𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚘𝚗𝚎

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The strangest thing about school was the array of students— each different than the next

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The strangest thing about school was the array of students— each different than the next. The gyre of bodies moving from class to class felt like a hurricane, and at its eye was an unsuspecting girl coming to terms with herself and the people around her.

On that chilly autumn Monday, the only thing on Virginia Curtis' mind was her missing biology essay. Her hands messed with the stack of hardcover school texts stacked up in her locker. The red needle on the clock hung up on the wall kept moving, not allowing her a moment to search for that damn paper.

She jumped when she felt a strong arm slink around her waist and a warm breath tickle her ear. A pair of soft lips gently caressed her neck. "Hi," she said, grinning and meeting Sam Gardner's eyes.

The boy sighed, leaning against the closed locker next to her. Seeing his radiant girlfriend in that closing sliver of time alleviated the stress of his advanced classes. He looked her up and down, although she was more concerned with figuring out where her homework was.

"I know what you did."

Virginia looked up at Sam, her lips parted in surprise at his playful tone of voice. For a second, she was befuddled as to how he found out but quickly answered her own question— news traveled fast, and punching a Soc before challenging him to a drag race would get around.

"Look, I'm awful sorry I punched Greg Ericson— he-he was being ridiculous," she scoffed out of rightful frustration. "Actually, no, I ain't sorry for hittin' him. He deserved it."

A crease formed between Sam's eyebrows and he squinted in confusion. "Wait, you punched Greg?"

Virginia froze, her fingers lingering on the wrinkled spine of her English book. All sensible thoughts vanished in her mind and the only two words she had on repeat were: Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

"What-what were you talking about?" she asked in a small voice.

Sam dug through the pocket of his varsity jacket and carefully pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper dyed golden brown that he opened and showed her. Virginia read over her own delicate penmanship and her eyes landed on the daisy head she had taped on at the very bottom.

"Your note in my locker," Sam said quietly. The line between gratitude and confused vexation was blurring for him but he had to crack a smile for what he said next. "I knew it was you because of the flower and the coffee staining to look old."

Virginia's shoulders slumped and she shut her eyes in realization. "Oh, I forgot about that. I didn't get to see you this morning—"

Sam seemed more upset now by the way his arms were folded across his broad chest. He lowered his head slightly, making sure none of the other Soc boys who were there were around. "Wait, wait, forget about that, Virginia. That bruise on Greg's face— that was you?"

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