Cowgirls Don't Cry

CHAPTER FIVE - KATIE

Slamming my locker door shut a few days later, I began walking to English class, and Aimee fell into step beside me.

"Are you in Mrs Weston's English class as well?" she asked, checking her timetable as we walked.

"Uh huh," I pulled a face, then smiled. "It's my least favourite subject, but at least there's gym next session,"

"Oh lucky!" Aimee exclaimed, as we made our way down the hall to room 103. "I have Drama with Mrs Lowe, and my brothers say she's a nightmare!"

"Maybe she had a good vacation and she'll be nicer this year," I offered up, giggling. Aimee laughed.

"Let's hope so, for both of our sakes!" she quipped, as we drew even with the blue door to room 103.

Pushing it open, I followed Aimee inside, and we took our places at two neighbouring desks, although each table was spaced apart in a grid pattern, similar to most classes outside of homeroom. We were right on time, and the room was already mostly filled up with students I sort-of recognised, some more so than others. Jesse wasn't in my English class either, nor were Sierra, Ash or Alex, however, I noticed Luke slip in just as the bell rang, garnering a warning look from Mrs Weston. I ducked my head to hide a smile, wondering just how it was that that boy couldn't seem to be on time, and yet was never a beat late when bucking out a steer or bull.

"Good morning, year nines," Mrs Weston sang out, and we responded with as much enthusiasm as a midday English lesson could warrant. "Welcome to this year's English class, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I do, although," she paused, chuckling. "By the looks on some of your faces, I can tell this is going to be a challenge. I'm just going to call roll, and then we'll go over what's in store for the rest of the year,"

A low hum of chatter fell over the room as Mrs Weston read through the list of names, her many bracelets jangling as she moved her wrist to check off each name. The woman looked to be in her early fifties, with greying hair twisted into a bun and the look of a teacher who'd seen it all in her thirty years of teaching. She paused as she called out each name, looking up to pair the moniker with the face of the student.

"Katie Morgan?"

"Present!" I called out over the chatter, and Mrs Weston looked up with a smile, nodding before looking down at her list again.

"Luke Plowman?"

"Present!" Luke hollered over his shoulder as he turned in his seat at the table in front of mine, to face Aimee and I. "Can I borrow a pen? Or a pencil, or, anything really,"

"Where's your pencil case?" Aimee asked, laughing a little.

"In my locker," Luke replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, why don't you get it from your locker," Aimee mimicked his tone perfectly.

"Because I forgot my lock combination," he shrugged, rocking back on his chair.

"It's in your notebook!"

"Lost it,"

"Luke Plowman!" Mrs Weston called out sternly. "Stop rocking on your chair, you'll fall!"

"Like I haven't fallen off a bucking bull before," Luke muttered, letting his chair fall forward with a bang.

"Well that explains a lot," Mrs Weston quipped, and at that even Luke had to join in the laughter. "You're too much like your older brother for my liking, Mr Plowman."

A kindly smile softened her words and Luke smirked.

"I'll take that as a compliment, ma'am," he laughed, and Mrs Weston shook her head, chuckling.