5 Ways to Ruin Casey Brandt

f i v e

♡ BRIAR ♡

The first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

There's the time it takes to locate your building, the mistake of getting lost on the wrong floor, and the stress of selecting a seat you won't regret halfway through the year.

Thankfully, I managed to find my classroom easily this morning. The building is the same as two of my classes last semester, one of which was the one I am currently retaking. It's even on the same floor. It was selecting a seat that took some time.

The lecture hall is large and almost full. Most of them seem young. Unseasoned. Probably freshman. Probably not sophomores retaking a relatively easy course.

I've been cursing myself since I first saw that final grade, the D that put me back in the class, and plan not to repeat my mistake. Even if the same thing happens, I won't let any of Casey Brandt's followers affect my grade. Or my life. Never again.

I finally decide on a seat in the last row. I can see and hear just fine—plus there's less risk of being spotted all the way back here. It hasn't happened anywhere on campus yet but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. I know how cruel the student body can be. I'll be keeping my guard up.

I unpack my things one at a time. My notebook, already half used, a pen and pencil, and my disgusting textbook. If I want to eat for a while, I can't afford a new one. Especially since I already paid full price, something I would never normally do, but they only sell it at the campus bookstore. Professor Ardell wrote it himself—took him years, apparently—and I guess can't blame him for reaping the profits. I did try to exchange it, though. When I brought the soggy thing into the bookstore the student behind the register said there was nothing she could do. So, with no replacement, I'll just have to make this work.

Just before class begins I feel someone sit beside me. I don't look up, though the action irritates me. There are so many open seats not near me. I brush it off, as I plan to do with everything this year. I'm already scribbling down important pieces of the syllabus projected up at the front.

"No way."

"It is. I swear."

I cautiously spare a glance to the girls two rows up, who are looking back at me and giggling. I suppress a groan. It's like last year all over again. The staring. Whispering. Distractions that led to my grade slipping. The final project that demolished it all together.

When it was time to start getting ready to return to school, I decided a change was in order. I thought dyeing my hair darker, almost black, and growing it to my mid back would make me a little less recognizable. Maybe it was wishful thinking. I keep writing, tucking my chin closer to my chest.

"You're right," the first girl whispers. "It's him."

Him? Oh, no.

No, no, no.

"I can't believe we have a class with Casey Brandt."

I nearly break my neck with how quickly I glance to my right side. Lo and behold, there he is. Like an infection that you can never get rid of, Casey Brandt is sitting back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss.

He smiles at me. I almost punch him.

"Despite what fellow students say, skipping syllabus week isn't the right way to start a semester," he says.

I get the feeling he has never attended a class during syllabus week before today, but, that's the least of my concerns. The giggling girls have drawn the attention of a few other students. Even as Professor Ardell talks about the learning objectives for the next few weeks, eyes are flocking to us.