INNERMOST
Part One
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Her perfect, curvy figure taunted me as I sat in class and I could almost hear her brunette curls hurling insults at my split ends. Even I couldn't help but stare at her whenever she was around — and I'm a girl. First day of junior year and I get to gawk at the back of this witch's head for the entire length of it. I mean, she had to have used some sort of spell to make herself so flawless.
To make things worse, every single student at Meridian High School knows who she is and adores her. And of course this girl's parents had the audacity to name her Angel. It's like they knew at conception she was going to be so perfect. In Hollywood, the hottest girls are often fake or complete snobs, but not Angel.
She's actually extremely kind and generous. She's also our class ASB president, the varsity volleyball captain, a manager for the boys' basketball team and she's a two-time state pole vault champion. Interestingly enough, I don't think she's ever had a boyfriend. Keeping my envious thoughts to myself, I reached into my backpack to pull out a mechanical pencil and a notebook.
"Mallory Montgomery?" Mr. Boulware, my new chemistry teacher, called out.
"Here," I responded, raising my hand. The man continued to take attendance, exclaiming more of my classmates' names and butchering a few.
After going over the class syllabus and playing some pointless icebreaker games, the bell rang. I quietly grabbed my things and walked to my next class, which was psychology. I arrived a bit early. When I walked in and took a look at the seating chart, my eyes were immediately drawn to Angel's name. Thankfully, she was going to be sitting across the room from me this time. After scanning the rows of desks in the room, I realized someone was already occupying my seat.
I'd never seen him before, too.
Crap. His gaze met mine from across the room and I suddenly felt incredibly awkward. I sauntered towards the boy, nervously clearing my throat. It's always weird asking someone to get out of your seat. I've only had to do it one other time and I couldn't help but feel like I'd done something wrong afterwards. I stood above him now, not exactly sure of what to say and how to say it. His voice was calm and a bit raspy.
"Can I help you?" His question came across a bit rude.
"I think you're in my seat," I replied, his rudeness bouncing off of me and back at him.
"And?"
"Would you mind moving?"
"I mind." He crossed his arms.
Instinctively, my attempt at a fake, polite smile vanished. Instead, I frowned and wore a furrowed brow. "Excuse me?"
The student rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm comfortable here. And I like the view of the whiteboard." He gestured to the front of the classroom.
"If we aren't in the right seats, we could be marked absent."
"Ooh, a goody two shoes, are we?"
"Somewhat," I scoffed. He was really starting to frustrate me.
"You know...you have a pretty name, Mallory."
Immediately, my face contorted with shock. I have never told this brown-eyed freak my name before — or were his eyes almost a red? My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by laughter.
"That look on your face! Relax, I saw the seating chart, Mal."
"It's Mallory," I corrected him, crinkling my nose. "I don't do nicknames."
"You will."
So cryptic. As enticing as this was, I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe I just wasn't digesting that compliment very well.
"My name's Logan."
"I didn't see any 'Logan' on the seating chart." Well that was one pointless attempt at being snarky. Great job, Mallory! I make myself want to throw up sometimes.
"I'm on there somewhere. I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I wouldn't forget my own name."
"I kind of meant maybe you were in the wrong class..."
"Ah, right," he paused. Without another word, Logan grabbed his things and slid past me to the neighboring desk. "You know what? I've made the recent discovery that the view looks the same from here. You can have your seat."
Great. Now I get to sit next to him all year. "Thanks," I muttered as I sat down.
"Well you were practically begging for me to move."
A surge of both anger and courage came over me after hearing those words. "Are you joking? What's even the point of talking to me like that? And for the record, that was not begging!"
"Whatever you say, Mal." Logan turned towards me, smirking. "We all have ways of getting what we want."
This guy was unbelievable. I changed the subject. "Are you some sort of transfer student or something?"
"No, I just like to lay low."
He stopped as if he expected me to reply, but I remained quiet.
"I've done so for the past few years. Being a silent, competent professional, as opposed to being proud and outspoken, cultivates a composed human being who deserves respect. I've learned to never criticize, condemn or argue with anyone." Angel ironically strode into the room while Logan was talking. She was with a couple of her girlfriends. "Wouldn't you agree?"
The teacher walked into the room just as the next bell rang. "Class is starting," I commented, hoping Logan would shut up. I actually did agree with him. I wonder why he had decided to bother me of all people.
"Well then I guess we ought to shut up," Logan grinned in response to me, leaning back in his seat. I let out a sigh of relief as our teacher introduced herself. Unfortunately, I was hardly able to listen to her. All I could hear was a steady flow of words, none of them the slightest bit interesting.
About thirty seconds later, Logan abruptly spoke up again. "This is so ridiculously boring," he said while absent-mindedly twirling a lock of his hair around a finger. He was clearly talking to me.
"Did I ask?" I growled. "No, no I didn't. So please keep your thoughts to yourself!"
Our psychology teacher, Mrs. Neumann, then called out my name. I was impressed she remembered it. "Ms. Montgomery," she said. "When I'm talking, all of you are expected to listen. Class has started."
I swallowed my pride and nodded. In the desk adjacent to mine, Logan was attempting to stifle a laugh.
"Classic," he snickered.
I can't wait to punch him.
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Innermost
Mystery / Thriller"This is so ridiculously boring," he said while absent-mindedly twirling a lock of his hair around a finger. He was clearly talking to me. "Did I ask?" I growled. "No, no I didn't. So please keep your thoughts to yourself." Our psychology teacher, M...