The Fallen Angel

40.Maybe later

"Get in, princess," Jacob called out from the window of his fancy blue car, the sleek vehicle practically begging for attention. I glanced at it with a blank expression, unimpressed by the flashy display. "No thanks," I replied casually, hopping onto my bike and pedaling away down the street.

But they weren't about to let me off the hook that easily. Jacob and his crew pulled up beside me once more, their persistence matched only by their incredulity. "Come on, why are you so boring?" he teased, his tone laced with playful exasperation.

I just shrugged, unfazed by their attempts to lure me into their world of glitz and glamour.

I peered into the car and was hit with a blast of music that could rival a concert. Amidst the cacophony, I spotted Adrian chilling in the backseat, but he acted like I was invisible. "Nah, I'm good, Jacob," I called out with a smirk, brushing off their persistent attempts to get me to join them.

I flashed them a grin, pretending to be unfazed by their flashy ride and pulsating beats.

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Man, that classroom was like watching paint dry, I swear. I couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a hot minute without feeling like I was about to faceplant into my textbook. Every time I tried to stay awake, my head started doing the bob-and-weave like it was auditioning for a boxing match. Next thing I knew, I was out cold, drooling on my desk without a care in the world. I must've looked like one of those bobblehead dolls, nodding off to dreamland without a clue. It's like my brain hit the snooze button without asking for permission. Classic case of classroom coma, am I right?

I swear, I could hear the sweet sound of the bell ringing, signaling the end of the torture chamber they call class, but my body was straight-up refusing to cooperate. Then, out of nowhere, I hear the teacher's voice cutting through the fog of my semi-consciousness like a chainsaw through butter. "Get up, Isabelle," she says, probably wondering if I've morphed into some kind of human paperweight.

Once she's gone, I finally crack open my eyelids, only to realize I'm all alone in this deserted classroom. No sound except for the occasional chirp of a bird outside, and the curtain's acting like my personal sun shield, leaving me in my own little cocoon of darkness. And let's not even talk about my neck, which feels like it got tangled up in a game of Twister and lost big time. Ouch. Just another day in the thrilling saga of Isabelle vs. The Classroom.

I was in the middle of a seriously epic nap when suddenly, BAM, someone decided to play the role of the Sleep Police and rudely knock on my desk. "Where's your notebook?" their voice echoed in my sleep-addled brain, and all I could manage was a mumbled, "I don't know, leave me be," before drifting back off into dreamland, complete with bonus snoring sound effects.

But nope, that wasn't enough to deter my intruder. They had to go and bang on the desk again like it owed them money. "What?" I grumbled, finally lifting my head from my makeshift pillow of textbooks, only to pout like a cranky toddler when I saw it was none other than Adrian, the bearer of bad news.

"You ruined my sleep," I accused him, feeling totally justified in my outrage, even if he didn't seem to care one bit. Ignoring my protest, he hit me with the million-dollar question: "Where's your book?"

He yanked the book off the desk like he was snatching a trophy and started strolling away like he owned the place. "Woah, woah, that was totally rude," I interjected, blocking his path and crossing my arms in defiance.

"What's with the attitude?" I pressed, trying to meet his gaze, but he kept avoiding eye contact like he was on a mission to escape interrogation.

Before he could make a break for it, I dropped the bombshell: "Well, you should know how to show some respect around here." Confusion flickered across his face, but he kept on walking, his determination unwavering.

"What do you mean?" I persisted, my frustration mounting. "Are you talking about yesterday? I only did what I did to keep the peace and make sure nobody felt left out. I didn't play favorites or anything."

But it was like talking to a brick wall. He just kept on striding away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.

"Why am I always left out?" I muttered to myself, feeling the sting of exclusion gnawing at me from the inside out. Finally, unable to contain my frustration any longer, I erupted into a shout: "Fine, I won't show you any respect from now on!"

But before I could storm off in a dramatic huff, he swooped in and snagged my ear like he was reeling in a misbehaving puppy. "Ouch, that hurts!" I protested, shooting him a fierce frown.

"I don't like your attitude," I said, trying to maintain my composure even as a smile threatened to break through. But to my surprise, he returned my smile with one of his own.

"Well, you should have listened to me," he replied, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of sincerity. It was like a scene straight out of a cheesy rom-com.