I Don't Really Know...

Chapter 28: Broken Heart & Broken Arm

“You should’ve seen the look on their faces!  It was priceless.” I laugh maniacally, receiving high fives from my two friends.  

 

“I wish we could have seen it.”  Preston has a faraway look.  “I would’ve payed money to not miss it.  Good job, Three Musketeers!”  I look at Mila, whose eyes are shining like a deer’s caught in headlights.  

 

“I gotta say, who did the best acting? I’m voting on Mila.  I honestly thought you were gonna abandon ship!” I admitted, and Mila shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess I’m just good at acting.” She finally responds, seeming as if in her own little world.  I smile.   

“That’s very true.  So.  Lunch ended 10 minutes ago.” I take a peek at my watch, sighing.  We definitely got carried away.  Suddenly, Mila starts gasping for air, as her usual laugh.  

 

“Sorry it’s just...that was probably the time of my life just then.”

 

Preston smiles, putting his arm around each of us.  “You know guys?  I think we’re gonna get along.”  

 

I smiled.  I smiled bigger than ever before.  Everything is turning out just fine.

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I give the boy behind me an evil glare.  Would he ever stop?

 

“Is there a problem?” He snickers, biting his nails.  I scoff.  If only he knew.  He continued drumming his fingers on his desk and humming with closed lips.

 

And here I was.  Sitting in spanish class with a boy who never shut up.  Perfect.  He continues to tap his fingers, making a hollow sound with the desk and making my face turn red from annoyance.  I raise my hand, and the teacher calls on me.  

 

“Si, Senorita?” She says.  I point behind me and hear a sudden stop of fingers.

 

“Um, can you tell him to stop humming?  I can’t concentrate.”  I quietly reveal.  He raises his hands.

 

“I wasn’t doing that.  I swear.”  He dramatically waves his fingers, as if showing that they weren’t just laying on the desk and Senora looks confused.

 

“Well… ok.  Zoie, if he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it.  Was anyone making noise?” Everyone remained silent, betraying me.  

 

“If anyone was, stop.  This is silent, independent working.” She turns back to the board, busying herself with copying the homework down for the next class.  The boy taps me on the shoulder, and I whip around, facing him with dangerous eyes.  He smirks and whispers;

 

“Got ‘ya.”   

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“And then he’s like, ‘Got ‘ya.’ How…” I complain, almost speechless with anger.  I look over to my brother, who I thought was listening.  Instead, he snuck his headphones in his sweatshirt so I couldn’t see them.  He hasn’t noticed I’ve stopped talking yet.  I, with quick reflexes, tear the headphones out of his iPod and he looks up at me, shocked.