suspicious, my eyes narrowed to slits, but I turn the move on anyway and we all sit there together in silence and watch.
There's something … cathartic about all that.
So much so that I forget the creepy man in the doorway.
At least for now.
On Monday, I slump into my seat in Mr. Murphy's English class, and suddenly find myself with the beautiful blond teacher standing next to my desk. I sit up suddenly, and straighten out my blazer.
“Good morning, Chuck,” he says, putting my essay down on the desk and giving me this soft, sweet little smile that gives me butterflies. “Great job on the essay, by the way.” He moves off down the aisle while I sit there with flushed cheeks and turn my paper over to see a 98 on the front. Huh. Not bad. Back home, I was used to skating by with a nice, easy C average. This may very well be my first ever A.
Glancing over my shoulder, I try to take in Mr. Murphy's small, tight little ass, and find Ross glaring at me like he owns the man. Dickhead. I flip him off and see his eyes go wide with anger before I turn back around and smother a secret smile, holding onto that joy for the rest of class.
Even though I've done my best to avoid eating in the cafeteria, a girl can only take so much before she gives in to the wonderful smells drifting out the double doors. For the first few weeks I was here, I was starving. Basically, I only ate breakfast if I walked my lazy ass up to Dad's house, and then we had dinner together most nights. He's been absurdly busy lately though, and I'm really getting tired of skipping out on lunch. So I've done it. I've given in.
I keep my head down when I push into the cafeteria, grabbing a tray and trying not to roll my eyes at the tables full of food. It's not at all like a normal cafeteria. No, these rich assholes look like they're getting a fancy wedding catered every day. There are shrimp dishes, steak dishes, desserts that I can't even pronounce.
By the time I sit down with a full tray, I'm pretty certain I have over a hundred dollars in food. How have I let myself miss out on this?! I think as I cut into the steak and groan. It's perfectly medium-rare on the inside, steakhouse level perfection.
Sitting alone in the back corner, I'm pretty confident that I'll be left alone. I've done a damn good job of making sure everyone at this school hates me. I pause with a bite of goat cheese mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth and feel a wave of sadness wash over me. Back home, I have heaps of friends waiting. Here … I have no one. At first, my new loner status didn't bother me, but I think all the isolation's starting to wear on my nerves.
I set my spoon down and close my eyes, pulling in a long, deep breath before I open them again. When I do, I jump, because there the twins are just suddenly there, sitting on either side of me.
“What do you want?” I ask as they both prop their heads on their hands, elbows balanced on the table.
“Spencer says you're gay,” they tell me in unison, and I shrug.
“So?” I pick up my glass of cranberry juice, with the giant round ball of ice, and the fresh cranberry and mint springs on the side (it seriously looks like a fancy cocktail) and take a sip.
“Is that why you've been such an ass?” Micah asks, staring at me with lazy eyes. His full mouth curves up into a smirk.
“Is it?” Tobias repeats, and when I glance back at him, I find the exact same facial expression on his face. They both have this burnt red-orange hair that sort of sticks up as it pleases in little tufted spikes. It looks accidental, but I know better. They each spend about an hour in the bathroom every morning. Not sure why, considering there aren't any girls here to impress. Well, not that they know of.
“I'm …” I don't know what else to say, so I just shrug again. “Yeah, I like guys. I told Spencer that. It doesn't mean I like him, so can you just leave me alone?” The twins exchange a look before turning their attention back to me.
“How's your head?” they ask, once