I slid into my chair, cold seeping through my jeans and making goosebumps spring up on my arms. The bell rang, making my brain rattle painfully inside my head. I sighed as I slowly got out my perpetually unused Geometry notebook and looked over the problems on the board.
The teacher, a squat middle-aged Vietnam vet, walked to the front of the room and gestured to the board behind him. "Today we'll be doing posters on the theorems of triangle congruency." A slight weight lifted off my shoulders. Art was my strong suite, and even though it was Geometry, I was still glad I'd be doing something that didn't want to make me claw my own eyes out.
"And we'll be working with partners, so uh, find yourselves someone to work with."
All my previous relief evaporated like it was never even there. I groaned inwardly. I didn't know anybody in this class, not that I really had any friends except Nancy. Someone tapped my shoulder. It was Steve.
"Do you, uh, wanna work together?" he asked. "Why, so you can let me do all the work?" I retorted spitefully. He frowned at me. "Um, sorry," he said, his voice laced with confusion. I sighed. Maybe I was a little harsh. I pulled out the empty chair next to me. "Sorry."
Steve shrugged. "It's okay. I know how people like me can be." I raised my eyebrows. "Are you implying you're not like them?" He looked surprised that I'd called him out and he turned back to the poster board.
"So, where do we start?" I asked rhetorically, an idea already forming in my mind. "I thought you were gonna do all the work?" Steve reminded me sarcastically. "Go to hell." "Relax," he chuckled softly, picking up a red marker and scribbling our names on the back of the paper in messy handwriting. "It's this thing called a joke. Ever heard of one?" "Yeah, you," I said, trying to keep my voice serious.
"Get to work, Ms. Masterson," the teacher barked in an annoyingly flat voice, and despite my bitter resolve, I smiled.
__
I tried to catch my breath, laughing uncontrollably. I pushed my bangs out of my face as the bell rang. I walked out of the classroom and Nancy held onto my arm with cold hands. "Hi!" We started walking to our next class together, English. "Bye, Lola!"
I turned around and saw Steve waving at me. I waved back uncertainly. Nancy grinned at me. "Don't even start," I said. "This is so crazy," she kept saying. "It's really not. So what, he talked to me. It's not that big of a deal."
I was about to refute her enthusiastic claims of Steve Harrington having a crush on me, but any words I would've said rotted in my throat and made a sour feeling invade my body. Ahead of us, Tommy and Carol were playing tonsil tennis in front of my locker. Tommy opened his eyes and saw me, and an evil smile slowly took over his face.
"Well, if it isn't Zombie Girl and her little angel," he chuckled, slinging his arm around my shoulder. I pushed his arm off of me, my features laced with disgust. "Get lost, Tommy," Nancy said. He made a scared face. "Are you g-gonna make m-me?" I opened my locker, shoved some books in it, and slammed it shit angrily. "You know what? You-" I started, but someone cut me off.
"God, leave them alone, guys," Steve groaned. Tommy slugged his shoulder lightly. "Come on, Stevie boy. It's all in good fun." "Just quit it, man." Tommy rolled his eyes but left us alone, sulking away. Carol followed, popping her gum at Steve as she passed. "You're getting too..." She trailed off. She patted his cheek and looked me and Nancy up and down. "You're getting too soft, Steve." She walked off, leaving behind a cloud of hairspray.
Steve's face hardened. "I don't get why they torment me so much. I mean, it's not like I ever did anything to them." Steve looked behind him where Carol and Tommy were staring him down with smug looks on their faces. "Maybe you should try not to be such an easy target."
I blinked hard. "What?" "You heard me," Steve said flatly, and he walked away toward his friends. I turned to Nancy, my face hot and red. "Yeah, Nance. I'm pretty sure he's in love with me."
Nancy's mouth was open, her expression radiating shock. "That was so rude! How could he-" "Have you met his kind? Rich kids don't care about the people below them." I sighed, leaning my forehead against the cold metal door of my locker. "Besides, I knew this would be coming sooner or later. He'd come to his senses and realize that trying to be nice to me wasn't worth losing his status. I'm not surprised."
"You're sad!" Nancy whispered. "No, I'm not. Why would I be sad about a dirtbag like Steve Harrington?" "Whenever you're sad, you always over-explain the problem so it seems like you're in control, but you're not." I squinted at her. "I really don't wanna talk about this right now, Nance," I sighed.
Without waiting to see if she'd follow, I yanked my bag higher onto my shoulder and marched off in the direction of my English class.
