I stretched and yawned. Ew. Morning breath. Even though it was mine, it was still gross.
I’d fallen asleep pretty late last night, because I was in my “hyper screaming oh-my-god-I’m-in-a-boy’s-school-surrounded-with-hundreds-of-guys” mood, meant I’d been up texting my friends all night – even though they had absolutely no idea where I was.
I got up, and looked around groggily. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Then it clicked.
“Shit!” I yelled, finally noticing the time on the clock. 8.39am? How dare that bastard not wake me up? His bed was already empty!
“I hate getting up in the mornings,” I moaned to myself, pulling on the uniform I’d gotten ready yesterday and put next to me. It was weird not wearing a skirt to school, but a blazer, tie and jacket. And trousers. I’d forgotten how horrible it was to get up early. Thank God I lived on campus, and not about half-an-hour away by bus like I used, back in my actual high-school days. Still, by the time I was finally ready, I was about ten minutes late for first lesson (I checked my timetable quickly. Gym. GYM?! WHY, GOD, WHY?!). I gave up with the tie that I had no idea how to do up – it was gym, right? We were getting changed anyway.
And so I grabbed my nerdy boy-like school bag and ran out of my room, trying to find the stupid invisible Gym. It took me another ten minutes to find it. The building didn’t look so bad, but then – never judge a book by its cover. It was modern and machine-looking, all glass, but at least it wasn’t like that old hall we had at my cheap, old high school.
“I’m…sorry…I’m late…” I gasped, bursting into the classroom. When no teacher scorned me, or hit me with a ruler, I looked around, and saw Scott.
“Scott?”
He was on a rowing machine. Sweat dripped off his brow (sexily), his t-shirt really showing off his muscular arms. God, he was awesome. He stopped when I called his name.
“Eric? You turned up!”
“Yeah,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “‘Course. You have to turn up for class.”
He shook his head.
“You don't know? Oh sorry, I never told you. Everyone treats gym like a sort of…free period. You can come if you want to, but you don’t really have to. It’s for the people who want train their bodies. Teachers don't even turn up for it, mainly.”
“Is it the same with Calculus?” I asked, hopeful. He laughed, which I took to be no.
“Nope. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Why does a Performing Arts School teach real subjects, anyway?”
“Because it’s a proper institution,” he answered. “It’s not some Artsy school. Even though, it’s in the name and everything, it’s actually a very prestigious place. You have to work extra hard, as it fits the whole curriculum in with the performing arts stuff as well.”
I was planning on forgiving Cris, but I hate him so much right now. HOW COULD HE HAVE MISSED THIS FACT?!
“Can you tutor me tomorrow?” I asked, hopefully. “Please?”
“Sure,” he said, smiling. “Just get me a date with your sister.”
I bit my lip. Was it worth it? Oh, what the hell.
“This Saturday? She’s not busy then.”
“Give me her number?”
I was about to give it to him, but it would have been the same as the one I'd given him yesterday, saying that it was my number.
“She doesn’t really like it when I give out her number. How about you just meet her at twelve, outside the Starbucks in town?”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. Whoa. That was…stressful. Was acting really for me?
I lazed around, sitting on a broken treadmill for the rest of the lesson, looking through Scott’s Calculus textbook – apparently we both had it next. It seemed pretty…hard. There was a lot of letters. I thought this was Math.
I was running my hand through my wig, fluffing up the hair, when the bell rang. Scott had gone to take a shower, so I was just sitting here, waiting for him. The door opened and a gush of air rushed in, and I turned around, expecting Scott. It was Daniel, probably here for his next lesson.
It took a second for me to remember why I was so pissed.
“You bastard!” I yelled, suddenly angry again. “Why didn’t you wake me up?! I could have been late! Thank God I had gym, and it’s a free period!”
He came in, ignoring me. I have to say, he looked good in his little vesty thing, and his little shorts. STOP IT, ERICA! NO! DON’T YOU DARE SLOBBER!
“Well?” I yelled, more to stop myself form gaping than anything else. I walked up really close to him to make more of a statement.
“I knew you had gym, so I wanted you to get more sleep,” he said. I faltered.
“Really?” I said, in a small voice. Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe he was a nice guy.
“No,” he said, smirking. “I just couldn't be bothered to wake you up.”
Maybe not.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, and lashed out with my foot. He stopped smiling, and fell over with a little “oof”, clutching his shin. I’d kicked hard enough for a nice bruise to form tomorrow.
Scott Jacobs stood at the door, gaping.
“Let’s go,” I muttered. I just realized what I’d done. Then I ran out, dragging Scott with me.
***
Author's Note: LOL I couldn't be bothered to describe a proper Gym lesson because
a) I have never experienced a gym lesson in an all boy's school.
b) Mine are so boring they would put you off this book.
c) I hate gym.
