Poor Little Rich Girl | ✓

Chapter 6: You Look Like You Have A Boyfriend

Chapter 6: You Look Like You Have A Boyfriend

“So what class do you have next?” He asks as we leave the room.

“I have computer applications, whatever that is.” I tell him, inspecting my schedule.

Wesley raises an eyebrow, “I’ll pray for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. West, the computer apps teachers is crazy, like for real.”

I roll my eyes at his dramaticness. “That can’t be true. Why would they hire a crazy teacher?”

He shrugs, “Hell if I know. What I do know though, is that I had his class last year and I seriously couldn’t take it. I dropped it after a half a semester.”

“Well, all that’s left now is a half a semester, right?”

“Right.”

“Then I should be fine. Besides, I’m Steffy Vandergeld, after all.”

“I’m sure that’ll get you through it.” Wesley says sarcastically.

“I bet it will.” I retort. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What class do you have next?”

“Oh, I have boys athletics.”

I crinkle my forehead, “Is that a class where boys just play sports?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, pretty much. You know, unless it rains then we watch movies, but that’s it, really.”

“Wow, I should definitely get in on this.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure they’d let you in. You’re just missing one thing.”

“And what’s that?” I ask as we walk down the hallway. I guess wherever his Boys Athletics class is located is down here somewhere, but so is my computer apps class.

“A penis.” Wesley says bluntly, then laughs. “The gym's all the way out back, so I’ll catch you later.”

“Hardy-har, so funny. But okay, see you around.” I reply, waving to him as he heads in the opposite direction.

Walking through the crowded hallways - the weird thing is, this school doesn’t even have that many people, but I feel crowded. Like my private school in L.A. only had about a two hundred and fifty students, roughly six-two or something like that in each class, which was nice. This school probably has about five hundred kids, and it’s freaking me out, because all the people in the hallways are seriously overwhelming me.

I reach room 205 - the number it says on my schedule - and walk into the room. This is definitely a computer applications class room. I mean, there are at least forty computers in here. Although, they’re the really crappy kind. Like the blocky kind that they had like a hundred years ago. Okay, I know they didn’t have computers one hundred years ago, but if they did, that’s what they’d look like. Another reason my old school was better than this one. We had flat screen computers, the new touch screen kind.

Moving away from the doorway, which is being flooded by students who, in not the nicest words, tell me to get out of their way, I walk over to the large desk at the back of the room which has a weird looking man sitting there. I’m not sure whether or not to bother him, because his eyes are closed, but he’s sitting up in his chair with poised posture, which is how I know for a fact he’s not asleep. He has on the ugliest shirt I’ve ever seen in my life, though. It’s a blue flowery shirt that you only see on old fat men who are in Hawaii with their families. His feet are also peeking from underneath the desk and he has a pair of rugged looked sandals on. Maybe he’s poor.