Don't Take It Personal

T W O

"IT'S definitely drop out season." Layla used a hair brush to brush through her long, thick brown hair.

Each year, she went on the same drop out rant.

"My English teacher honestly has one more time to fail me because I apparently didn't analyze enough. How the fuck am I supposed to analyze a poem?"

I remember Layla going on the same rant last year. It was even worse this time since she failed the class, and ended up back in English III with the same teacher.

I was leaned against the bathroom wall, zooming into a photo on my camera roll since someone had airdropped a photo of the math quiz when we were in gym earlier.

"I don't know, but I do know that I'm not gonna fail this math quiz anymore."

"You have the answers?" Layla looked over to me before putting her brush back in her backpack, zipping it up afterwards and slipping it over one shoulder.

"Someone sent them," I replied. "Hoping they're right."

"Good luck with that. Last year when I had Mrs Richardson, all of our quizzes were different. She may be young but she definitely isn't stupid."

I turned my phone off, putting it in my jeans pocket. "Mm. Thanks."

The bathroom door opened up and someone walked in.

She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. Her blonde hair was down past her shoulders.

I watched as she stopped in her tracks, her blue eyes eying us before walking over to the sink next to Layla, putting her purse down.

That would definitely be Brooklyn.

Layla and me both made eye contact.

"Was that really necessary?" I leaned my head against the wall.

"Why do you think everything is directed at you?" She slightly turned to give me her full attention. "It's getting weird."

"I wasn't talking to you," I lifted my shoulders, switching my gaze to her. "But if that look wasn't directed to us, who was it directed to? The wall?"

"The wall would be better to look at than you, so I guess so." She looked back to the mirror, unscrewing the top to a dior lip oil and applying it to her lips.

We had hardly been at school for a full day, but we were already going at it.

"You're not even pretty," Layla replied before I even got a chance to. "I don't really think you should be talking, but I don't know."

"And what, you think you look better?" Brooklyn lightly laughed. "Your confidence is blinding."

"Put some shades on."

Brooklyn leaned against the sink, pursing her lips together, starting to get irritated by us.

Yet she still lingered.

"Don't you have something better to do?" I wondered. "Maybe like, messing with the football team for the third time?"

"I heard third times a charm," Layla's eyes found mine, nodding before she looked back to Brooke.

I would've thought that two times were enough for being passed around.

Sad honestly.

"Mad that Isaac picked me and not you? It's okay, I would be mad too." She gave a short smile.

It was getting weird how she immediately resorted to thinking I was upset at the fact that I wasn't in a relationship with Isaac.

It seemed like she didn't even want him at that point.