The Six Words [discontinued]

15

Chapter 15

~Arabelle's POV~

I looked at Isabelle, trying to keep a smile off my face. Call me mean, but this was kind of funny. Isabelle always acted as a... queen bee. And is was DEFINITELY funny to see her falter. I'm sorry, no not really...

(A/N: #sorrynotsorry)

"Um. Italy," she said, her bare toes curling in the sand uncomfortably.

"Yeah!" I said.

"Yup. It was a fun place. Very lively. Have you lived anywhere other than England and here?" She said quickly, trying to change the subject.

"Not really," I said carefully. I (Melody) have been to a bunch of places around the country: New York, LA... (those two cities were mainly photoshoots) But Isabelle wouldn't expect Arabelle to have visited around the US but not anywhere in Europe. So I just stuck with saying I didn't really travel. "My parents don't like airplanes," I explained. "Or long car drives. That's part of why I decided to be a foreign exchange student."

That went pretty smoothly. I was getting better at lying.

For anyone who enjoys the irony: we were both telling lies to each other. So much for an honest friendship.

She didn't respond; instead, she was kind of staring into space. Unless she was eyeing the group of boys who were coming towards us...

I frowned, then squinted my eyes in their direction. Was that... I smiled. It was a couple of guys who went to our school... and James!

"Hey! James!" I called out, waving them over.

Isabelle grabbed my shoulders. "What are you doing?!?" she hissed.

I smirked a bit. "What? I thought you and James were dating."

Suddenly she frowned. "Wait. How did you know that? And how did you know him in the first place?"

Oops. Big oops. "Um, I saw him. He's in, um, he's in my math class..."

"No..." she said, drawing out the word. "He's not."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm in your math class, and he is not in it."

Shoot. "Right, I must have meant history." I scanned my memories. Did we have the same history class? No... I don't think we had any classes together this year. Great. Lies. Just great.

Isabelle looked me in the eye with a stare that tells me she knows exactly how much of the truth I'm telling: none. I swallowed, prepared to give an excuse...

"Hey, Isabelle!" a voice exclaimed from behind me, saving my butt. I gave Isabelle a glare that said nothing happened here and plastered a smile on my face. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a guy I didn't recognize standing right there. He was tall, with messy light brown hair that seemed to look alright even though he probably didn't comb it.

My heart skipped a beat.

"And who're you?" he said to me, furrowing his brows. Even that one gesture made him look cuter...

"Aaron, this is Arabelle," Isabelle said to him.

"Hey," I said, trying to manage a cool-looking nod. I'm anything but popular, and I really don't want to be either. Usually. Right now I would love to have the title of "popular" to my list of accomplishments. Cuz that list is currently pretty short.

I look at the group. Aaron stood in the front, with a few other guys behind him. James, strangely, seemed to be hiding out at the back of the group. He kept glancing at Isabelle, then at me, then back at Isabelle.

I frowned.

I needed to figure out what's wrong, now.

"So," I said awkwardly. "What's up, guys?"

~Isabelle's POV~

As I watched Arabelle chat with the guys, obviously sort of uncomfortable, my mind kept reeling at what I'd learned. What was it about Arabelle that kept bugging me? She and James had history class together? Yeah, no. And anyway, he freaking broke up with me today. If she'd talked to him today, he would have called me his ex, not his girlfriend.

And Arabelle didn't act like she should, either. She was British, and I'm pretty sure saying "What's up" is an American mannerism. And her accent wavers sometimes, making her sound like she's from California rather than London.

When the conversation finally ends and they guys leave, I turned the Arabelle. "Look," I said firmly. "I know you're hiding something from me."

Her mouth opened and closed. "What?" She squeaked out. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I narrowed my eyes. "Believe me, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No! No, I really don't." She looks nervous. For a second, she reminds me a lot of Melody. Of when I was mean to her, before I "moved to Italy". I hated that, and the only reason why I bullied her was because I was being blackmailed.

Now, I guess, I've graduated to a whole new level of mean.

I pushed my feelings away. I gotta be strong.

"You call yourself a British model?" I sneered.

She looked at me fearfully.

"You're not even pretty."

The words hit her like a physical blow.

"Then why am I a model?" She asked, her face turning a cherry red.

"See? You're dumb too. That's the point. You weren't a model, were you?"

A/N: Sorry for the long wait.

~Shruti <3 & Karlie :>