Lunch was almost over so I scrambled to finish copying down Zoey's notes.
She was so kind for letting me borrow her history notebook, that way I could be on par with everyone on Mr. Harrison's history lesson from yesterday.
"Who does that pink notebook belong to?" Willow asked.
We've been eating lunch together ever since our conversation in Ms. Woods' class. Willow was a nice girl, she was quiet though and didn't speak much. Willow was reading most of the time so she was too busy to talk to me.
"It belong to Zoey, I'm just copying down her history notes".
Willow looked down at the notes before diving straight back into her book.
Done! Is said as I closed the notebook and got up from our table. "I'm going to go bring this to Zoey, do you know where she usually sits?".
Willow looked up and pointed at a table on the other side of the cafeteria. "Zoey should be there" she said.
I thanked Willow before walking off, holding the pink notebook beside my waist.
Once I reached the table I scanned around to find Zoey only to be greeted by her group of friends.
"What are you doing with Zoey's notebook?" A girl with brown pigtails and bangs asked.
Stuttering, I answered "Sh- She let me borrow it for our project together".
A tall guy with wavy brown hair and sharp eyes stared me down. "As if Zoey would work on a project with someone like you".
The blond girls next to him laughed.
"Just hand over the book" the girl in pigtails said, freckles covering her face.
Willow was right, her friends were jerks, as to be expected. Maybe Zoey is just like them.
Suddenly a soft voice spoke behind me. "Everything okay?". It was Zoey.
I turned around to face her and pushed the notebook into her hands as I ran off, hearing the laughter slowly become a blur.
YOU ARE READING
Outside the lines
Romance"Outside of the lines" is a short story about the exploration of identity and sexuality, represented by two characters who fall in love, Zoey Patterson, an 18 year old cheerleader attending Westfield Academy and her opposite, Rowan Sinclair, a flun...
