Southern Charms

Catching Up

 I ended up spending the rest of my Sunday at home. Willow said she felt like death, and Ash sent her a message claiming he couldn't get out of a family obligation. After the excitement of the last two days, alone time sounded heavenly, but when it was time to go to sleep that night, I couldn't shake a strong sense of unease.

By the time I reached school, the feeling was stronger still, and it was all I could do to keep from banging my head against the steering wheel before climbing out of the car. This was not how I was supposed to feel when I came to school. This was my safe haven.

"Someone is in a foul mood," Flannery said, her sable eyes following me to my desk. She'd done her hair over Sunday, and it hung down her back in long, black waves. When she moved, I spied a pink peekaboo piece.

"Don't let Sister Maria see your hair," I said, opting to ignore her comment.

"It's hot, though. Right?"

Thinking of my own adventures with pink hair over the weekend, I forced a smile to my lips. "You can definitely pull it off.

"You should let me put one in yours."

A hand flew to the thick braid tossed over my shoulder, and I curled my fingers around it in a protective shield. "Definitely not."

Flipping open her Algebra book, she started doodling in the edges. Just the sight of her defacing a book made me wince internally- it didn't matter that I sometimes dreamed of putting mine in a bonfire. But when I saw what she was writing, the inward wince manifested physically.

"I'll be sure to let Ash know you'd like him to take your name."

Her pen lifted, and she studied her work. "Ash Connors does have a good ring to it, but I think he'd prefer Wych."

The warning bell rang, and the room began to fill up. I used it as a distraction, turning away from her to pull my book out of the bag. "If you think he's so into me, why are you still crushing on him?"

"Because that boy is straight fire. A girl can dream. Oh, btdubs, I just saw your message about Allyson this morning. Figured I'd just wait til I saw you to talk about it."

"You just saw it?" I said, not bothering to hide my disbelief. Flannery's phone stayed glued to her hands between classes and sometimes during.

"Girl," she started, lowering her voice to a whisper when Sister Julia entered the room, "mom took my phone after I missed curfew on Saturday."

"Alright, all side conversations should cease immediately. You are here to learn about math not about your weekends."

Sister Julia's booming voice silenced the classroom, and I did my best to focus on the lesson. I couldn't afford to fail another test, but I struggled with math on a good day. Studying my classmates revealed I wasn't the only one struggling today. Glazed eyes stared at the dry erase board, not comprehending the equations scrawled across the surface.

The familiar musty smell and creaking sound of desks eased some of the tension from my body, and when the dismissal bell rang, I'd forced the sense foreboding to the back of my mind. Flannery, always faster than me, waited for me outside the classroom, her bright white tennis shoes tapping an impatient rhythm on the dingy linoleum.

"Sorry," I muttered, straightening the straps of my backpack over my shoulders as we headed to our next class. She arched a brow but said nothing. This was normal. I exhaled. This was routine. Comfortable.

The high pitched squeals and giggles of teen girls bounced off the metal lockers, the din almost deafening. Flannery waved at a few friends, but she didn't leave my side to talk to anyone. We shared the next class- Honors English, but afterwards, I wouldn't see her again until we met up in the parking lot.