Almost Friends

Chapter 5- Elizabeth

Chapter Five

Elizabeth

With Friends like These...

Mia: Save me a seat nx to u

E: K

I hit send, slip my phone into my purse, and set it on the chair of the empty desk beside mine. My new bracelets clang, creating a tiny symphony every time I move my hand. Mom and Dad gave them to me this morning before school.

I have no idea how Mom had the energy after coming home at 2 AM to get up at 6 and make waffles for us. But she did and she started getting all teary-eyed talking about how proud of me she is for making it this far.

It made me feel good to hear all of that, so good in fact that I pushed my suspicions aside when Dad handed me a jewelry box and said, "This is from both of us."

Now, as I look down at the pretty silver bangles I can't help but think more logically.

How can my parents suddenly afford for me to cheer and dance and get me jewelry like this? Dad's definitely back to his old ways.

"All right, guys." Our new English teacher's voice pulls me from my thoughts and I look up. Standing at the front of our classroom, our teacher is a very tall and extremely pale woman with huge, frizzy red hair. At first glance she seems familiar. And then I realize she's our school's librarian, Ms. Mallory.

Ms. Mallory closes the classroom door and turns to us with a hesitant smile. "I'm Ms. Mallory and you probably recognize me from the library. Due to some budget issues, I'll be taking over as the senior class English instructor. So ... uh, let's make this a fun year, eh?"

She indulges in an awkward little fist pump and I snort, folding my arms as I shake my head.

A few of my classmates follow my lead and Ms. Mallory's gaze goes to me before she glances at the other hecklers. A twinge of anxiety appears in her eyes and then her entire face falls. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable.

That was mean. And honestly, if I had to teach these snotty Swamp Rose kids I'd be nervous too.

"Okay then, uh ..." Ms. Mallory tucks her hair behind her ear and nearly trips over her flat, orthopedic shoes as she heads to her podium. "Let's start by taking roll. Can someone from each row come pass out textbooks, please?"

She points to several stacks of textbooks behind her and I decide to snuff out my guilt by helping. Standing, I tug at my leather jacket and saunter to the textbooks.

"I like your bracelets," a familiar voice to my right says.

I glance back and Samantha Pianciano is seated in the very first seat in my row. She's one of those kids who does that in every class, gets there early and grabs a seat on the first row.

"Thanks," I say, my gaze going to her dark, curly hair. Last year her hair was always a mess.. But today each curl is defined and actually very pretty. "Your hair's cute," I offer.

Her grin widens and she sits up a little straighter in her seat. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Hang out with Mia and Kyle and SLH kids will treat you like a god; your every compliment becomes some kind of an answer to their prayers for popularity. If they only knew how little I have in common with Mia and Kyle. Kyle's family owns several fast food restaurants; I work in a fast food restaurant.

I grab some English textbooks and begin passing them out when the classroom door swings open. Mia flounces into the room, pouting like she's just tasted the world's most bitter grapefruit.