That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Seven:

When we step foot back onto the school campus, we are met with the chaos of the late-bell. Students zip around the campus like a swarm of fruit flies. Carl leaps in front of me, crouched and his arms spread wide. "I'll protect you!" he shouts valiantly. 

I sigh and watch him get run over by a pack of beefy (and very sweaty) football players marching toward gym class. I glance at Miley, "Do you know where my next class is?" 

She squints --staring off into space as if she were sorting through her memory. Then she holds out a hand and I smile as I relinquish my schedule to her. Her eyes flit over the flimsy paper before her lips break out into a happy grin. She hands my schedule back, "I knew it. I just had to be sure. You have chemistry." 

I quirk a brow, "In what direction?"

"That way," she points across the courtyard and I cringe, as I'll have to fight my way through the mass of students. I go to sigh again --the air already blistering inside my lungs and ready to be exhaled --but Devon loops his arm through mine. I give him a weird look.

Why is he touching me? He can admire all he wants, but touching is a totally different story. 

"Come on. I have chemistry this hour too, and all the classrooms are grouped together in the same building. What teacher do you have?" he pushes his way through the crowd with his shoulder, and I burrow closer to his side so I can use him as a shield.

My eyes skim over my schedule, "Um, Mrs. Sanders?"

Devon beams. "I have her too. She's a lot of fun, you'll like her. She doesn't believe in packets, so we get to do a lot of experiments without all the boring work." 

I smile sheepishly, "I like her already." 

He nods. Several people bustle past and Devon yanks me out of the way before I can get trampled. I glare at the idiots who'd passed us and, in true New Yorker fashion (even though I'm not from New York), shout mean words and borderline threats at them while Devon whisks me away into the science building. "You've got a bit of a temper," he comments. 

I grumble incoherently. 

"I like it though," he continues, a blush tickling his cheeks pink. I inwardly groan and shoot him a look that says: Keep it in your pants. He looks away from me and then pulls me to a stop in front of a door. "This is is! Ready?"

The door pushes open and I step back to avoid getting smacked with it. A plump woman steps out, her brown eyes wide behind thick black glasses. Her bright red lips pull back into a grin and her eyes crinkle around the corners. "You must be Alice!" 

"Hey, Mrs. Sanders," Devon greets the older woman cheerfully. 

Mrs. Sanders squints up at him. "Devon!" she smiles widely again when she realizes said boy is the one talking to her, "Good to see you, sweetie. How was your weekend?" 

"Pretty good."

Devon walks into the classroom then, abandoning me with Mrs. Sanders. She kind of reminds me of an old witch; she looked like someone who would sit inside a house made of candy while she waited for her hungry prey to approach. She glanced me over once and brushed a wispy strand of silver behind her ear. "It's nice to meet you dear. Have you taken any chemistry courses prior to this one?" 

 I shake my head, not sure how to answer. I always thought that chemistry didn't need any precursor classes --at least that was the way it was back in my old school.

Mrs. Sanders laughs at me and squeezes my shoulder, "That's quite alright! We'll get you caught up in no time!"

"Thanks," I say uncertainly, laughing a bit awkwardly back. She steers me into the room and across the front; I almost get cornered by a black top counter stretched across the length of the room as we pass. We end up at a desk that's pushed against the wall and half hidden by a bookshelf. Mrs. Sanders releases me and snatches a textbook from the top of it. She holds it out for me to take. I thank her and hug it to my chest.