Neighbors with the Bad Boy (In Editing And Reconstruction)

Smashed Lips

Author's Note:

I didn't exactly like this chapter. I may edit a little bit of it-but it's be okay. Hope you guys enjoy:))

Chapter 4

My eyes were glued to the whiteboard, watching as Mrs. Doss wrote our next assignment for The Scarlet Letter.

I was now in my second period, which was my English Class. I have always loved English—mostly because I had always had a “thing” for writing and reading. Writing was where I could express my emotions and share my dreams, while reading was where I could be anything I wanted to be—a witch, a princess, or even a flower, though that was very unlikely. English has and would always be my favorite subject.

“Today, I want you to read chapters ten and elven. If you don’t finish either of these chapters in class, which I highly doubt you will, I want you to finish them for homework. Tomorrow, I want you to discuss these two chapters with partners. I don’t care how many people you pair up with just as long as you discuss the book—not socialize. Now get to reading,” Mrs. Doss demanded.

We all nodded and pulled our books out and began to read.

Chapter ten: The Leech and His Patient was printed at the top of the page. I turned my attention to the body of the chapter and began to read.

As I was about to avert my attention to the next page, a knock circulated around the room and we all looked up in surprise.

 Mrs. Doss rolled her eyes at our skittishness and walked over to the classroom door and opened it up. There appeared the dark brown-haired boy that I had seen this morning with the school’s counselor. I studied him intently and almost gasped once realizing who he was: My new neighbor.

I assumed that he was staying with relatives or friends or possibly at a hotel, because he and his mom (and possibly any other extensive family members I have not yet seen) have not officially moved inside the old (slowly decaying) house next to mine. But I had no confirmation of that so I decided not to let my thoughts continue.

“Uh, hi.” The brown-haired boy gave us all a curt wave.

“Hello… You must be the new student, Kayden Maxwell. It’s nice to meet you. Come in.” Mrs. Doss opened the door wider and ushered him in.

Once he was fully inside of the classroom, she closed the door. His doe-brown eyes hesitantly looked around the room, stopping on each and every one of us. Though once getting to me, they lingered. He curiously studied my face, and a glint of recognition popped into his eyes. Once he was done looking at me, he went to the next person and then the next person and then the next person and so forth.

“Kayden, why don’t you pick a seat? Any seat that you would like,” Mrs. Doss suggested with a small smile.

There were only two seats left in the class. One was located in the far back, neighboring next to Charles Longo: The Supposed Bad Boy, who only claimed to be a bad-ass because he wore a leather jacket and black skinny jeans. In my opinion, and I was sure in everyone else’s, he was nothing but a poser. The other empty seat was in the front, beside Sally Jenkins: The “Shy Girl,” but truthfully, she wasn’t shy—only pretended to be so she could lure the male population in with her fictitious innocence and blonde hair and then suck their faces off. Either way, whether picking a seat next to the Poser Bad Boy or the False Shy Girl, I felt bad for Kayden. He would have to choose between them. What a debate…

Though surprisingly, he carelessly, without any display of hesitation of making any type of indecisive deliberation, he snapped his attention to the nearest empty seat, which was next to Sally, and walked over there and sat down. Hmm . . . if I had been in his situation, I would have picked The Poser. Now he would have to put up with a fake bitch—but, I mean, judging by his infamous looks, I would assume that he was close to a player and an utter ass. It may have just been my judgmental side spewing out, but I had a feeling my predictions were correct.

“Okay, Class”—we all snapped our heads to Mrs. Doss—“get to work. Kayden, do you need a copy of The Scarlet Letter? If not, I can get you a copy of it today and give it to you tomorrow and catch you up with the class.”

“No . . . ma’am. I have one.” Kayden unzipped his book-bag and took out the book that, indeed, had The Scarlet Letter in medium-sized print on the bottom of the cover.

“What chapter are you on, Kayden?” She looked at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

“Chapter twenty, um, ma’am. At my old school, I believe we started a little bit before you guys’. My teacher let me have this copy; he said that I may need it for when I start school here.”

“So you would have no trouble discussing chapters ten and eleven with partners?”

“No.” He shrugged.

“Okay,” she said and nodded, “very well. Everyone, please get to work.”

We all did as we were told.

Minutes had passed and I peeked up from my book and looked over at Kayden. His eyes were glued to his own book—paying no attention to Sally Jenkins, who was eyeing him like how I would eye bacon, and I suddenly had the urge to giggle at Kayden’s obliviousness. Though I held it in and proceeded to read my book.

Maybe he wasn’t an arrogant ass, after all . . .

 My stomach grumbled as I got a whiff of the grease-covered, mouth-watering pizza that had just, at least from what I thought, been took out of the oven. It was lunch time and I was starving. My taste buds were craving to have a taste of that calorie-filled snack.

Most teenage girls—at least the ones I know—would be scrunching up their nose in disgust if they ever saw me pick up a piece of pizza, except for Linda. She never cared much about gaining weight and, frankly, she would probably never have to. Linda was a very petite girl with a high-metabolism. Jessie and I, on the other hand, didn’t. I occasionally tried to work out and cut off the junk food—but Jessie stayed on a diet, which could be one of the reasons why I was a size or two larger than her in pants. I wasn’t exactly what you would call fat or big or chunky, just… average, I guess.

I entered the somewhat packed cafeteria, and the odor of the pizza became stronger. I slid by others as I walked towards the line. The band of people slowly proceeded, and I filled my tray up with a piece of pizza, a small bag of French fries, an apple, and a Pepsi can. After paying, I gathered my tray in my hands and looked for Jessie, Linda, and Mike.

As usual, though, they were seated near the far left side of the cafeteria—our signature table. I pushed passed others as I made my way towards them. Abruptly, a soft yet loud voice rang through my ears.

“Elyse!”

I looked back and saw that it was Lela that called my name, and I then remembered that I had asked her if she wanted to sit with Mike, Jessie, Linda, and I for lunch.

I was about to reply, when the bottom of my shoe met with a bulky object, and I felt myself falling over and into a sturdy chest. My eyes widened as the contents on my tray hit the black t-shirt that belonged to the person that I bumped into and smeared it. A small squeal escaped my lips as my tray fell and I clung to the fabric of the shirt, preventing me from falling to the ground by myself. Soon, both of us were on the floor—me on top of Kayden Maxwell, and Kayden Maxwell under me.

But his body wasn’t the only thing that was under me, and I wasn’t thing that was on top of him. Our lips were smashed together—but our mouths weren’t exactly positioned in a kiss. No, not at all. And it was most definitely not passionate or romantic.