The Wallflower Effect

Chapter 11: New And Improved.

Now that I had found a purpose, I found it easy to not only ignore people's stares and whispers at me, the outcast freak who found a dead body. I confidently raised my chin and promised myself that I would stop being a damsel in distress and find out how I could stop this maniac stalking me, or help the police do it. But not only that, I had regained something I hadn't had for a few days; My awe-inspiringly inappropriate sarcasm. My wit, my defense and my coping mechanism. The craziness of the past few days had taken my signature sass, and I didn't realize how exposed I felt without it.

I was new again. New and improved.

As I strutted- you heard me, I strutted, away from Eathan and Gage, both of them wondering what the hell had changed, I'm sure, for the first time in forever, I flashed a mischievous devil-may-care grin at the crowd that parted before me. Much to the dismay of a few cheerleaders I recognized from Mr. Whitley's class. The three of them, Jessica, Morgan, and Giselle, if I remembered correctly, looked at me accusingly. As if I had committed a crime by daring to look at them and grin.I remembered them now. I referred to as the three Harpies. They'd bullied me before I was confident and mean. I hated them.So as I passed them, heading to English which I had with them, I grinned wider.

Yep, I was back.

*7:25, Mr. Whitley's Class.*

It was five minutes to the bell, and just about everyone was in class already. Gage, who had this calss with me,  was only a few seconds behind, tried to make eye contact with me, but I was super pissed about that little scene he made in the hallway, and in true scorning female fashion, I decided I was going to shun him for a while. He sat a few seats behind me to the right. I could feel his eyes on my back, but tuned it out in favor of getting out my textbooks, pencil, and notebook for the torture they called school that was about to ensue.

I smiled, knowing not even boring old Mr. Whitley with his Grammar Nazi killjoy attitude and freaky deep interpretations of seemingly inane details of classical literature could bring me down.

"Look. It's the goth freak." Giselle Watson, flanked by Jessica O'Brian and Morgan Steel, sneered at me. Giselle, the olive skinned, tall-dark-and-bitchy cheerleader who happened to be best friends with Adira Scott. Or was. I swallowed. Then smirked, right after, as to not show weakness.

"Look, it's the anorexic bitch-squad! Couldn't face me without your barbie sidekicks, Giselle?" I said sweetly, batting my eyes at them. Giselle clenched her fists, putting them on her skinny hips, and shot daggers from her eyes at me.

"No. I just wanted an audience." Giselle replied, smugly.

"Oh, for what? The goth freak knocking your very last IQ points out of you?" I giggled, getting up from my seat, and right up in her face. For the first time, she actually looked nervous. I may have a bit of a reputation, I guessed.

"No, for me telling you this," Giselle began, regaining her confidence. "Adira was popular, beautiful, and she had a life, unlike you. She had a team she led. You have none of that. She didn't deserve to die. But you do, you psycho freak." Wow, people telling me that I was worthless and should go kill myself. Hadn't heard that before.

"So, what? Are you here to tell me that Adira was a goddess, and that guys would give anything to sleep with her? Are you trying to tell me I should die? Honey, I've heard that all before." I snorted, sitting back in my seat.

"Actually, we have something more than that to tell you." Morgan, with her short dyed blonde hair and sky blue eyes, hinted.

"Yeah, we do." Jessica spoke, joining in on the party.

I gasped exaggeratedly. "What, that your favorite eyeliner is on sale? OMG, you all  should totally buy more. It compliments your whore hair and pre-schooler make up!"

"No. We're here to say that you may not be dead, but you're going to wish you were. We're going to make your life hell, till we find out what really happened last night." Giselle hissed, quietly enough so that only the two of us could her her threats. Something in her eyes made me actually afraid of her. It was a look that said, 'try me.' I know that look, because I saw it in the mirror almost every day. That was the look of a fighter. 

The bell rang, startling me, the cheerleaders, and all the people I hadn't cared were watching.

"Newsflash, my life already is hell. Some leaping sluts aren't going to change that. Good luck with your little crusade." I waved at them. Giselle and her lackeys got angry, but knowing that Mr. Whitley would be here soon, left out the door without a word, swishing their hips as they did. The whole exchange left me with a bad feeling. Not because of the three Harpies, but because of what Giselle had said.

'What really happened.'

Something in the way she had said made me think she knew something. But what could possibly make her think that I had anything to do with Adira or her death? Why did she think something more was going on? What did she know that made her look at me like I was the devil himself? I shook my head, vainly trying to clear my brain. This whole thing frustrated me. I got one answer, I got a hundred more questions to go with it.

I looked behind me, at Gage, seeing how he had took that little run-in with the cheerleaders. His brown eyes and hair, and something about the way he carried himself, made my heart respond with it's usual longing at his familiar face. He looked at me with concern.

'Are you okay?' He mouthed.

I smiled bitterly. Even though we were fighting and I was sort of with Eathan, he was still a gentleman. He was still my best friend in the whole world. Despite my promise to myself, I still loved him. And I still couldn't lie to him, even though I was going to keep my newest decision about my psycho to myself.

'No.' I answered my best friend, my face probably betraying my agony against my will. He open his mouth, but just as he was about to say something, Mr.  Whitley walked in.Pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his large nose, he stroked his beard and set his briefcase on his desk, following his usual routine.

"I hope you all read that chapter, because we have a pop quiz on the architecture of the time period of Romeo and Juliet and how that was relevant to the play right now." Whitley informed us. If the groans of half-awake students around me were any indication, most of them hadn't read it.

I locked eyes with Gage once again. They were still looking at me with concern. He knew me too well. He sensed that I was hurt, and even though we were fighting, he was being a total gentleman about it, and worried about me anyways. Gage was sweet like that. It was going to be hard for me. I knew that finding whoever was killing in my name was going to be hard, so I wanted Gage as far away from me as possible. At least until he was caught. How I felt about Gage was just going to distract me. I could only deal with one boy at the moment, and Eathan had already claimed that position, weather he knew it or not. So I just couldn't. For his safety and my sanity.

Painful as it was to tear my eyes away from him, I forced myself to turn around, and I didn't look at him for the rest of the class.

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Hey guys. Even though I have school and stuff, I still do try to update as much as I can. This chapter wasn't all that eventful, but I have something planned for my next one. I'll try to update soon. Comments, votes, fans and all that jazz.

~Mage