Hawthorne Shots

I'll Be Damned.

Cut to the part when I got out from the Admin office. I checked my class number. 4A. Huh. Guess this school does block sectioning. I half sprinted and went for the door to go outside.

I drove a short way to the North Wing and checked out the whole building.

Daaaaamn.

I sighed and got out of my car, stopped at the entrance and tapped my ID on the scanner. Checking my cellphone for updates with the band, I walked absent-mindedly while lowkey knowing the way to the elevator.

As I got inside, I pressed '4' and waited, still checking my phone. Seconds later I got out, welcomed by the cool air from the AC, and strode through the hallways, checking the locker numbers.

As I made sure I got mine, I entered the default passcode then re-entered my own. Luckily, my locker is near the corner, so I decided to go to the girl's bathroom nearby and changed my pants to shorts.

Satisfied with my attire, I went back to my locker and put the pants inside. I rummaged through other things that won't be needed in class and placed them inside the locker as well.

Class 4A wasn't that hard to find. There are only 3 sections per year so basically, three classroom in each floor. The rest of the floor consists of the teacher's room, bathrooms, and the student council office. There are other rooms I think at the other parts of the floor but I haven't got a chance to look around them yet.

I knocked for formalities and opened the door, realizing that knocking was useless because most students are engrossed and are facing their backs on me, looking at one particular part of the room.

Of course they're here.

"Mudane school life. Mundane." I whispered, trying to observe all the happenings while still standing at the door.

As if on cue, four set of eyes landed on me, the blonde eyeing me carefully, then sat straight.

Noticing now that they are all looking at me, most girls gave me glares and whispered to each other.

I shrugged and looked for an available chair. The second chair from the back still has an open spot, so I adjusted my sling bag then marched my way to there.

Currently, I am sitting beside Margarita (as she would call herself). I then checked my phone, messaging my bandmates to wish me good luck.

I can still feel the stares directed into me but I just shrugged it off, almost getting used to the feeling.

"Hey weirdo. What's your deal?" A brunette  who is apparently now in front of me, asked.

I looked at her but right before I could ask what she meant by that, she gasped and squinted her eyes, looking straight at my face.

"Tell me those are contacts."

"What?"

"I mean, your eyes! Those are contact lenses, right?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"They're not."

"Don't lie to me." she said, scoffing and waving her hand up and down. "You can be honest about it. Anyways," she raked my body from head to toe, "I wouldn't be surprised if you're faking it."

I looked at her from head to toe then smirked. "Yeah. I can see why."

Her face reddened at my short clapback, but before she can say anything, I cut her off.

"You want honesty?" I said, tapping my nails to the armrest.

I heard one of the boys at my back whispered, "Incoming." and the other two chuckled.