Trophy Daughter

Chapter 8- Homostasis

Title not a spelling misteak. 

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Homeostasis is the maintenance of a stable internal environment in response to any stimulus that may disturb its normal range of conditions. Now, i'm not just teaching you a lesson about biolo-cry, rather, I'm creating an analogy for my life right now. 

I am the organism- the beautiful, intelligent organism that you all love- and the stimulus? You guessed it, Dumas. Right now, even though that disruption had came in and shaken up my life- especially with his buddy buddy relationship with my parents- I was going to engage in homeostasis to get my life running back in its normal way. 

Finish high school, get my applied mathematics degree, and hopefully, keep my cars. 

But since Dumas was involved, the process was now named Homostasis. Cause I disliked the fucker. Usually. 

"How was your date with my brother?" Belinda murmured slyly, sidling up beside me with a mischievous grin on her pretty face. I rolled my eyes, shutting my locker door. "That was a while ago, why ask now?" 

She shrugged a dainty shoulder. "I don't know. I've accepted the relationship you two have, and would accept it even more if you introduced me to those twin Douglas Booths you were telling me about." 

I barked a laugh, swinging my backpack up and onto my back. Today, I sported a hobo chic kind of look- oily hair covered by a beanie, oversized hoodie I had stolen from Veron, a pair of adidas tights and some scuffs. Belinda looked a right picture though, cut off tee with white tights and strappy wedges. 

You know what they say; This girl is ranch, cause she looked delicious. Or was it something else? 

"I'll give you their numbers in English- I'm their favourite cousin, so they'll talk to you if I put in a good word." 

She raised a brow. "Only if you put in a good word?" 

I flipped my hair, giving her a sultry look. "What can I say? People are drawn to me like maggots to trash." 

Belinda blinked before shaking her head. "That was the most backhanded compliment I have ever heard- and it was a self roast." 

I laughed and slung an arm over her shoulder, guiding us to our class. 

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"This theorem requires a lot of application Circe, I'll give you some extra worksheets to do at home. They will need to be done by Thursday, so you have two days."

I nodded, pulling out my handy dandy notebook and watched as Professor Malin went through a lengthy equation. It was at least two boards long and was deeply algebraic- straining even my own brain. 

It was hard, to put it lightly. But if Malin believed I could do it, why shouldn't I believe in myself? After he had went through the equation, he opened a page in my text book, pointing to it and gesturing to a new equation. 

"Try this one on your own. Ask me questions if necessary."

He said it as a challenge- to see how far I would get and if I could do it completely, by myself. I gave him a wink and began the problem, very slowly but steadily making it through the pages work. 

Another hour later, I had finished the equation- ten minutes of the time was me just banging my head on the desk while Professor Malin watched me with wide eyes. He obviously didn't know that I was trying to turn on the mush that was my brain, and actually gave a sigh of relief when I started working on the problem again. 

And, when I gave him the sheets of paper with my chicken scratch writing on it- the beam that brightened his face made me more than proud. 

"When are you going to tell your parents that you are a genius?" 

Way to kill a mood, Malin. I shrugged, packing my books. "When they stop being obsessed with their image."

Malin gave me a sideways look. "That's not going to happen anytime soon, girl."

"I know. I don't mind."

He shook his salt and pepper head, filing away my working for later review. "Wasted talent Circe, wasted talent."

"How am I wasting it? I'm coming here, aren't I?" To be honest, him saying that hurt more than I would admit. 

"You could be doing so much more- be learning so much more if your parents knew. You could be at Harvard, Princeton or something of the like instead of going through the motions with an outdated mathematics professor like me."

"You're not outdated. And I don't want to go to big, flashy schools. I'm happy with what I have here."

Professor Malin gave me a sad look, weathered face showing as I walked to the door. "That's the point. You shouldn't be."

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His statement circled in my mind for the rest of the week. Was I being complacent? I was sure I had plans beyond this town, so sure of it I couldn't remember any one of them. 

I growled lowly, annoyed at myself and walked into maths, settling into my seat at the back of the class. Time for a good lesson, where I had to pretend I had an average intellect. Sometimes, just some crazy times, I wanted to be real. Forget about the image my parents wanted and just do normal work in class. 

It was a chore to always be stupid. 

My phone buzzed, and Vincent's name popped up on the screen. 

Heya cupcake, want to go for a drive tonight? 

Would I?

Only if you buy KFC and I can wear sweatpants.

His reply was nearly immediate, buzzing a few moments later. Who couldn't like a boy who replied so soon? 

Wear another tracksuit. It really turns me on ;)

I laughed out loud, thumbs moving at the speed of light across the screen. 

Can you dress like a hobo? You have your kinks and I have mine- mine just involve smelling like you haven't showered in weeks and have gross facial hair. 

The teacher walked in with Dumb-ass behind her, and his emerald gaze immediately came to mine. 

Whatever you want cupcake. We can double on a bike that I stole from the shop down the street. 

Dumas came and sat in the seat next to mine, obviously not adhering to the eye daggers I was sending his way. He gave me a pretty grin, winking when I scowled. 

Say it again, I love it when you talk dirty. 

Later on, I would look back at this phone conversation and wonder just how fucked in the head I was.

Mud, dirt, Donald Trump's spray tan, my mind when I think about the way you looked the other night. 

Hooo damn, this boy knew how to charm. 

C-Pick me up at 7? I'll text you my address later. 

V- Sure. Can't wait :) 

I slipped my phone into my bag and pulled out a pencil, stupid smile on my face. A foot kicked my shin and I swore quietly, looking over the pretty faced freak who suddenly thought it was a good idea to abuse me. 

"Who was that?" Dumas gestured to the phone now in my bag, and I frowned. 

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't. I just want to know if a guy is stupid enough to try get with you." 

To be honest, that hurt, but I shrugged it off with an air of indifference. "I could say that about half the girls that fucked your conceited ass, but do you see me throwing that in your face? No. So shut up, mind your own business, and think about your next lay that only has enough brain cells available to fuck whatever has something shaped like a dick."

I pulled out a napkin from my bag, leftover from the mcdonald's I had for lunch. I handed it to him, smiling as his gobsmacked face turned to an adorable confusion. 

"What's this for?"

"Because you just got served." 

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Soz late update.