Dangerous Game

1 - The study of the human body

Aurora
A groan leaves my lips when Miss Larson flicks on the lights. I wasn't paying attention to the documentary, anyway. Like, seriously, every high schooler knows how reproduction occurs. At least, I hope they do.

The guy beside me stretches his arms, flexing his muscles in the process. I rolled my eyes at his obvious action. Anyone with eyes could tell that he meant to do that.

The fact that the girl behind him giggled
wasn't the least bit surprising.

"You don't find me attractive?" He whispered in my ear, a smirk on his lips. His forrest green eyes were glistening with mischief.

I'd be lying if I said that he wasn't cute. He had dark brown hair that almost touched his green eyes. He had dimples that appeared whenever he would smiled. He had olive colored skin. He would usually show up in a tshirt or a hoodie. Whenever he was nervous, he'd play with the strings of his hoodie. He had a great taste in music, if I do say so myself. He listens to Twenty One Pilots or All Time Low.

I only know that because I hear it through his headphones.

I'm not complaining, though. At least it isn't that cheesy pop music that makes my ears bleed. Like, seriously, why would he call her maybe?

"Okay, we'll have a test over the reproductive system on Friday. I advise you to study more than five minutes. Since it's almost the end of the semester, this test will decide whether you will have a passing grade in this class."

"So, would ten minutes of studying be good for ya?" A guy at the front of the room sneered, causing a few of his friends to laugh.

Why? I have no clue. What he said wasn't even that funny. If he wants to fail, then he can. No one is forcing him to graduate. The teachers don't give a crap if he isn't allowed to walk the line at graduation. The only future he's flushing down the toliet is his own, that's what my dad would say.

Being a neurosurgeon, dad values education. He also values the reputation that our family perceives. To him, the way your carry yourself influences those around you. Unlike mom, dad doesn't give a crap about his income.

Mom will cake herself in makeup everytime she leaves the walls of her bedroom. I prefer to lounge around the house in leggings and an oversized hoodie that I stole from my brother's closet. When I'm out in public, I barely wear any makeup. Just a bit of lipgloss.

I am not one of those girls who will go out
of her way to impress a guy. That's my mom's field, and I don't want to be anything like her.

"In groups of three, I'd like you to discuss what you had seen on the video that we watched at the beginning of class. You don't have to write anything down. I just want you to talk about it amongst yourselves."

Jesus Christ.

"Um, wanna work together?" I ask the guy that sits beside me. I believe his name is Hunter.

He shrugs. "Sure, but I fell asleep before the video even started, so I doubt I'd be much help."

I laughed at that, "dude, you're not the only one who zoned out once she turned the lights off."

"Man, you're a pretty cool chick. Why haven't we spoken before?" Hunter asked, giving me
a lopsided grin.

Question of the century right there, guys.

I offer him a small smile. "I honestly don't know. You just never really talk to me, and I don't talk to people that aren't my friends. I just am not a social person."

"Neither am I," he admits sheepishly, "I only talk to a few people. I have been friends with those guys since kindergarten. Your friends are cool, though. Poppy and I are pretty cool. And your friend Emerson is smoking hot, dude."

A laugh slips past my lips at his honesty. He isn't the only guy in the school that would give up their right arm for her to catch a movie with them. In the words of my brother, Aspen, the girl is hot as hell.

There's no doubt about the fact that Emerson is definitely beautiful. She has auburn hair that she keeps in loose waves. Golden hues reside in her warm brown eyes. Her sense of style is definitely exquisite. Unlike me, Emerson is a social butterfly, and is friends with everyone.

I only hang out with my two best friends, and I occasionally hang out with Aspen's friends if he lets me. Sometimes, he wants to smoke with his buddies, and doesn't want his twin sister around. I understand, though.

Besides, the smell of weed can be pretty digusting when you're around it so much.

At the sound of the bell, everyone began to gather their things, and head out the door. I grab my metallic bag off the floor, slinging it over my shoulders before leaving my class. Dragging my feet up the staircase, I make my way to my next period that is located on the third floor. Having a class on the third floor required physical effort that I didn't like all that much.

Reaching the top of the staircase, I dragged my feet to my classroom that was at the end of the hall. I didn't sign up for all this walking, that's for sure. I stepped through the open door, feeling the air conditioner hit me at full force. I plopped down in the back row, and set my bag down on the floor.

Glancing around, I noticed a few students had already taken their seats. Two girls next to me were chatting amongst themselves. A guy in front of me had his earbuds shoved in his ears, and his hood pulled low over his head. Another guy was typing ferociously on his phone, with a frown sitting upon his lips.

From what I could assume, he was about to have a breakup. Either that, or he was arguing with someone over which sports team was better.

"Girl, I need a nap," Poppy muttered, "I am tired." I laughed at her words. In all honesty, that was a whole mood. Poppy was another one of my best friends. I met her in freshman year at a party that was held by a mutual friend. Even though she can be very sarcastic, Poppy has a good heart.

She has dark purple hair that is pin-straight, and coffee brown eyes. Because of her Indian heritage, Poppy had a dark tint to her skin. She was also fluent in Arabic. Her father used to be a musician back in England. Her mom grew up in an Indian household, and she believes in a strictly Muslim religon. Other than what Poppy had told me, I don't know much about the country where she grew up, but I am hoping to learn Arabic in the future.

Poppy has been told by many guys at school that she is beautiful, but she isn't interested in them. In fact, she isn't interested in guys at all. She is dating a girl in her art class that likes drawing as much as she does. I've met Saige a couple of times. She seems really nice. And if she's not, Poppy won't hesitate to kick her to the curb. My best friend isn't afraid to stand up for herself.