The Hottie Next Door

Chapter 9: Quick Thinking

Chapter 9

Thinking about it, I realized today hadn't been that bad. It could've been worse—full of tears and drama—but I really think my quick thinking worked out for the long term. I stared at the purple ceiling above me as I laid in bed, a small cushion tucked in my arm.

I sighed.

I shut my eyes and wished for tomorrow to bring peace and people who would just leave me alone.

12 HOURS AGO...

"MUM! I'M GOING TO BE LATE!" I shouted from the entrance door, shaking my head as I started counting to 30. Right, I'm definitely leaving if she doesn't show up in these 30 seconds.

"No! You can't leave just yet. You need to eat. Wait a second, I'm coming!" she shouted from the kitchen.

Urgh! This seriously can't be happening. My hair was a mess today, so I threw on a baseball cap, and I couldn't find my earphones, so that meant no music. I cursed myself under my breath.

If I was late, I'd get a month of detention.

It wasn't the detention that bothered me—it was the person who would be giving out those detentions...

Just then, a figure swooped past me, dropped a sandwich in my hand, and pushed me out the door. I buckled and muttered, "Thanks for the warning, Mum!"

"Sorry, sweetheart, you're going to be late, so run!" At that point, I was so close to saying "no shit, Sherlock," but I held it in and power-walked to school.

When I arrived at school, I found my locker. Yes! Surprisingly, many people were still in the corridors, not in registration, so maybe I'd get away with this.

I didn't see that pest—the one who usually patrols the halls looking for me or anyone else who's late. I shoved my books into my bag, shut my locker, and quickly walked with my head down, smiling. I thought, I won't be seen today.

I was wrong.

"EMMA CLARKE, COME TO THE OFFICE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE PLEASE," blared over the speakers.

I froze, wincing. Looks like I'm getting detention after all. How did they know I was late?

I power-walked to the office, took off my cap, and greeted the receptionist.

I knocked on the principal's office door. A deep voice called, "Come in." I took a deep breath, wondering what mess I was in now.

The principal's office was a plain room with dark, burnt brown wood flooring that was constantly polished. A large carved desk sat in the middle, with an Aztec-patterned rug underneath. Next to the desk was a whole wall of books that gave me a headache just by looking at them for too long. Opposite the desk were padded chairs.

I opened the door to see a boy in a leather jacket, ribbed jeans, and Timberlands, with a familiar, annoying face I didn't think I'd ever forget.

Oh my Lord! I wished I'd faked being sick and stayed home instead of coming here. I greeted the principal and sat next to the boy, who was staring at me with a smug look on his face. I really wanted to kick him.

"How's your ankle?" he whispered.

"Is that something you're always going to say to me?" I shot back, considering my ankle had been perfectly fine for the past few days.

Before he could reply, I glanced at the principal, who was typing something on his computer. I waited patiently for him to say something, but he just kept typing.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm wondering why you called me here. I have a class, so if it's not important, I can come back at break."

He coughed loudly, giving me his full attention before printing out a paper sheet.