Now that I'm the new It Girl and whatever, I have to find some other way to occupy myself during math. That isn't math, that is. I used to be totally gung ho about fractions and decimals and formulas, but I wouldn't be caught dead with another 95% nowadays.
"Yes, Daniel," says the teacher, Mr. Grinff. "You have to write out the formula every single time. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
"Rats," said Daniel. Someone patted him on the back sympathetically. I sent a spitball flying at the back of Daniel's head. Stupid question, Daniel. He was full of them: How do you spell special? Wait- the inside of the Earth is like...hot? And finally.. Kendal? Do you wanna go grab a movie and catch some burgers? Flying burgers, Daniel? Really?
"I need someone to demonstrate the principles of a line," continued Mr. Grinff. "Kendal, last year you aced this test so.."
Oh great. Time to put on the Miss Stupid act.
"What? Where?" I twirled my hair around my pointed finger. "Lines have like... principals? They go to school?" Maybe a bit overkill. Daniel threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. You know you're stupid when the dumbest kid in the class thinks you're an idiot.. Whatever, that's what I wanted wasn't it? Everyone to think I was an idiot? Congrats Kendal, you did it.
"Kendal," gasps Mr. Grinff, throwing his chalk onto his cluttered desk in despair. "Don't play stupid with me. You know better than that. Let me ask you again. The principals are?"
"Can I go to the nurse?" I asked sweetly, batting my eyelashes. "It's that time of month." Mr Grinff blushed and fidgeted with his tie. I giggled sweetly. "Please?"
He sighed again, looking uncomfortable. 'Okay, go ahead." He waved me off and turned to another kid to ask his question. I slung my tote bag over my shoulder, fluffed my hair, blew a kiss at a totally hot senior sitting in the back, and flounced out of the room.
The second I was out of sight, I whipped out my phone and keyed in a text to Sophie.
WHAT CLASS?
She replied almost instantly.
SCIENCE. WITH MR. HARDY
Mr. Hardy happened to have a habit of falling asleep in his own classes.
DITCH, I replied.
HOW??
FIND A WAY. I tucked my phone back into my bag and skipped to the office. I cleared my throat to announce my presence and the woman at the desk looked up at me from behind her glasses.
"Yeah?" she demanded, shuffling some papers.
I coughed weakly, twice. "I'm sick."
"Don't go all Mean Girls on me," she growled. "Go back to class."
"I need a pace for the health centre," I insisted. "Please? My head just kills." To dramatise this, I pressed my hand delicately to my forehead and closed my eyes. The woman frowns, not sure whether to believe me or not.
"I know you're just skipping class," she says, but her voice lacks the conviction and confidence of a proper accusation.
"Ahaha, as if. If you don't let me go, and I die of a deathly disease, my daddy will sue." I smile in a saccharine way and raise my eyebrows at her. I know I've won.
"Alright," she says quickly, shuffling some more papers. "Take your pass and go ahead."
I smile, satisfied, and delicately pick up my pass. I leave the building, but instead of heading across the parking lot to the drab health centre, I slide into the driver's seat of my convertible, parked neatly next to Sophie's little sports car. I only have to wait about two minutes before I hear someone approaching.
"God, Sophie. Hurry up." There's no reply, except for a low laugh. Unless Sophie suddenly morphed into a boy, that's not her. Ugh, that's embarrassing. I hate being embarrassed, so much so that it had become an obsession of mine to take my anger towards my embarrassment out on the nearest person. Who, unfortunately for his poor soul, happens to be the boy who laughed. At me. I turn around sharply, glaring at the person who is standing next to my car.
"What," I ask, putting enough venom in my voice to send him recoiling slightly, "do you want?"
He blinks, brushing dark hair out of his eyes. "I uh, just, er, um..." he trails off into silence. For a few moments he stares at my seatbelt, and I stare hopelessly at the school building, willing Sophie to come bursting through the doors.
Then suddenly, "Are you skipping school?" he blurts out. This kid, I think in exasperation, will most certainly become a highly paid detective and solve the major mysteries of the world.
"Why do you care?" I demand. Why is he even talking to me? I mean, he's cute, or cute-ish, with his dark wavy hair and his tallness. But still, he's not a football player, or a basketball player, or a soccer player, or a just plain player, which makes me way out of his league. I think he knows that. But his degrading smirk says that he just doesn't care.
"It's against the rules." He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Rules," I say, flashing him a dangerously flirty smile, "are made to be broken."
"I'm not going to let you," he replies, staring at me steadfastly. I blink, suddenly uncomfortable. He, being a reputationless loser who sits at the front of each class and takes notes like his life depends on it, is not going to let me, the homecoming queen, skip school. He has the nerve, the audacity, to approach me and get in my way? All this, mind you, while he, too, is skipping school.
"Um, what are you going to do about it?" I shot back, challenging. "And aren't you supposed to be in class too?"
"I," he said proudly, "am going to stand behind your car. And if you really want to leave, you will run me over." He ignores my accusation. I gape at him. Is this kid for real?
"Ugh," I snap, disgust painting my voice. "Get out of the way." The kid just smiles at me, planted directly behind me, as if to say "Sorry, but no."
This. Makes. Me. Furious.
"Seriously, I will run you over." Okay, maybe that was a lie. I wouldn't want his bodily tissues and intestines smeared across the back of my car for the world to see. Besides, my car is, for all intents and purposes, brand new. But I can't let him know that, or else he will not get out of my way. I rev the engine, to make my false intentions clear. Slowly, I inch out of the parking space, but he doesn't budge. My rear fender is just about scraping his knee caps when I throw my hands up in frustration.
"You know what, fine! Have it your way." I climb out of my car and slam the door loudly, stalking past him. Words can't describe how pissed I am at this kid as I sign back in at the office, text Sophie saying NEVER MIND, and slide back into my chair in math.
This feels all too familiar. Doing the right thing. Following the rules. Letting people push me around and tell me what to do. I sigh, swiping cherry lip gloss onto my lips. Somehow, I need to remind everyone, (even the arrogant nobodies like that boy) that I, Kendal Brooks, am still on top.
