~Elizabeth~
A/N That guy up there (or wherever) is Dylan O'Brien. (ノ^o^)ノ
He continued smirking down at me, and I couldn't help but notice his features. He was rather attractive; I guess I was just too mad to notice? Under all of that 'bad boy' costume, was probably a pretty masculine guy... and I just noticed; we were matching...! I seriously need to change.
"I find you very interesting," Cole said, drawing me out of my thoughts. I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at him. Was he serious, or was it just part of being a player? Either way, I wasn't interested.
I laughed. "Listen, I don't you need you coming around here, telling me that you"- I gestured toward my body in a funny way - "want to get with this, and then leave? Nah ah, boy. I don't play like that." I dramatically flipped my hair after turning on my heel, and laughed when it hit Cole's face. I reconnected with Dakota and we were skipping stupidly as we hummed "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" together and laughed. This is what I loved about being with my best friend. I get to act stupid whenever and where ever I want with her.
~∆~
Finally, the fourth bell rang and it was probably the most lamest class I've had throughout my whole high school. History. Why? It's getting pretty old. I mentally high-fived myself for that joke.
And guess who I have class with? Yup, Cole Vincent. That little punk will probably be bothering me the whole semester. I was sitting in the middle row, staring off into space at a window, not giving the slightest care about what the teacher was saying. I know, 'But Elizabeth, you need to learn why John F. Kennedy died, and how Benjamin Franklin blah blah.'
Frankly, I don't give two sacks of potatoes about history. It's not really part of being the bad girl, it's just that history has a way of making some things boring.
"Ahem," the teacher called out, waking me up from my daydream. It seems that I always forget the teacher's name. She is a big lady, so I'll just call her Miss Plump. I turned toward Miss Plump and she was glaring at me through her glasses and her hands - more like footballs - were on her hips.
I stared boringly into her eyes. "Yes, Miss Plum- I mean, Miss?" I smiled innocently, even though I wanted to laugh my heart out and die. Some of the guys were snickering. Miss Plump glared even more, shaking her potato-head. Literally, it was in the exact shape of a potato. I successfully held back a laugh that was trying to break free from my throat-jail, as I tried to make my face serious. "Miss Ryan," the teacher said, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples as if I was giving her a tornado-of-a headache.
"You should really be paying attention in this class. Take this as your fifth warning, Miss Ryan, and I will send you to detention." I rolled my eyes. "Go ahead," I said, leaning back into my chair, "It is my second home after all." Some of the guys were ooh-ing, as if shit was about to go down. By now, Miss Plump was fuming wither anger. Now she looked like a potato - not that I'm making fun of potatoes - that was boiling and turned red with food color, and tasted horrible.
"That's it, Elizabeth Ryan!" she practically yelled. Whenever she gets really pissed off, she'll use your full name. Even for some of the Mexican students here, who have really long-ass names. And what's more funnier about that is that she can never pronounce the names right, because she's a gringa. Like saying Julio, she'll pronounce it joo-lee-oh. It's funny as hell. "Detention for a week! For disrupting the class and for disrespecting me! Now get out of my class!" I smirked, but she didn't notice, and I grabbed my backpack and left my History book on the table. When I was just about to leave, Miss Plump turned around toward the board and I just had the most amazing idea. I stood a little beside her, and in front if her, enough for the class to see, and I started to mimick what she was doing and saying.
