this morning’s events, I told her I’d meditate on the question and get back to her.
She gave me detention for tomorrow, too.
To this, I snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice? If there actually was a tomorrow?”
Then she tacked on detention for Wednesday.
Wow, I really am John Bender from The Breakfast Club.
Ellison Sparks: Wanted Criminal. I kind of like the sound of that.
I don’t meet Tristan at his locker before third period because there’s really no point. I could argue and plead and change my look and follow all the commandments in the world and it wouldn’t matter. He’s either going to break up with me or he’s not and tomorrow it won’t make one bit of difference.
I ignore him all through Spanish class. When that stupid, suicidal bird flies into the window and everyone makes a big stink about it, I yell, “Oh shut up, he’ll be alive again in the morning.”
Throughout the whole period, I sense Tristan trying to get my attention. But I’m too busy sleeping on my desk to be bothered with relationship drama.
Can’t he see I’m tired?
I’ve had a very long week.
When the bell rings, I grab my stuff and disappear into the hallway. He catches up with me a few seconds later and grabs my arm, pulling me into an alcove between lockers.
“What’s up with you?” he asks. “Are you still mad about last night?”
“Nope. Not mad.”
I try to walk away, but he blocks me. “Then what’s gotten into you? And what did you do to your hair?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He sighs, shifting his weight. “You are mad. Look, I want to talk about what happened. About the fight.”
“Tristan. I’m not mad. I just don’t give a crap. Okay?”
I push past him and walk away. This time, he’s too stunned to try to stop me.
11:20 a.m.
In third period, I fail my American history quiz, but that’s probably because instead of circling one of the multiple choice answers, I write in my own.
Britain met its manpower needs during the Revolution by:
A) Raising the recruiting bonus
B) Lowering physical requirements
C) Hiring foreign troops
D) All of the above
E) Selling Erotic Harry Potter Fan Fiction Online
12:40 p.m.
During lunch, I make a bunch of new friends outside in the parking lot. They sit in their cars and smoke cigarettes and talk about TV shows I’ve never even heard of, but definitely need to record on my DVR. Who knew this was where the cool kids were hanging out the whole time?
When we sneak back into the cafeteria before lunch is over, I notice the cheerleader bake sale in the corner and the long line of people waiting to hand over their money.
Daphne Gray is at the microphone, announcing that this is the last chance to buy baked goods to help support the team.
I excuse myself from my new acquaintances, strut over, and grab the microphone from her hand.
“Um, excuse me,” she protests. “What are you doing?”
I ignore her. “I would like to make a public safety announcement. It really pains me to be the one to tell you this, but unfortunately Daphne Gray had explosive diarrhea yesterday when she was making some of these yummy treats, and she did not wash her hands before handling the ingredients. I just thought you should all know. The banana bread is delicious though. Bon appétit!”
I step off the stage and do nothing to hide my smirk as I watch the long line of people scatter. Daphne calls my name, but I don’t respond. I have nothing to say to her so I keeping walking.
I’m almost to the hallway when I hear Daphne’s voice come back over the loudspeaker. “You little skank!”
I stop, still facing the door.
“Everyone knows Tristan Wheeler only started dating you because of how desperate you were to get into his bed.”
The cafeteria suddenly gets very quiet. Or maybe that’s just the ringing in my ears drowning everyone out.
I slowly turn around and stalk purposefully back to the table. I just remembered I do have something to say to Daphne Gray.
She sees me coming and crosses her arms over her chest, like she’s challenging me to come closer. I climb the three steps up the tiny stage, cock my fist back, and shove it into her face.
We Gotta Get Out of This Place
1:08 p.m.
I’ve never been in a fight before. It’s kind of anticlimactic. I was expecting epic throwdowns and slow-motion spin kicks, but it’s actually just a lot of hair pulling and screaming and hands in faces.
“That night was supposed