Rival Love (7 page)

It’s been like this all morning. Every class, a teacher calls my name and the entire class turns from talking in muffled tones to dead silence. I wish this day would hurry up and be over with already.

Keeping my eyes closed, I try to imagine the rest of the room. People are probably glaring at me. Readying themselves to toss things at me, or trip me if I move from my seat like the last two classes before this one. And even though I hate it, I keep telling myself this would be happening to them if they were at Harris Academy.

Releasing a bit of air I’ve been holding onto, I hear Caleb’s voice call out, “Fifteen.” I open my eyes, expecting to see the back of his head, but it’s his green eyes that greet me. I blink and look down at my used book.

He makes a sound close to a snort.

Jerk!

I wish this uncomfortable feeling creeping up on me would go away. And I really hate feeling like I owe Caleb some sort of favor for his help earlier in the hallway. Not that I really needed it. That stupid Amber.
Pshh
. She’s just jealous because I could swim laps around her in the pool. And as for the softball field, well, I could outplay her with one arm tied behind my back. What’s completely sick is the fact Caleb hooked up with that troll. I can’t believe that’s his type…
Ewww!
Wait, what am I saying? I don’t care who he dates.

Snap out of it! He’s an ape, and a complete jerk. More to the point, he’s a Bobcat!

“Class, you may begin to read silently.”

Shifting in my seat, I start to read the assigned pages. While reading about mob rule, and the reason for it, my attention strays to the oncoming wad of paper flying toward my face. My body reacts quickly, catching the paper before it hits me in the nose. Someone in class mutters a swear word. I don’t bother looking for the person. This has been happening to me all morning, why would it stop now?

I glance up at the black clock mocking me on the wall, and catch a glimpse of Caleb eyeing me. “What?” I groan.

“Nice snag, Fletcher.”

I glare at him. “Stop doing that.”

He leans in so close; a light hint of mint comes off his breath. I can smell his cologne, a mix of cinnamon and cedar wafting off him. It’s so inviting, wonderful, and yet, it’s scary and sickening how much I like smelling him.
Get a hold of yourself, he’s the enemy!
“Doing what?” he whispers.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Why won’t he just ignore me like he said he would?

I revert my attention back to the reading assignment. However, I don’t get much reading done since the rest of the class decides to throw more things at me. Pen caps, erasers, licked candy, chewed gum, and the teacher seems to be blind to it all. I use my book as a shield, while my frustration builds. For the past two classes, I’ve controlled my emotions and didn’t say a word about the attacks, but my control is slipping. I won’t be able to handle much more of this.

Pretending to read, I notice the boy closest to Caleb starts to stand. Snickers fill the room. The boy leans toward Caleb with an open bottle of red Gatorade. Now, I’m not a mind reader, but I know this boy is planning on pouring that drink on me and claiming it to be an accident. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let these Bobcats do this to me, and then laugh about it.

Patiently waiting for the moment of the boy’s attack, I take a deep breath, and then slowly shift my position in my seat. I continue to pretend to be reading, but notice the boy inching himself closer to me. As his hand starts to rise, I snatch it and force his hand backwards. He yelps in pain, and his entire drink pours all over himself.

The entire class turns from giggles to an uproar of angry shouts. I continue to glare at the boy, though, and release his arm with a force that makes him stumble back into the row of desks behind him. Mr. Munzo yells, “Miss Fletcher! Gather up your things, we’re going to the principal’s office this instant.”

“Fine with me.” I don’t even care how this looks. Defending yourself isn’t a crime, but maybe this is what I need for my mother to see what a mistake this little move of hers is. Snatching up my things and heading toward the front of the class, I can feel everyone in the room monitoring my every step. I don’t look at any of them; my focus is on the door, which is held open by Mr. Munzo.

Mr. Munzo stops at the room next to his and taps on the door. A woman with long blond hair steps out into the hall. I instantly recognize her. Mrs. Walker. She was my science teacher in middle school. I gasp, but look at the floor when her eyes scan over to me. “What’s going on, Fred?”

“Sarah, can you pop in and watch my class for a few minutes? I’ve got to take this one to the office.”

“Fletcher, right?”

I don’t know if she’s talking to him or me. I’m not answering her if she is talking to me.

“Yes, Miss Fletcher here thought she’d disrupt my class by dumping her drink all over Mr. Buckner.”

