"Stephanie. STEPHANIE!" I blink awake. The entire math class is looking at me. Oh god, what did I do?
"What? Huh?" I sputter. Then I look at my friend, Dylan, sitting next to me. She was shaking my shoulder gently and calling my name.
"Stephanie are you okay?" She asks nervously. "You were staring off into space and got really-really pale." I glance around the room. Almost all eyes were on me. Except for a group of boys who were texting in the corner. I could tell from the way their fingers flew across the phone screens, their phones oh-so hidden behind a stack of books on their desks. And the group of girls next to them snapchatting.
"I'm-I'm fine." I say. I'm a little surprised the class even noticed me. I sit in the back row, and do my work quietly. But I was sitting next to Dylan. Now that I think about it, her and Chase are some of my only friends. Okay wow this got depressing I'm sorry. But I mean, you've got your close friends. Then you've got your like "you're my friend but I'm not gonna share my deep-dark secrets with you" and the "aye you're in my math class" person. Finally either the "you're my best friend's friend" friend or the "you're my significant other's friend so I'll deal with you" friend. Not that I have a significant other. I'm sadly single af. Wonder why.
Dylan had long brown hair that had golden highlights and some strands the color of honey. She was fairly tall, a little shorter than Chase and wore glasses like mine. Big, nerdy, 3-D style. She also has braces, the brackets held together with pink bands, so every time she smiles,
"Are you sure you're okay?" My teacher, Mr. Platforum asked.
"Yes, sorry Mr. Platform." he glared at me. "PLATFORUM!" I correct myself. He nods. He hates it when he is called Platform. But behind his back Everyone calls him Platform because he stands on this wood block so he can reach the full height of the board. Yes, he is that short. I don't usually say it but sometimes if I'm mad about something in his class I'll say it Joseph.
"Good save." I hear a guy with short blond hair say in front of me. That's Joseph actually.
"Shut up, Joseph!" I say. He nods laughing quietly. I smile as well. I guess Joseph is my friend. He's "get along with because you're stuck in the same class, and have similar opinions about how we see the stuff we learn about" friend. For example we don't just talk, but we exchange a sarcastic comment about how fun algebra is, or how the homework only took the rest of our lives to do. Mr. Platforum carries on the lesson. We continue to do review on finding the amount for x in the expression yada-yada. Honestly why does math have letters? It's math! Math = numbers.
"Hey, so you sure you're fine?" Dylan asks quietly. She knit her eyebrows. I nod.
"Yeah, I'm good." I say. But I'm lying. How do I know these flash backs won't stop. How can I learn to control them? Can I control them? Or do they control me?
YOU ARE READING
Do I love her
Teen Fiction{WARNING; I WROTE THIS IN 7TH GRADE WHEN I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO USE GRAMMAR, AND IT NEEDS TO BE HARDCORE EDITED.} Sixteen year-old, Stephanie Allen, thinks she hates her step-sister. She lost her dad in a car accident and blames her sister for his d...
