Path To Realization (Fighter's Den, #4)

Chapter 6 - Aria

PAST

I close my locker and keep my textbooks tucked against my chest as I make my way down the hall for first period. So far, eight grade is going pretty well and I haven't embarrassed myself yet. I just hope it stays that way.

I enter math class and hold my books even tighter when I notice everyone talking to one another. I can tell that the class is divided into different groups and I'm not quite sure where I'd fit in considering I have a friend in each group. I'm a pretty outgoing person so I look for any available seat, knowing I'll be comfortable regardless. I'm walking towards one when I notice someone sitting all the way in the back corner, arms crossed and glowering. I hold back a laugh. I've accepted that Asher is always mad and cranky no matter the circumstance. That scowl of his is practically permanent.

"Here's a tip: if you don't act like you want to kill everyone in this room then people will actually talk to you." I smart and drop my books on the desk next to his, taking a seat.

"Very funny." He side-glances me. "What are you wearing?"

I blink and look down at my outfit. I spent way too long putting it together for the first day of school and was satisfied when I finally had it done. Grade eight girls dress differently, more mature, and I wanted to do the same. Mom took me shopping and bought me new clothes for the year, where most of our time was spent bickering over what was appropriate and what wasn't. Today's outfit is nothing more than a pair of khaki dress shorts that are long enough for the dress code, a white shirt, and some converse. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your clothes look too small for you. Did you not get the right size?"

"What?" I scoff. I look down again and frown. I'm definitely wearing the right size but my body changed over the summer. My thighs and hips are a little bigger and I'm starting to form boobs. I officially got rid of all my A-cup bras and am now proudly a B. I guess my...attributes are more prominent now and maybe that's why I look different. "My clothes are fine."

"They seem tight to me. Can you even breathe?" He snickers and I roll my eyes. Leave it to Asher to keep my ego in check. That's what I get for thinking I was getting stared at by some of the guys this morning. I even started wearing contact lenses and I feel prettier than I did last year but I guess I look weird instead. "Your shirt is see through, by the way."

"Barely." I glare at him. What is up with him? I know he likes to bother me but right now he's just being plain rude.

"What?" He shrugs and his eyes drop to my chest briefly. I feel my face catch on fire when he says, "The flowers on the pink bra are a nice touch."

What an ass! I cross my arms over my chest defensively, feeling much more self-conscious now. You can't even see my bra unless you squint really hard so why the hell is he even squinting?

I ignore him and watch the rest of my classmates instead. We have the typical hierarchy like any other school; everyone knows who the popular kids are and who aren't. I'm somewhere in the middle but a little closer to the popular side. I don't like to consider myself that way though because it's so cliché. I just like making friends so I happen to know a lot of people.

I watch a little curiously as Samantha Simmons, easily the most popular girl in this school, makes her way to the back where Ash and I are. She pauses beside his desk and smiles, bending down in front of him to rest her forearms on his desk. Samantha is the only thirteen-year-old girl I know that wears D-cup bras and right now she's definitely using that to her advantage.

"Hey, Asher." She says in this weird and breathy voice. Does she have asthma?

"Hey." He says in his usual, bored voice. I'm not surprised when his eyes drop to her chest but I am surprised that they stay there before gradually moving back up, his lip curling in his notorious smirk. I blink and a weird feeling forms in my chest. He never smirks at anyone like that except me. Until now.