Chapter Nine

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The school bell rang and the class was dismissed. As I was leaving the classroom, I could feel Mrs. Drighton's eyes watching me.

"Jay," she called after me before I was out the door. I turned to face her so she would think that I'm listening to her. I saw her mouth moved, but my thoughts were already elsewhere.

I couldn't wait to start reading the book I had purchased yesterday. It was the last book in the trilogy I recently discovered about a group of teenagers who discover a dead body at an abandoned house they broke into. The first book has mysterious things happen to the group as they try to get help from local authorities to investigate the death, then once the cause of death has been ruled an accident, all the drama ceases. The second book is about the apparent murder-suicide of one of the group members family and how it seems to have been covered up by someone, and that death seems to be attached to the death from the first book. Now, the third book is supposed to be about the teens who are still alive avenging the death of their friend, and discovering who covered it up. I think it was the police officer that refused to believe that teens found the body at the abandoned house by accident. He just seems like the kind of person that--

"So Jay," Mrs. Drighton's voice brought me back to reality, "if you do change your mind, just come find myself or Mr. Cobbsworthy, and we'll set you up with it."

"Okay, thanks," I said quickly. I had no intention of wanting to be a tutor, and I didn't see how any of them thought I would be a good one. I barely showed up to class most of the time, so why would they think I would show up to a tutoring session? "Oh well," I shrugged, "guess I should just worry about making it to my next class on time before I get another detention."

I made my way to my locker for the second time today so I could grab my English books, and as I neared it, I saw that new girl -- Samantha -- getting books out of a locker near mine. I tried not to pay any attention to her as I opened my locker and swapped my books out, but as I was about to close my locker and leave, she dropped her binder and all her papers flew out everywhere.

When I saw her eyes go big and it looked like she was on the verge of tears, I knew I couldn't just walk away. "Here," I placed my books on the ground and begun to gather her papers, "let me get those for you."

"Oh, umm..." Samantha stammered some noises out, then began to collect some papers herself. "Thank you," she told me once we collected the last of her sheets, "it's Jay, right?"

I nodded my head and grabbed my books, "not a problem." And with that, I disappeared into the crowd of students hurrying on their way to class.

I didn't want to befriend the new girl. I didn't want to befriend anyone. I wasn't the kind of kid who befriended people. At least, not anymore. My mother's death had changed me in that way. I no longer want to get close to anyone, I mean, why would I? One day they're going to get up and go and leave me behind, so what's the point? I used to have friends when my mother was alive, but after her death, I pretty much avoided them until they stopped trying to hangout with me, or I would start fights with them until we weren't allowed to hangout anymore. It didn't bother me. I felt better knowing that I didn't have to rely on anyone for anything, because in the end, they just left. And I don't want anymore of that. So this girl, Samantha, as much as she may try, if she does, she will not become my friend. I will not let it happen.

Samantha was not to be my friend. That was the plan. But as she sat down next to me in English, and I saw her schedule contain both the same first and second semester, I realized that avoiding her would not be as easy as it seemed. And her beauty and friendliness seemed somewhat entrancing.

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