"N-Nothing sir," I stuttered, sinking into my chair moodily.
You see, I just moved here, and let's just say I'm not the most talkative freshman out there.
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You would think by the way I dress that I'm probably some good for nothing dumbass that smokes pot near the 99 Cents store, but nope, I'm not. In reality, I'm just that one stupid friend that tries drinking as many Slurpees as they can in one sitting without barfing. The only class I talk in is choir, but that's because they're like my family.
Anyway, something really weird happened in English.
"Jackilyn, you're going to be paired up with Alex for the Edgar Allan Poe short story assignment," the teacher instructed.
Shit... not fucking Alex...he's the class clown type of person and he's super loud and annoying.
"Hola, Mamacita!" Alex yelled in a joking tone.
"I will bash your fucking skull in," I hissed under my breath before insulting him audibly; "I have a name, idiot."
"Isn't it Janeilyn or some shit?" he asked, laughing slightly, the skin around the corner of his eyes crinkling, showing his amusement.
"Jackie. Never call me Jackilyn if you want to live another day," I threatened him.
"Damn! Emo bitch got some anger issues, bro!" he yelled to his friends across the room.
I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close to me with my fist raised, ready to punch him.
"Bro, bro, chill, I was kidding!" he exclaimed, but I didn't listen to him for shit, so I punched him in the nose.
And, you see, my teacher didn't really like that, so he sent us far away from the classroom...to supervision.
"Jackilyn—" the vice principal, Sanchez, began.
"—Jackie," I interrupted, feeling my nerves spiking as a strange feeling ran through my whole body. I pondered over why
"Jackie, why did you punch this young man in the nose?" the vice principal questioned.
"He made a joke that pissed me off so I punched him." I put it as it was; plainly. The excuse sounded boring. I couldn't help but wonder if I would be called out for bullshit and be suspended or put in detention for who knows how long—
"Sit outside while I talk to the boy," the vice principal said with finality. A different emotion tugged deep down inside of me; I could feel a lump in my throat and my belly was filled with dread threatening to weigh me down.
I sat down on the ground outside, then did something unexpected...
I cried...for the first time in public.
I have no idea why I cried—it's fucking weird! But then, out of nowhere, my head began to pound and my thoughts ran wild in my brain. I realized that as soon as I started thinking about everything bad, everything negative that could happen, my breathing grew faster and my hands began to shake.
If I was gonna die, I didn't want to go like this, but I felt paralyzed and couldn't move at all.
Then some random, unfamiliar guy gave me a hug and comforted me, whispering into my ear, telling me to breathe, trying to convince me that everything was fine. It worked, surprisingly, and I calmed down, taking shuddering breaths of air.
He smelled good and it reminded me of baby powder—no, no, wait, those flowers—what were they called? Calla Lilies, right!
"Hey, it's OK," he murmured, still hugging me as I sobbed in embarrassment. He let go of me a few seconds later to look at my face, which, without a doubt looked like I'd been crying—and I had been, obviously!
"Th-thanks," I mumbled, looking up, before recoiling, noticing that it was Alex.
Ah, shit. Now this is gonna be awkward—why did I have to punch him?! Stupid, stupid, stupid—
"I'm sorry I called you an emo bitch," he apologized, lifting my chin up tentatively, as if he were helping an injured animal.
"I'm sorry I punched you..." I responded, standing up, only to notice that I was taller than him by a few inches. "You're short," I chuckled with a small smile.
"You're tall as shit," he admitted with a grin as we walked back into class.
When we both got back to the classroom, everyone did the fucking 'oooooooh' shit, you know what I'm talking about?—like what they did when a guy and a girl were paired up in 6th grade.
We sat down and maintained a short conversation before continuing to complete our assignment.
"Do you have discord?" I asked him.
"Not right now, but I have my number," Alex answered, picking up a pencil from the floor.
"Can I have your number instead?" I questioned.
"Sure." He smiled, wincing a little and pulling an ice pack from out of nowhere, placing it over his injury.
