Ashley, an introverted 18-year-old senior at Jacksonville High School, has a guarded demeanor shaped by her complicated past. The impact of her childhood trauma has left her with lingering issues regarding maternal relationships. Currently, Ashley i...
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After the uncomfortable encounter with Ms. DeLuca, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts. I couldn't help but chide myself for my naivety. I should've known better than to trust her with my secrets, but I had opened up to her, pouring my heart out in that damn journal. And for what? She betrayed my trust, reminding me why I should keep my problems to myself.
After 3rd Hour
I made my way to my locker after a miserable twenty minutes in Mr. Reed's class, my mind stuck in an endless loop of overthinking. With a five-minute break between classes, I headed to my locker to grab the essentials for my next class. As I was rummaging for the last folder, I suddenly felt someone behind me, which startled me.
I turned around to find myself face-to-face with Lyla's gorgeous face. Her golden, straight hair framed a pair of crystal-clear azure eyes, and dimples deepened on her cheeks as she unleashed a mischievous laugh.
"Lyla, what in the actual hell is wrong with you!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of surprise and annoyance. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Lyla halfheartedly apologized while still laughing. "That was just too easy."
"You're a bitch, you know that?" I retorted, my tone light and teasing. With a sudden rush of emotion, I pulled Lyla into a tight embrace. She gasped, surprised by my unexpected display of affection. The events of the morning came crashing back into my mind, and I clung to her like a lifeline. After what I had found out Mrs. Alexander had done today, I desperately needed this moment of comfort. My arms wrapped around her firmly, holding her as if she were my last tether to reality.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Lyla asked softly as she embraced me. She tenderly stroked my blonde hair, caressing each strand with a loving touch. Her fingers grazed through the silky locks, gently massaging my scalp and sending a wave of tingling sensations down my spine. Her touch was gentle, as if she were handling a delicate piece of fabric, and I couldn't help but close my eyes, relishing the feeling of her touch on my hair.
When I finally looked up at her, I felt tears welling in my eyes. "I trusted her, Lyla," I confessed, "I trusted her and she made me look stupid." The tears were falling freely now. I probably looked so stupid crying in the middle of the hallway as people were trying to pass by.
Lyla looked at me with confusion written on her face. "Who is she?" a flash of anger in her eyes left as quickly as it came. "I swear I'll kill anyone who made my baby Ash cry." I let out a dry laugh at the nickname, considering I was older than her by a few months.
"It's Mrs Alexander," I let out reluctantly.
"That bitch!"
Lyla had an inexplicable dislike for Mrs. Alexander, and honestly, I couldn't quite put my finger on why. When we first met her, she seemed friendly and caring, the ideal person to confide in. Or so I thought, until today. My interactions with her went beyond just discussing my profound thoughts. Sometimes, we would simply sit in silence in her classroom, with her tending to her work while I quietly observed her.
Her petite yet curvy figure, her long cascading curls the color of midnight, her lightly tanned complexion, her warm, honey-brown eyes, her plump, inviting lips—her beauty was undeniable
"I'll kil-" Lyla's rant was abruptly cut off by the sound of the bell signaling the end of passing time. Damn, we were late again. It was only Tuesday, but this was already the fifth time this week. I couldn't help but let out a stifled giggle at her frustrated outburst.
I quickly grabbed her arm and slammed my locker shut, and we dashed off to class, knowing full well that Ms. Adams was going to chew us out. As we approached the classroom door, we hesitantly hovered outside, feeling the weight of another impending lecture from the dreaded Ms. Adams.
"Knock the damn door already, Lyla!" I hissed in a frustrated voice. "What are you waiting for? We're already late again, and we both know Ms. Adams is going to have a field day with us."
Lyla huffed, feigning confusion. "What, me? Why do I have to knock?" She acted like a child, and it irritated me. Yet, to my perplexity, Ms. Adams always seemed to favor her more than me. It was mind-boggling considering how similar we were, and if anything, Lyla was the more talkative one.
"I'll pay for your lunch."
Lyla hastily knocks on the door, and I can't help but smirk internally. She's far too easy. The door opens, revealing an intimidating, five-foot, eighty-year-old woman. Her presence alone sends a shiver down my spine. Trying to show some respect, I muster a small smile, hoping to signal my peaceable intentions.
Ms. Adams' voice, low and crackly, pierces the air. "And might I ask why you two are late again?"
"We had some issues with our lockers," I hastily replied, the first explanation that popped into my mind. The petite teacher rolled her eyes in disbelief and gestured for us to enter the classroom. *
Hey loves, sorry this chapter is so short. I really just needed a filler and I wanted to introduce Lyla into the story. Let me know if you liked it. Also if there are any other writers, I would love tips on how to make chapters longer and more detailed! -Shiloh🪷
