Just A Teasing Book

Part 8: Strict parents make the best liars.

Thursday, August 18, 2016, 9:36 AM

I stroll into social studies with my two binders, three folders, and pencil case and sit at that group with those girls who I tolerate.

Remember them? I just told you about them last chapter! I suggest getting help with that short term memory loss.

Then, much to my displeasure, She Who Must Not Be Named sits at that group too.

Why do I call her She Who Must Not Be Named? I assure you she isn't like Voldemort or anything, but I could argue that she is as evil as him, if not eviller, just, in her own little diva way. Well, she is such a bitch and a backstabber, that my dad has forbidden me from talking to her. I know, he can actually be reasonable at times.

I glance around at the six groups in the classroom. Three groups of four, two groups of three, and one, completely empty. I mentally groan. Mr. Tuber specifically said yesterday to FILL ALL THE GROUPS. Because I'm in a group of four, one of our group members will have to switch to the empty one.

Mr. Tuber walks in right as the bell rings to start the class. He looks around with a grim face after his eyes land on that stupid little empty group.

"Guys..." he starts. Nobody moves. "What did I say yesterday?"

"All groups are to be filled," the class choruses in unison. Okay, maybe not in unison but that makes everything cooler!

"The three groups of four are going to have to figure something out," he bellows in the deep voice he uses to imply we better get our butts moving.

First, a slightly autistic kid moves over to the group. Then, Wilson moves to that group. I did tell you he's in my social studies class. Actually, it's really a history class, so from now on, I'm referring to it as history.

I take a look around at the girls in my group. Nobody will budge. I either, break my dad's law and am forced to talk to She Who Must Not Be Named, or I move my ass over to take a seat across from Wilson.

Well, I'm more scared of my dad than the awkwardness with Wilson.

I sigh and stand up, gathering my supplies from under the desk and smile, acting like Miss Happy McGladpants.

"Fine, guys. I'll be nice," I mock fatigue while walking over to my spot across from Wilson.

"Thank you, Renee. Now when I call out your name, say 'here'," Mr. Tuber begins roll call.

When I sink into my seat, I feel a pair of feet brush against my calf. I look under the desk and shoot a glare at Wilson when I see his feet recoil backwards.

"What? My legs should be able to stretch out!" he groans, sounding exasperated. I roll my eyes. For a split second, I actually consider resting my legs on the empty chair next to me, so Wilson actually can stretch out his legs.

I decide against it when I realize I've already been a cooperative person twice today. I let him keep his knees bent.

For the rest of class, I realize why this group of desks in particular was empty. They are directly next to the air conditioning, making it feel like Antarctica over here.

I'm definitely bringing a sweatshirt tomorrow.

12:25 PM

I sit my lunch bag on the table and sit between Gemma and Jessica. Still struggling with the events of my fourth hour history class, I tell them the whole story, the exact one you just read.

This is where the difference between Jess and Gemma comes out.

"Oh that's just sad," Jess confirms my feelings and gives me one of her both sympathetic and not sympathetic smiles. I am semi grateful for her half sympathy unlike most days when I am not grateful at all.