BAD OMENS ✬ luke hemmings

5.6 | sade

She looks around the courtyard. Not even three days back from break, senior attendance has taken a massive drop; the sunny space she and the fifty or more other students have spent the school year occupying is practically barren. The only group that remains intact, unbothered by the lack of 'useful classes' and need for 'attendance,' is Carla and Hazel's group– all eight of them.

Michael says that this time of the year is the most peaceful. He only makes that claim because all his classes have dropped, give or take, from the overwhelmingly high fourteen to nine and that the 'conventionally attractives' aren't around to make the day more dreadful than it already is.

However, he fails to acknowledge the fact that without the same people, he swears to hate, there are now fewer people to control the in-class discussions and answer questions—essentially putting him and everyone else on the spot. Aria also sees the newfound absence from the quote-unquote 'popular' group as a blessing, except the silence in classes is unbearable– she's participated in group discussions and answered more questions in the past three days than in the past four years.

Nevertheless, Luke and Calum are the only two from that god-forsaken group for whom she harboured so much resentment who haven't skipped most of the week and have bothered to show up. Although Calum's not planning on showing up tomorrow, she guesses his streak will be broken.

Aria can't blame anyone for skipping.

Imagine if she were to do that.

If she pretends to be all high and mighty when she's been contemplating it too. The only reason she hasn't skipped this week is because Sade has been begging her to show up– well, begging seems too loose of a term. No, Sade has been bribing Aria and their little group to show up by promising homemade Rice Krispies Treats, cookies, brownies, or bags of candy.

Then again, the girl has Spanish tomorrow and wants to avoid sitting through another class going over conjugation, comprehension sheets from past papers, or, worse, a listening practice, which is a real shame because Aria loves her Spanish teacher, that sweet woman who can do no wrong in her eyes—too bad.

Maybe she can get Luke in on it, tell him to skip tomorrow and induce the fear that he and two others will be sitting alone in that dark, depressing classroom going over topics for paper one and how to format their writing. He'll probably say no because tomorrow is his study hall day, but at this point, every class is just a 'study hall' with an academic title behind it.

Speaking of the blond, he's across the courtyard—as always—at his table with Calum and the few others who showed up today. Aria never knows what exactly they all talk about, but based on the way Luke shakes his head at everything, it's probably some stupid debate he's playing devil's advocate on.

"You guys can't just not show up tomorrow!" Sade exclaims, "It's literally prom week! What if you miss a promposal?" She questions, trying to reason with Michael, who has been complaining about how useless coming to school is based on the singular argument that he's accepted into university, he's done.

Michael rolls his eyes, gesturing his hand out to the empty courtyard, "What fucking promposal? Sade, do you see anyone around?" He asks, breaking off part of the giant cookie Sade had baked the night before, "Besides, the only promposals we've been getting this past week have been from the fucking eleventh graders – like I give a shit about them."

"Okay?" she hums, waving her hand in circles. "But tomorrow, who knows what will happen?" Sade turns to Aria, whose attention is far away from this current conversation—far more focused on deciphering what all the yelling going on across the courtyard is about. "Aria, help me out here!"