Change of Plans - C.L. Blackwell Page 0,6
when he doesn’t get it, he will usually stop. Emphasis on usually.
I tried my best to ignore him, but his pencil was distracting me from my notes. I was already annoyed from my splitting headache thanks to the video turned up too loud and the obnoxious chatter of my classmates. When he was bored from not getting a response out of me and reached forward and tugged my hair. Hard. Dang, he was strong. Good thing I’m so hard headed or that might of actually hurt. Gathering all my hair together, I plopped it in a sloppy bun on the top of my head and out of his reach. If I turned around to tell him to stop he would only be more satisfied. Sometimes he acted like a little kid.
I guess exposing my neck gave Caleb a personal invitation because the next thing I know his fingers were trailing up and down the space under my hairline. Ignoring how good it felt, I used my hand to swat his away. He just leaned forward; close enough I could feel his breath tickling the back of my neck. I chided myself when I realized that I was leaning back into his touch without even meaning to.
“So, how about that date?”
“Never going to happen,” I snapped quietly back, still trying to pay attention to the video.
“Oh, come on. You, me, dinner and a movie in a dark theater, what could go wrong?”
“More than you will ever know. Now, why don’t you go to one of your many groupies, like Sierra, and ask them out? I’m sure they will be jumping all over each other for a chance to be in a dark theater with you.” I was getting really tired of his little games. This was the third time in the past two weeks that he’s “asked me out” and the answer always stayed the same. No. He was about to open his mouth to say something else when Coach Watkins spoke up, spitting on a couple students in the process.
“Is there a problem back there, Miss Underwood?”
Oh, this was going to be fun, “No, Coach Watkins. Caleb here was just telling me how he would love to run a couple extra laps at football practice this afternoon.”
“Well, he can consider his wish granted. Now, Mr. Winters if you would be so kind as to stop talking in my class and leave the poor girl alone, she’s obviously not interested.” That earned a couple snickers from other students in the class. Although Coach might spit, he could diss any student. With a big smirk on my face, I leaned further back into my seat, daring Caleb to bother me again. I glanced toward Matt who was frowning but when I sent a smile his way, he winked and turned around in his seat but I could still feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
The rest of first period was uneventful. When the bell rang, I strolled out with Matt at my side. I could feel Caleb’s eyes on my back all the way to the door. Passing Sierra, who was waiting pathetically at the door for Caleb, I waved goodbye to Matt and headed for second period.
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Gym class was a joke; there wasn't even an official teacher for it. Every day we did the same thing: run a lap around the track, come in, change out of our gym clothes, and then hang out. Easy didn't even begin to explain it. But, it seemed my day just got worse and worse.
“Coach” Betty was overweight and owned at least four cats, she always had bloodshot eyes from crying and her hair in a messy bun. News around school was that her and Mr. Mitchell, the freshman science teacher, were dating, but the look on her face said not anymore.
“Everyone outside, run four laps, I’ll be timing you. If you don't run a mile in under ten minutes, then you can run it again, and then you can come back in,” her voice was raspy and raw. I would have to be soulless to not feel bad for her, but no matter how bad I felt for her, I was not looking forward to running a mile. Running was not my thing.
Along with the rest of the students, I lugged my feet out to the track that needed to be replaced ten years ago. It was an awful red, burnt color with holes and cracks everywhere. I have no