FANGIRLS
Day after day, it's the same thing. Hell. From the moment Erin steps into Shonia Creek High's halls at seven-thirty a.m. (way too early for a slothful sixteen-year-old, by the way), until the moment she escapes at two-thirty, are the most painful hours of Erin's life. She's punished five days out of the week with torturous minutes of memorizing presidents and the periodic table. Reading snooze-worthy Shakespeare and looking at graphs with loopy lines.
It isn't fair! It should be illegal to make teenagers work this hard. But no, here Erin is at school, with its ugly cement prison walls plastered with decorations of their offensive Tomahawks mascot. Not to mention the mean teachers.
Like the one she's forced to listen to now in the library. Well, she's kind of listening-mostly she's drawing in her notebook while Mr. Callahern drones on. Her World History teacher is unforgivably rude and cares more about humiliating Erin than actually teaching her about World War I...or are they on World War II? Does it really matter? They both sucked, right?
"Ms. Lee," Mr. Callahern's cold voice addresses her.
Erin looks up from doodling and stares into Callahern's beady, little eyes. It's no wonder why Erin doesn't pay attention. Mr. Callahern is so ugly that even if Erin kept her eyes front and center she still wouldn't be able to concentrate.
"Yes, Call--Mr. Callahern?"
"I suggest you hop to it."
"Um, what?" Erin says blankly.
Callahern motions to the rest of the room. Her classmates are finding material for their research papers while she's sitting there doing nothing.
Erin feels her cheeks burn bright red.
"Don't tell me you've managed to finish the paper on the first day it's assigned," Callahern says.
That's right. They weren't studying World War II. They're working on a unit about historical figures. Erin's assigned person is Martin Van Buren, who is the most boring president ever. How is she supposed to make him interesting?
"No, sir. I'll start looking." Erin speed walks away and tries to get lost amongst the bookshelves. Unfortunately, she runs straight into someone while hiding in the literature section. To make matters worse, she causes the guy to drop his books to the floor in a loud thud.
"Shh!" comes an irritated hiss from several students.
"Sorry," the tall guy calls out softly to the general (disgruntled) public as he squats down to pick up his books. Erin falls to her knees.
"Oh my gosh!" Erin whispers heatedly. "I'm sorry."
She's about to ramble more apologies when she makes eye contact with the guy-and everything stops. Because he is one of the cutest guys she has ever seen. Erin sits there, completely dumbfounded and lost in his eyes. He has gorgeous amber eyes and perfect, tan skin. He also has a hipsterish air, with stylish glasses and dark hair which is curly and artfully messy and-
"It's okay," he says.
Judging by his amused expression, he doesn't seem embarrassed he's collided with a blustering idiot. Meanwhile, she's stuttering and blushing like crazy.
"No. I bum-rushed you."
"No harm done. My limbs remain safely attached." He gives her a wink. "What about you?"
"Everything seems to be in working order." Erin holds back a shrill giggle.
"Good." He holds out his hand in an expectant gesture. "May I?"
YOU ARE READING
Crescendo
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