The Girl in the Boys' Dorms

Chapter Twenty-Five: Only idiots get stuck in love triangles.

The Girl in the Boys' Dorms - Chapter Twenty-Five: Only idiots get stuck in love triangles.

My head pounded with what Chase had so eloquently labeled as "a bitch of a hangover," as I shuffled to my first period AP Chemistry class. If I had known this would be my condition the next day, I never would have indulged in that fourth shot of pineapple vodka. But then again, by that point, the sensible parts of my brain had already been effectively numbed.

Chase had been ever so kind as to wake me up with his blaring alarm clock at six a.m. I had apparently fallen asleep in his bed next to him, and the moment his alarm started echoing throughout the entire room, he had leaped to his feet. He was, luckily, very good at holding his liquor, and although he had easily downed more than double of what I had, he was as healthy as he was any other day. Or at least, that was what he told me, but I was sure he had thrown up in the bathroom at some point during the night, because the floor had been hastily wiped clean with detergent and one of his old t-shirts.

"Miss Underwood, would you care to join us?" Mr. Addison drawled lazily as I stumbled in, at least two minutes after the first bell had rung. Glaring at me through his square glasses, he gestured to my usual seat in the front of the room. "Take your seat quickly, please."

"Right, sorry," I nodded, slumping down into the seat tiredly.

I haphazardly pulled my notebook from my bag and dropped it onto my desk, too preoccupied with my crippling headache to understand what Mr. Addison was talking about. He was scribbling a word problem onto the board, fervently explaining something about combustion, and I knew I was supposed to be copying everything he was writing down, but I couldn't manage to even grip my pencil properly.

"Are you okay, Bailey?" Someone whispered from beside me, and I peeked over to see Evan there, a concerned look plastered on his face.

"I'm fine," I snapped, clutching the pencil between my fingers with renewed vigor.

He appeared hurt for half of a second, but recovered quickly, and offered me a weak smile. Leaning back in his own seat, he took to jotting down the notes, and I stole glances at him every so often. There was no hint of remorse or guilt on him. He had been so comfortable with Kendall last night, his arm around her waist, her hand twined possessively on his bicep. The image of the two of them standing in the crowd was branded into my memory; she had been so glamorous, so superior, it was a wonder that Evan had ever dumped her. And that was what made me question him - if he was so eager to see her, if he had been so excited when she called his name, had he actually broken up with her?

Before I could dwell on the matter more, a knock on the door sounded. My cheeks filled with heat when I recognized Mrs. Turner standing there, her thin arms crossed over her chest, her bespectacled eyes boring holes into me. Tacking the shallowest grin I had ever witnessed onto her lips, she faced Mr. Addison, who was still scrawling words onto the blackboard.

"Mr. Addison," she cleared her throat, and he turned to her, obviously having been too caught up in teaching to notice her. Pointing to me, she said, "I need to, ahem, borrow Miss Bailey Underwood for the remainder of the period. She has a meeting scheduled with me for this morning."

Shit. She was right. Principal Dennis had assigned me to two sessions a week with Mrs. Turner for the next month - to, as he had so kindly put it, "explore the tensions" between Evelyn and myself. I was supposed to show up at her office earlier today, but because of the incessant rattling in my brain, I had completely disregarded the letter that had been sent to me after the pageant yesterday. I could picture it clearly now.

Dear Miss Bailey Underwood,

As you were previously notified, you have been given ten days of afterschool detentions with Dr. Colton, and two weekly meetings with your building manager, Mrs. Turner. Your detentions will begin on Monday, but your sessions with Mrs. Turner will start tomorrow. You will meet with her first thing in the morning every Wednesday and Friday for the next month. Please attend these with an open mind, because they will serve to analyze some of your apparently deep-seated psychological problems.