Chapter 3:
I walked through the crowded cafeteria searching for Claire and Anthony, with Amarys behind me.
"Should we sit here?" Amarys suggested kindly. She pointed at the Popular's currently empty table.
"Maybe..." I began slowly, trying to explain that sitting there would be social suicide. I turned around to face her but she had already gotten seated.
Shocked, I immediately leaned over to warn her, but Anthony had already found me and sat down.
"Wow! The Popular's table? No way Bree!" he said excitedly.
"No!" I tried to explain that we weren't actually sitting here, but then Claire plopped down next to me.
"This'll teach Summer a lesson!" she exclaimed.
"Who's Summer?" Amarys chimed in.
"I...," I tried to calm everyone down, except for that Mike Palmer came and sat right next to Amarys. Mike was a big guy, 6'5, stocky, and almost as popular as Brian and Summer. He also hated the Popular's.
"Hey!" he said to Amarys flashing a grin. "What's your name?"
"Amarys!" she said smiling.
"Wow," he gushed,"You're prettier than Summer!"
As if things couldn't get any more awkward, Summer herself stalked over towards us.
"Well," Mike groaned, "Speak of the devil."
Piper Manilla, Summer's so called best friend (or her little sidekick), flipped her short black hair and shot us all a death glare with her striking green eyes.
"Gross!" she squealed. "Anthony Richardson is sitting in my seat!"
"Excuse me?" Summer said eyeing us all. If looks could kill. "You know this is our table."
"Yah, but now we're sitting at it so run along and cry into your little designer pillow or something." Mike said testily.
Summer looked bewildered and disgusted at the same time.
Another member of the Popular's gang, Carly Brown, piped up, "Seriously Summer, lets find another seat, everyone's staring at us."
She looked around bewildered. Some of the kids were laughing and pointing at her. She flipped her hair and stalked of in her 3 inch leather boots.
"Hah!" Mike laughed and gazed at Amarys. A couple of Mike's friends came over and sat with us, all of their eyes glued on Amarys.
I sat there through all of lunch awkwardly. Surprisingly enough, the thought took a while to come to me. But when it did, it hit me like a bullet.
I cocked my head towards Amarys, and realized that this year of misery would end shortly.
YOU ARE READING
My Almost Best Friend
Teen FictionBree Wilson is you're average junior in high school. She attends Clarkson High, an ordinary school in Portland, Oregon. This school like every other has its own clique, the populars. Bree, along with pretty much every other kid at Clarkson, has been...
