Playing The Player

:Chapter Three:

I shuffled in my seat uncomfortably, trying to ignore stares that were burning through the back of my head. Their newfound attention was most likely caused by Blake, who was sitting casually next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair. We were seated in the front row, my genius plan that he would not follow me here failing miserably. Apparently he would risk his 'badass' reputation just to annoy me.

I contemplated moving to a different seat, but I was just coming to the conclusion that he would follow me anyway when Mr O'Conner strode into the room, a bright smile on his face with a leather briefcase in the other; he had our exam results.

As if it was scripted, the class groaned in unison, which didn't do much, except maybe brightened Mr O'Conner's grin. He was the type of teacher who took pleasure in making students' lives miserable; a teacher sadist. The grin was a bad sign, if anything; it meant that there were a number of terrible results.

"These papers are ranked from the lowest to the highest. For those idiots who are obviously just as bad at Maths as English, it means that the last name I call out will be the person with the best results, and the first name I call will be the shameful person who received the lowest score." He looked around the room, and though his voiced conveyed disappointment, his face was anything but.

"Avery Madison... Nicholas Black..." He continued to read out the names on the papers, Blake's name being called somewhere near the middle.

He didn't seem phased with his 81%, just letting it sit happily on his table. How did he keep so calm and collected? The last time I had received a mark under 97%, I had locked myself in my room an entire weekend, re-reading the Maths textbook over and over again, only coming out for the bathroom and a bottle of water.

There were only two papers left in Mr O'Conner's hand; either I had gotten the top mark, or Clarissa Jenkins, a tiny red-head who didn't talk to anyone outside her group of friends. I leaned for unconsciously, hoping my name would not get called out next. Out of the corner of my eye, I registered Blake with an amused smile on his face.

"... Clarissa Jenkins.... And with full marks, Hayleigh Grace."

He passed me my paper, though his face was full of annoyance. "Good work," was the reply I got.

I smiled giddily when I saw the 100/100 scrawled in red ink on the first page of the test.

As Mr O'Conner strode back to the front and started lecturing the class about how you had received under 95%, you should've been terribly ashamed and embarrassed by yourself, Blake inched his chair closer to mine. "So you're like one of those smart chicks, huh?"

I frowned, listening to Mr O'Conner even though he had said if you received higher than 95% you didn't need to listen. "Shh."

"You know, I like blondes." He tugged at my ponytail.

I pulled it out of his grasp, ignoring the tingle that ran up my finger when it nudged his. "Be quiet."

"I also like smart chicks." He picked up my test paper and flipped the first page, though his eyes were still on my face.

I reached over and snatched the paper from him. "Listen to the teacher."

"Why should I?"

"Because," I said quietly, turning to face him, "You got under 95% and he said that if you got under that then you should listen to him."

"What, so he can tell me how shit I am at Maths and how pathetic and useless and fu-" He was cut off.

"HAYLEIGH GRACE!!"

I looked up, startled. "Yes, sir?"

"I will not have people interrupt me while I'm talking," Mr O'Conner ranted.

I lowered my eyes. "Sorry."

"Deten-"

"Hayleigh wasn't talking, I was," Blake suddenly said.

I stared at him. Was he crazy? There was no need for both of us to go to detention! "No he wasn't," I said quickly. It was the first time in my high school life I had actually gotten in trouble, and here I was, practically inviting it.

"Detention! For both of you!" Mr O'Conner finally raged, wringing his hands up.

I didn't look at Blake or Mr O'Conner for the remainder of the lesson, my eyes focused on my work, and when the bell finally rang, I leapt up and made a beeline for the door.

"Hey," Blake caught up to me and held my arm. "You're not mad, are you?"

I didn't look at him, keeping my eyes focused on the green and white tiled floor. "Of course not," I said, aiming for a neutral voice.

He looked uncertainly at me. "Okay. So, can I get your number?"

I didn't know what it was exactly that made me raise my head and meet his eyes. It might've had sometime to do with the fact that I had a detention; something I had avoided like the plague in my whole high school life. Perhaps it was the adrenaline that was pumping inside my veins that gave me the strength to look up. Maybe it was the fact that I, Hayleigh Grace, had yelled at the teacher?

But the truth was, I was angry. Angry at myself, mainly. Because I had thought, no, more like had the slightest hope that Blake might even have the tiniest inkling of interest in me. No, it wasn't even an inkling. It was more like the tiniest, tiniest seed of interest you could ever have, and yeah, it might've taken ages to grow, but it was a start.

But at the simple question he asked, I realised pretty quickly what he was after. Because it wasn't like it was the first time something like this had happened.

"You think this is funny? You think you're so smart?" I asked, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He looked confused. "What?"

"Because I really don't," I started, shaking my head, "I really, really don't think it is. What, so you can call me in the hope that Nina picks up? It's pathetic."

"Nina? What does she have to do with anything?" Blake asked, cocking his head on one side.

I wasn't fooled.

"I don't know, everything? The reason why you're asking me for my number? Get close to me so you can get close with her? It's just sad." My voice was beginning to crack.

"I'm not - I mean, I'm not trying to get her number - "

I interrupted him. "It's even more pathetic that you're still pretending. You're acting as if I don't know anything. Which, in your books, I probably
don't. But it's not like this is the first time it happened, and yeah, I might not have great people skills, but I learn from my mistakes, and after all those guys who used me to get to Nina, I've learnt my lesson, Blake." I nodded, reaching inside my bag and surreptitiously wiped my eyes in the process. I pulled out a Sharpie and scrawled Nina's number on his arm, ignoring the dumbfounded look on his face.

"There," I said finally, tossing the pen back into my bag and looking at the number on his arm, "You have her number. You can leave me alone now."

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