Lost Boys || BoyxBoy (on hold)

3

CHAPTER THREE
PARKER

I look cautiously at new girl sitting next to me.

      Who the hell moves during their senior year? And misses the first week of classes?

      Me-ah; that's how the math teacher had introduced her. My-ah Grant; she had corrected almost immediately after.

      She's pretty, I'll give her that. She had dark brown hair that flows in loose waves down her back, her olive skin was practically flawless, glowing. She had some makeup on--mascara and maybe some blush or she was just blushing from the equations (or the fact that I was staring at her). She wore a red dress that was off the shoulder and tied in the front in a cute bow and she wore black flats.

     "I'm not interested," she said suddenly, not even looking up from the equations she wrote in a neat scrawl.

      I scoffed. "I'm not interested in you either."

      "Then quit staring."

      The bell rang for lunch and Mia quickly grabbed her stuff before darting out of the classroom.

      I took my time putting everything back into my one binder and then my bag.

      "Hurry up."

      I looked up. Noah was leaning against the doorframe of the classroom, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His brown hair was tousled, stubble on his cheeks. He wore a dark hoodie with a faded denim jacket over top with black ripped jeans, his skateboard tucked under his arm.

     "Wednesday is chicken fingers day," he reminded me, smiling.

      My heart squeezed and I turned away from him as I grabbed my bag. "Those things probably aren't real chicken," I said as I walked towards the door.

      Noah stood up straight and we walked down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "Whatever it is, it tastes fucking heavenly."

      "It tastes like high cholesterol and heart disease."

     "Exactly; heavenly."

      We walked into the cafeteria and headed straight to the lunchline. We ordered the same thing--chicken fingers and a pop--with the exception of me getting extra dipping sauce and Noah getting a bag of chips.

      After paying, we headed to our table. Just as we sat, Isla groaned and stood up, heading towards her brother.

      "What's that about?" Noah asked the table, dipping his chicken finger in barbeque sauce.

      "Will was buying Isla's lunch and stopped to flirt with that poor girl," Finnegan said.

      We all watched as Isla said something to the girl that caused her to look at Isla with disgust before Isla marched back to our table.

      "What'd you do now?" Finnegan asked her.

      Isla bit into her hamburger--she agreed that the chicken fingers weren't that great. "She was giving me the look."

      I raised an eyebrow. "She's a lesbian?"

      "Not that look," she said. "The disgusted look." Isla looked down for a second as if thinking, a frown took over her face.

      Isla was so brave. Here I was, in the closet, always able to blend in with everyone else while she had to go through so much just for her happiness.

     "She's a bitch," Finnegan said.

      Isla looked up.

      I nodded. "A fucking bitch."