Striking Lies

Chapter Thirty Five: Yep, I'm in the bushes now.

Chapter Thirty-five:

                “I just don’t get it!!”

“Hint the reason for me!”

“Now that can be justified.”

“Yippee, you learned a new word!”

“It’s called a sentence doll.”

“Oh my goodness, please don’t tell me that you’ve picked up that rich accent like your mother has…darling.”

“Oh so now this is about my mother?”

“No this is about you not knowing trig.”

“I just don’t get it!!”

I put a hand to my forehead, thinking back to all the relentless amounts of times that he had said that sentence today.

“What is going on down there?” My mother shouted, making me and Damon jump at the shrill in her voice.

I really need an Advil.

“Nothing!” Damon and I coursed, glaring in each other’s direction. My mom stomped down the wooden steps, overlooking where me and Damon has set up shop in the dining room.

“Doesn’t really sound like nothing to me.” She stated, throwing on a smile despite the big tantrum she just threw.

A smile for Damon.

“How was your first day Damon? Did Charlotte treat you right?” She asked him as if I could treat him wrong. Let me count the ways…

“It was interesting.” He told her, glancing at me with his violet eyes.

What is that supposed to mean?

“You do have classes with Charlotte right?” She asked him, like she doesn’t know that she gave Ashley my school schedule so they could put us in the same classes.

“We have science together.”

And Spanish and Math.

“Oh is that right? That seems…fun.” She said, grimacing at the fact that she wasn’t able to get us in,

Every. Single. Class. Together.

She extended along the steps more, her heels on her shoes clicking against the stained wood.

“Well, I have to go to work. Be home at eleven.” She told me, waving her hand and walking out the front door.

I rolled my eyes, glancing back to Damon and sighing to myself.

“Why won’t you just let me copy off of your homework?” He asked with his eyebrows up and his bottom lip curled.

“How much of an idiot do you think I am?” I asked him, taking a seat along his side.

“I’m just hoping that you are.”

I glared at him, clicking my mechanical pencil in my palm and going back to the sheet of work I had come upon today.

“Thankfully I’m not like you.”

“What popular?”

Is he serious?

“No, an idiot.” I said slowly. “I really don’t get it, why the popular chain is such a big deal. I mean if you think about it, how popular you are now won’t matter when you go out in the big world. Only intelligence does.”

“So are you saying that’s the reason why you’re not popular? Because you want to go to Harvard or Yale?” He asked me, shuffling through paper after paper in front of him.