**Three months earlier**
"Can anyone tell me the answer to question number fourteen?" Nobody raised their hands to answer Mrs. Philips, as usual. We were all either too bored, too stupid, or too lazy to bother with answering her questions. "C'mon Gracie, you know this," Ian whispered in my ear as Mrs. Philips waited for an answer.
"How can you be so sure?"
"You haven't gotten anything less than an A+ in math since the 5th grade," he whispered back, and I smiled.
If anyone could remember anything about me that far back, it was Ian. I had known him since preschool; he was one of the few kids in my school who I could stand talking to on a daily basis.
I sighed in defeat and raised my hand. "Yes, Ms. Roberts?" Mrs. Philips said eagerly.
"One hundred twenty four."
"Correct! Now, can any of you take us through the steps for that problem?"
While our class endured another awkward pause, I looked over at Ian. He flashed me a crooked smile that seemed to scream "I told you so." Ian hadn't changed much since our sophomore year; his bleached blond hair still stuck up in every direction, and he still had those kind, forgiving brown eyes that would make most girls melt. Best of all, even after so many years of friendship he could still always make me smile, even on my worst days.
In my daze I didn't hear the bell ring, but the frantic scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet was signal enough. I walked quickly through the halls of Westfield High towards my locker, grimacing at the familiar smell of pencil shavings. Even after spending nearly four years in this place, I still hadn't gotten used to it.
As I grabbed my backpack and books for the night, I glanced up at the news board that was placed awkwardly above my locker. I don't pay attention to any announcements, so the news board was often my lifesaver-- it had sign-up sheets, flyers for social events, and anything else you can imagine pinned to it. I looked up and scanned it for anything new.
It was surprisingly sparse today-- nothing but an old prom poster, a sign-up sheet for robotics club, a few miscellaneous flyers, and a reminder to purchase graduation robes by Tuesday next week.
My stomach sank as I read that one. Graduation was less than three weeks away, and seeing that I had no plans for the future, naturally I wanted to delay it as long as possible. I slammed my locker shut, and turned around to see Marcy grinning at me.
"Looking at the graduation poster, eh? Are you excited yet?"
"Oh please." I rolled my eyes and started walking to our cars, knowing Marcy would follow me. "You know better than anyone how much I am going to abhor graduation."
"I don't believe you. I bet you're gonna be super happy to leave this place," she smiled. Marcy had dirty blonde hair that she straightened everyday, and her concealer was always a shade too dark. She was also eternally optimistic, which made no sense to me since everyone else in her family was an introverted pessimist. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Well, you're right in that respect; I'm done with high school, along with almost everyone in it."
"See? You're just lying to yourself. It's gonna be great."
YOU ARE READING
How to Keep a Secret
Romance"I know your type," he said, piercing me with his unwavering gaze, as if daring me to contradict him. "My type?" "You don't know where you're going, or what you want to do with your life. And yet you have such potential," he said, suddenly leaning f...
