Reversing Roles

Chapter 3

Grayson strode into East High, once again clasping his History textbook protectively in both his large hands. He wanted to grasp every spare minute he got, and use it as study time. The bet against Joey had gotten serious; the loser paid the winner $10. Yep, nerds alright.

He navigated his way through the hallways, passed gossiping groups of girls, who whispered about every passer-by, passed big groups of air-headed jocks (so stereotypical, I know) who shamelessly called him names as he glided by them, especially the biggest dickhead of them all, Josh Mason, like 'nerd', 'dork' and 'geek', and passed other teens just like himself; shy, with no social status and who didn't mind flying under the radar.

Grayson finally arrived at his old, rusted locker, which was in desperate need of a new paint job, where Joey was already smugly waiting for him, leaning up against it with his arms folded and one leg against the locker, too, like a total badass. When he spotted Grayson, he straightened his back and flashed a cocky smirk in his direction, showing off the fact that he, too, was cradling his History textbook.

"Morning, Vega," Grayson greeted, coolly, lightly shoving Joey out of the way, unlocking the tricky lock and flinging open the small, metal door. The scent of peppermint wafted out, thanks to the half empty packet of gum sitting patiently on the top shelf.

"Got that tenner ready, Mendes? Because you're going down," Joey stated, his smirk dissolving into a triumphant smile. Grayson rolled his eyes.

"Maybe I should ask you the same thing?" Suddenly, the bell pierced the air, along with everyone else's ear drums. Grayson winced slightly, then glanced back up at Joey. For him, first period was Maths, and for Joey, it was English. For second period, they'd both meet up again for Science. Then, third period was History. The famous History class. Grayson couldn't wait.

~~~

"Everyone, pull out your algebra textbooks, and flip to page 143," Mr. Clove instructed, from the front of the classroom. Their mathematics teacher, Mr. Arnold Clove, was a tall, middle-aged man who always smelt of tobacco and pine trees, who wore a unique new tie to school everyday and who constantly hummed an old Beatles song, in between explaining activities and handing out tests. Half the class groaned at his simple instruction, but Grayson happily pulled it from his striped backpack and dropped it onto his desk, with a thump, turning to the correct page. As he peered down at the first equation through his glasses, the answer already flowing through his mind, he heard the classroom's door open swiftly, and Principal Boomer stepping into view.

"Principal Boomer, how can I help you?" Mr. Clove asked, staring at the principal over his large, old-fashioned spectacles.

The whole class rapidly turned their heads towards the front of the room, where Principal Boomer stood, intimidatingly, with a girl standing beside him, rubbing her forearm, anxiously. Grayson's chocolate-y eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. She was gorgeous. Her Converse looked cool and retro. Her tee was cool and retro. Her skinny jeans were cool and retro. This mysterious new girl already had a cool and retro aura floating around her, and she's only stepped into the classroom about thirty seconds ago. The thing that caught  Grayson's attention first, though, was the single pink streak in her midnight hair.

She suddenly straightened up, annoyedly cleared her throat and blew at her hair, now giving off a sort of, edgy, bad girl vibe. She whipped out her iPhone. She looked like she didn't have a single care in the world. She looked like she didn't even notice the thirty pairs of eyes staring straight at her, trying to figure her out. She just stood out the front, chewing a piece of gum, her eyes glued to her phone's bright screen, which illuminated her face, looking bored as hell. Grayson found himself smiling. He didn't understand why, though.

"Class, I'd like to present our new student, Alyssa King," Principal Boomer boomed. A flurry of whispers exploded around the classroom instantly, but Alyssa looked unfazed. Grayson's eyes stayed glued to her, though, examining her. Not in a creepy, stalker-ish kind of way, but in an intrigued kind of way. To him, people-watching and observing was interesting. She just seemed so mysterious. Even though most people probably thought they already had her figured out (the moody, tough girl who doesn't give a fuck), Grayson felt like there was more to her. A lot more.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alyssa. I'm Mr. Clove, and I'll be your Maths teacher for the year," Mr. Clove said, stretching out his hand for her to shake it. Alyssa took one look at his pruned hand, and turned her head away.

"Mm hm," she mumbled. Mr. Clove frowned, but before he could protest, Principal Boomer quickly slipped out the door, murmuring a goodbye. The class snickered.

"Uh.... okay," Mr. Clove stammered. "Alyssa, can you please take a seat over by the window, next to Grayson?" Grayson's eyes widened completely at the sound of his own name, and the class averted their attention to him, including Alyssa. Grayson and Alyssa locked eyes for a moment, and instead of stiffening, Alyssa seemed to soften, just the slightest bit. Grayson worked up a small smile and waved his hand breezily. She tilted her head softly, then quickly, her bad girl persona returned. She strutted across the room, over to the window, and planted herself next to Grayson, dropping her uselessly small backpack on the desk with a thud.

"Hey, cutie. Hit me up," Josh, the cockiest basketball player in the school, called to Alyssa from the back of the room. The class chuckled, and Grayson saw Alyssa shoot him an icy glare and with a perfectly manicured middle finger, flip him off. He found himself smiling again, still unsure as to why.