Poison Ivy League

Chapter 7

Chapter Soundtrack

Miss Jackson - Panic! At the Disco

1985 - Bowling for Soup

Some loud noise woke me up.

"Come on Emma. we have class." Leo shook my shoulder, my head pounding from the moment he put his hand on my arm. I groaned and looked up, the room abnormally bright. Everything was a neutral tone, a modern-looking-cleanliness that was something from a magazine. I held my head between my hands and got up. Already I could feel the nausea capturing my stomach. I felt like I had the flu. I knew, though, that in time I would have an iron stomach like I did in high school.

I steadied my head, trying to reduce the headache that was raging in my mind. I swallowed and walked a few steps.

Leo grabbed my outfit and threw it over to me, leading me to a bathroom where I changed. I could smell the shots on my shirt. I would have to go to English with stilettos and a clubbing dress. I gave a sigh and Leo looked over at me. His eyes were muddled, the gold from his inner irises exploding into the blue. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He ran into another room in the giant apartment and came back with a bundle of clothes in his hand. He handed them to me and I looked at them,: a t-shirt and some jeans. I shot him a grateful look and changed again, the clothes a great deal more comfortable.

"Thanks," I said, pulling down the shirt around my waist once I had emerged from the bathroom. The nausea was retreating slowly but surely, though my headache was raging with a brute strength. Leo nodded and we walked out of the apartment, keys dangling in his hand. Those hands adorned with keys brushed mine as we left the hallway and scaled down the stairs.

He opened his car and if got in, my head almost hitting the ceiling. My muscles ached and the car sputtered them roared, causing me to flinch and throw my hands over my ears, my eyes clenching in pain. We lurched forward and Leo put his hand on my arm in an apologetic motion. I nodded that I was okay and we tore away from the apartment, swerving through the avenues and lanes to stop at the class. In the roads there were dozens of cars, kids going to classes everywhere. My other classes still had yet to start, but I was trying to research as much as I could to survive the first year of college. I couldn't afford to fail anything. Literally.

We walked in, Mr. L already taking attendance. Leo and I rushed to our seats while trying to ignore the accusing glances thrown at us. Matt and Shawn snickered and smirked. I heard the word come to my head, through my ears and processed in my brain. I tried to stop myself from hearing it. I hated it. I heard it everyday for an entire year and I wasn't ready to call my therapist again.

Slut.

Yes. Every day for a year.

I almost flinched.

Mr. L didn't pay any attention to anything wrong, including our late attendance, but simply discussed the project and the fact that we had a week and six days now to complete it. I could feel Leo's sigh on my neck as someone threw one thing at him from the back of the class. Every student turned around to discover it wasn't one of their peers, but in fact a guest.

"Hello Miss Jackson. Do you need something?" Mr. L turned his attention to the guest and Leo picked up the lipstick tube that had been chucked at his neck earlier. With a horrified expression on his face as he stared at the tube he got up, against Mr. L's wishes. The teacher motioned for him to sit but he didn't. He simply stared at the auburn hair that cascaded behind her perfect face. She had a strong British accent, a perfectly symmetrical face paired with one of the best choices in clothing I had ever seen. She had a Coach bag draped over her arm with Marc Jacobs glasses that sat atop her prim head. An Armani jacket was draped around her shoulders, concealing whatever other clothing she had on. "Miss Jackson" talked with the professor for a bit and turned around after they came to a consensus.