High School Survival Theory

Chapter 03

Our newspaper publishes every Monday, almost every student buys them to read the latest gossip of the school; as much as I hate gossiping, I read them too, even though it's only because I'm the editor.

But there's something not normal about today.

I've never seen this many students reading them in the hallway on a Monday morning with such enthusiasm.

On our journey towards the office, many of the students stopped me and congratulated me on such an awesome article. I return their smiles, even though it seems unusual for them to be this excited about an article on Uganda.

"What exactly have you added there?" Derek whispers in my ears as a boy passes by us after congratulating me. I shrug.

Mrs. Glenda, the office lady, smiles at me when she sees us.

"Here are your schedules," she gives us our schedule. As usual, Derek and I only have Chemistry together.

It has always been this way. Derek wants to study chemical engineering and I want to study journalism. This makes our paths different already. But Derek still wants us to give this relationship a try.

"I wonder what you've added on that paper today," Mrs. Glenda says. "Almost everyone is buying them and talking about you. You've become famous."

I blush. "You're exaggerating."

She shakes her head. "I can show you the demo, I have the list of students who bought them. At this rate, we'll be out of stock before lunch."

"It doesn't matter as long as it's a good thing for your committee," Derek says, joining us.

"I've to go, see you at Chemistry." He kisses the corner of my mouth.

"Okay, see ya." I smile and make my way to my locker cheerfully.

I open my locker and shove the things I won't need before lunch inside. I hear someone calling my name. But when I look to my side I find no one.

It might be just an imagination.

I shrug and toss the last book inside. Just then someone pushes me against my locker from behind.

"Found you at last!" Grace squeals and hugs me tightly. I try to get rid of her but she doesn't listen and continues squeezing me to death. Things get worse when Miles decides to join the group hug.

"I-can't-breath-" I manage to get out and pull back. Are they high on sugar?

"You two are acting like we haven't met in ages," I chuckle. "You guys came to my place yesterday, remember?"

They return my enthusiasm with straight faces.

That's weird. "Guys?" I mutter. "Is everything okay?"

Grace shakes her head. "Nothing is okay."

"And things will never be okay again," Miles adds dramatically.

"You are scaring me," I chuckle nervously.

"We should," Miles says. "Seriously Kiara, what were you thinking when you changed the topic of your column? I thought you submitted that Uganda article."

I furrow my brows. "What are you saying? I did submit an article on Uganda." Our families went to visit Uganda this summer and I wrote a report on it. I attached a photo of the city we stayed in too.

Grace nods. "Technically, you did submit an article on Uganda, but not the kind of article you should've."

I open my mouth but Miles's phone cuts me. He reads it and looks at me with wide eyes. "Kiara, if you love your life even this bit," he says swishing his thumb and pointer finger together. "Then I suggest you make a run for it."

"Why? Is Donal Trump coming after it?" I remember I wrote a few terrible tweets about him, which received a good number of likes and retweets.

Now Twitter isn't that kind of social media. It's educational, especially for those who want to study Journalism later.

"No, his youngest son," Grace replies, rolling her eyes.

"But isn't he like twelve or something?"

"You're not taking this seriously," Miles cuts in. "I can't believe you took that photo from me without telling. I thought you wanted me to throw it-"

"There she is!" Someone yells from down the hallway. I watch as both of my best friends freeze.

"Run!" Miles yells and shoves me in the opposite direction. Loud footsteps approach from behind them.

Before I can ask him why Miles pushes me again. I stumble a little and hear the footsteps getting louder. So I do as they told me. I run in the other direction.

However, today's not my day. Just as I turn in the corner, two hands catch me from behind and push me against the set of lockers. In a matter of a few seconds, I find myself pressed between some stranger's locker and a huge tall body with my arms pinned above my head.

I turn my head upward and recognize the person instantly. My eyes widen and I search for my voice to scream for help.

"You fucking witch!" Ashton yells in my ears. At any other time, I might've laughed at his choice of words. But now's not that time. Instead, I find myself whimpering in fear. I don't even know what I've done wrong. Still, I give it a go. "I'm innocent, I haven't done anything, forget about doing anything wrong."

His laugh runs chills down my spine. "You haven't done anything?" He lifts a brow.

I nod my head violently. Don't get me wrong, I'm not usually the pleading type. But beggars can't be choosers. I'm doing this for the sake of my theory: stay as far as possible from Ashton Fellan.

I try to move but end up pressing my face on his chest. How can a human be so tall?

Ashton suddenly lets go of my arms and takes a step back.

I nurse the numb spot of my arms. His grip surely left bruises behind. And here I thought he didn't know I still exist a while ago...

Ashton takes me by surprise when he cups my cheeks and shoves a paper on my face.

"Then explain what this is!"

I peel the paper off my face. My eyes fall on the column which is published under my name. Blood drains out of my face.

I don't find the article I've written there. Nor the picture I've submitted with it.

Instead, there's an article that is definitely not written by me with an attached photo that I thought was gone long ago. It brings back an unwanted memory of last summer that I'm trying to forget for the last two months.

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