward to AP Lit—until I remember that Dean will be there. I hope we can just go back to ignoring each other. I also hope my stomach will behave itself.
Oh, wait! I put a granola bar and an energy drink in my backpack this morning, I’m almost positive. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to appease my rumbly tummy, but it’s better than nothing—and I have to go by my locker to get to class, anyway.
I’m sucking down my cherry flavored drink when I spot Ben in the hallway, leaning against the wall, and doing something on his phone. I’m so relieved to see a familiar face, I don’t really pay attention to the bitch patrol as they head toward me.
They’re giggling in that nasty superior way that girl s have when they’re about to decimate another girl. They make sure to look directly at me as we cross paths—in case I don’t realize that I’m the object of their ridicule.
“Slut,” one of them says distinctly.
Another girl reaches out, snake quick, and suddenly I feel the back of my short skirt yanked all the way up, exposing my lacy boy shorts for everyone in the crowded halls to see.
Adrenaline shoots into my blood, and my face flames with fury and embarrassment. I immediately turn and throw my cherry-colored drink in the offending girl’s f ace. Not the container itself—just the entire contents.
There are several outraged gasps, as well as cackling laughter. Everyone stops to rubberneck, and few male voices start chanting, “fight, fight!”
“You bitch!” Cherry-Flavored Girl screeches, wiping the sticky juice off her face with both hands. She stares incredulously down at her uniform, stained bloody by the dark liquid. Her friends simultaneously glare at me while trying to stifle their laughter.
“Sorry ,” I say when she gets up in my face. “This really strong wind just blew through here. It lifted up my skirt, and made me throw my drink in your face. That was so weird.”
CFG i s not amused. Her face is red—or is the dye? “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?!” she seethes.
“She’s right,” a familiar male voice speaks up.
Ben saunters up to us, a lazy smile on his handsome face. “I mean, the evidence…” He looks Cherry-Flavored Girl up and down, and smirks. “How could you possibly explain assaulting Britney, here, with your Kool-Aid, Juliet?”
“It was a sports drink,” I feel the need to clarify. Kool-Aid. What am I, six?
CFG—Britney—ignores me, and preens under Ben’s scrutiny,
I turn my attention back to Tanya. “Not really,” I say. I probably look I’m about to say more, but I don’t.
“But he was talking to you,” she says, enunciating each syllable.
“Yeah, that was…he was just letting me know I had something in my teeth,” I mumble, baring my teeth to illustrate.
Tanya’s upper lip lifts slightly, reflexively imitating my expression, and revealing a cute little “fang.” “Right,” she says sarcastically. “Well, don’t get your hopes up over him.”
“What do you mean?”
She leans in conspiratorially. “Dean Youngblood doesn’t date .”
She pauses, waiting for me to demand clarification. I don’t. “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”
Then I focus my gaze on the stupid video. I can see Tanya’s disappointed frown out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t care. I’m pretty sure she only talked to me so she could find out about Dean. I had thought her quirky and interesting-looking, but now she looks like an evil tree. I’m probably being a bitch right now. I get really crabby when I don’t eat. I blame Dean.
My stomach makes horrible noises, like there’s an epic battle being fought in there. Heads swivel to look in my direction, and a few of them start chuckling. I sink down in my seat, mortified.
The day’s almost over, the day’s almost over, the day’s…
Rawr!
Never going to end.
I was looking forward to AP Lit—until I remember that Dean will be there. I hope we can just go back to ignoring each other. I also hope my stomach will behave itself.
Oh, wait! I put a granola bar and an energy drink in my backpack this morning, I’m almost positive. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to appease my rumbly tummy, but it’s better than nothing—and I have to go by my locker to get to class, anyway.
I’m sucking down my cherry flavored drink when I spot Ben in the hallway, leaning against the wall, and doing something on his phone. I’m so relieved to see a familiar face, I don’t really pay attention to the bitch patrol as they head toward me.
They’re giggling in that nasty superior way that girl s have when they’re about to decimate another girl. They make sure to look directly at me as we cross paths—in case I don’t realize that I’m the object of their ridicule.
“Slut,” one of them says distinctly.
Another girl reaches out, snake quick, and suddenly I feel the back of my short skirt yanked all the way up, exposing my lacy boy shorts for everyone in the crowded halls to see.
Adrenaline shoots into my blood, and my face flames with fury and embarrassment. I immediately turn and throw my cherry-colored drink in the offending girl’s f ace. Not the container itself—just the entire contents.
There are several outraged gasps, as well as cackling laughter. Everyone stops to rubberneck, and few male voices start chanting, “fight, fight!”
“You bitch!” Cherry-Flavored Girl screeches, wiping the sticky juice off her face with both hands. She stares incredulously down at her uniform, stained bloody by the dark liquid. Her friends simultaneously glare at me while trying to stifle their laughter.
“Sorry ,” I say when she gets up in my face. “This really strong wind just blew through here. It lifted up my skirt, and made me throw my drink in your face. That was so weird.”
CFG i s not amused. Her face is red—or is the dye? “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?!” she seethes.
“She’s right,” a familiar male voice speaks up.
Ben saunters up to us, a lazy smile on his handsome face. “I mean, the evidence…” He looks Cherry-Flavored Girl up and down, and smirks. “How could you possibly explain assaulting Britney, here, with your Kool-Aid, Juliet?”
“It was a sports drink,” I feel the need to clarify. Kool-Aid. What am I, six?
CFG—Britney—ignores me, and preens under Ben’s scrutiny,
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