Bulletproof (#1) ✔

1: Franny

The point of view of this book switches between two characters. The point of view is the name in the chapter title.

1. Franny

Mr Dalton is a mean, sadistic, rude little man who preys on the weak and feasts on the helpless.

Of course, today is no exception.

He drops the giant pile of pop quizzes on his desk with a loud thud that cuts through the noise of the rest of the students talking. I look up from my notebook where I had been drawing random circles and lines, coloring them in messily and wasting most of the ink in my pen.

"Morning." Mr Dalton smiles cheerily. For such a happy man he really does punish his students unreasonably. "It's one of those days again. Pop Quiz Thursday...on a Tuesday."

"I'm pretty sure the only day we don't have a pop quiz is Thursday," my friend, Tally, mutters from the seat beside me, twirling a strand of her ginger hair around a long finger.

I squint a little at her choice of nail polish, noticing how the pink clashes completely with her bright ginger hair and pale green eyes.

"I thought we made a unanimous decision about pink really not being your colour," I say in the nicest way possible.

Tally glances at me from the corner of her eye as she slouches in her seat, knees up and pressed against the front of the desk. "I ran out of the red and you know that I barely have any nail polish, so I had to go raid my mom's drawer otherwise I'd start biting my nails again."

"How did that work out for you?" I ask.

Tally raises her hands that are covered in bright pink polish and I wince. "My mom has an addiction to the colour pink. I should have seen it coming to be honest. I mean her closet is terrifying. Who knew there were so many shades of pink?"

"You should write a book about it," I snicker. "Fifty Shades of Pink. The brand new erotica by Tally Archer. Which shade will they use today?"

"You're hilarious," Tally deadpans, as Mr Dalton comes closer to us, handing out the pop quizzes. "Honestly."

"I try my best," I say, winking.

Mr Dalton comes to a stop at our desks. The classroom is sectioned into rows, each with two desks clumped together as a pair. My desk is pressed up against the wall, under a World War II poster that keeps falling down onto my head and stabbing me in the eye. Tally's desk is right beside mine and there's only one row behind us.

"Francesca." Mr Dalton hands me a pop quiz, "I hope you took my advice and started to study your notes every night. It will do you the world of good."

"Of course I have," I say with a smile. "Every night. I've been right on it."

"Well then this quiz will sure be a test of your studying abilities," he says and places the quiz down on my desk before walking off to hand the rest out.

"Why did I say that?" I ask. "Now he probably expects me to be a genius."

"I wouldn't push it that far," Tally says.

I narrow my eyes at the side of her head and sigh before flipping the paper over. I write my name, knowing it's one thing that I will actually get right. I put the date too, just in case that gives me some sort of brownie points. I glance at the first question and I can't help it when my forehead creases in confusion. I turn, poking Tally relentlessly in the arm.

Her hand is moving quickly, scribbling down word after word and I just stare at her, dumbfounded. She stops and looks over at me with a mix of annoyance and confusion. "What?"