The Tomboy and The Boy

6-"Be Calm, Be Cool, Be Taylor Swift."

Max-

I walk into my first period a few minutes late. It's not my fault-I don't know this school at all!

I give a pass to the teacher, who checks it and nods.

She points to a seat surrounded by people I don't know.

I walk over and quietly slip into the seat, trying to me as subtle as possible.

Doesn't work.

The people around me stare like I'm a two-headed walrus with asthma wearing a neon green sparkly top hat.

I mentally roll my eyes at their blatant staring and pull out my French notebook.

I look over around the classroom and am slightly disappointed to see that Brent isn't in the same class. But Aimee is, and she waves frantically at me.

I grin and turn my attention to the teacher ahead, who begins to lecture in French about food and manners.

Yay.

~*~

"MAX!" I turn around to see a breathless Aimee chasing me down the hall.

"Hi," I say. She snatches my schedule out of my hand and compares it to hers.

"LOOK! We have first, second, third, fifth, and seventh together!"

"What? Really? That's crazy." I say as I look over her shoulder.

She links her arm through mine and practically drags me downstairs, where our math class is, presumably.

When we enter the classroom, Aimee stops and whirls around and grabs my shoulders. "Be cool, Max. Be calm, be cool, be...Taylor Swift. Be calm, be cool, be Taylor Swift."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, but she drags me into the classroom without another word.

We take a seat next to each other in a cluster of desks pushed together to make a table.

Personally, I hate tables. I prefer rows, because I get claustrophobic with all these people around me. Yeesh. It's like, "Do you not understand why there is one seat at this desk? Get out of my personal space bubble."

Kids these days.

As we wait for our teacher to grace us with his presence, I take a look around at the students in the class.

A group of giggly girls in the far corner and a bunch of wanna-be-cool boys are across the room. Scattered around are girls and boys reading, talking, comparing schedules and more.

I glance at Aimee. She's looking at the clock, but I can't help but tease her. I poke her arm. "You're staring at that boy over there,"I say in a joking whisper.

Aimee doesn't take her eyes off of the clock but reaches over and punched me hard on my upper arm.

Ouch.

The teacher walks in. Five minutes after the bell.

I sit up, and try to set a good example. Aimee snorts at my efforts and leans her head against her palm and sighs, obviously disliking this class already. Who can blame her? I don't like math either.

~*~

The third class of the day is English. When Aimee and I walk in, the teacher greets us cheerily. She looks like she's in her early twenties.

I can't help but notice the boy I was teasing Aimee about is in this class too.

Coincidence? I think not. Okay, yeah that is a coincidence. BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT.

I feel a poke on my shoulder and I turn to see Brent smirking at me.

"Hey, Little Miss Max," he says.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Little Miss Max?"

His face turns slightly red. He mumbles something along the lines of, "Ididntwantyoutoknowicallyouthatsh*timstupid,".

"What?" I ask leaning forward a bit.

"Nothing," Brent says quickly.

I grin at him and face forward as the teacher calls the class to order.

With Brent here, I can tell this class is going to be a blast.

~*~

This chapter is crappy.

I HONESTLY HATE IT.

Whatever.

I didn't proofread, so sorry for any typos.

I don't like math. Opinion. So all you math lovers, don't hate on me :'(

Vote! Fan! FOLLOWWW PLEASE!

Xox, Anna Petersen