Wow. So I’m the hoodlum here?
Fantastic.
To think my friends would’ve been so proud of what I did. A pain fills my heart just thinking about them. I’d give anything to text them what I did my first day in hell. Sadly, I know they won’t respond. They’ve already banished my existence, at least that’s what they said they’d do.

“I’ll take her down for you, Fred. This is my free period.”

I notice her classroom is full of empty desks.

“If you insist. Thank you.”

Mr. Munzo left us. The awkward silence between Mrs. Walker and I grew. “Skylar, come on in and take a seat.”

I raise my head, meeting her gaze, and ask, “What?”

“Sit.” I do as she says and take the seat closest to the door. She gives me a thousand-watt smile. “Skylar, I’m quite shocked to see you here.”

Take a number.
“It wasn’t my idea.”

“I see. So, would you like to tell me what happened?”

I’m not sure what she’s implying by this vague question. Does she want to know about what happened in the classroom? Or is she asking about my life, and the reason behind this transfer? I shrug. “That’s a vague question.”

She frowns. “Ohhh-kay. I can see you haven’t changed much.”

What’s that suppose to mean?
“I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Walker straightens her pencil skirt and paces the space between the desk and dry-erase board. “It wasn’t meant to be offensive, I just forgot you want specific questions in order to give correct answers.” She pauses for a second and then sighs. “Why are you here in this school?”

I swallow hard. “My mom’s love life brought us here. As for what happened in Mr. Munzo’s class…well, the other students still see me as a Bulldog, and would probably kill me if they could. That boy tried to pour his drink on me. I just got it on him first. So, why are you here? Didn’t like our school system?”

She smiles. “My husband moved his business to this section of town. The teaching position I’ve always wanted opened up over here, so I took it. End of story.”

“Mr. Munzo didn’t look like he was going to spit in your coffee and key your car during lunch,” I say with a shrug.

She laughs. “No. Then again, I’m not well-known like you are. Come on. We have to go see the principal. Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you. The most you might get for misbehavior is an hour’s worth of detention which, luck would have it, I’ve been assigned after school.”

Great. An ex-teacher, her ex-student, and a room full of misfits. What more could I ask for?

Chapter 14

Caleb

World Literature started a good twenty minutes before Skylar decides to waltz into the classroom. The girls in the first two rows actually shut up and stare in silence. Our teacher, Ms. Norris, hands Skylar a paper and a book then tells her to go find a desk.

The girls don’t start whispering again until after Skylar makes her way past their row. “Oh no, she isn’t. What the hell is she even doing here?” Ceria asks in a booming voice.

“I know. You’re on the wrong side of the tracks, Bulldog,” Laura chimes in.

This feels like a repeat of civics. I hope she doesn’t dump any more sports drinks. The last thirty-five minutes of civics was pure hell. Gabe reeked of fruit punch, and I can’t take another second let alone twenty-five minutes of that scent.

Skylar impresses me, though. I actually hate admitting this, but it’s true. It’s obvious she didn’t tell Mr. Munzo the truth nor did she tell Erin I Saran-Wrapped the toilet. This girl is just full of surprises, to say the least.

I watch her make her way to the windows and take a seat in the far back. Our class has less than twenty students in it, so she’s practically by herself back in the corner. I’m surprised Ms. Norris hasn’t asked her to move yet, but I guess she feels sorry for Skylar. Maybe I kind of feel bad for her too. It’s gotta suck for her, but if the roles were reversed I’m pretty sure Skylar would be just as cruel if any of us were walking into Bulldog territory.

“Continuing where I left off on the syllabus, Caleb, would you please read what you’ll be reading and learning in class this year?” Ms. Norris says.

I clear my throat and begin, “Our reading list will contain works from
A Separate Peace
by John Knowles
.
” A snort comes from the back of the room, and I can only assume it’s from Skylar. I don’t know what’s so amusing about this title, but I don’t want to find out. “Also
My Antonia
by Willa Cather, along with some works of poetry. We will learn how to read poetry as well as write it and learn the different styles of writing and how to apply them.”

“Thank you. Any questions, class?”

No one raises their hand. Everyone acts mute, even the girls a few seats in front of me. “All right. Since no one has any questions, let’s start off by pairing up with someone in the room. We’re going to find out the person’s name, what they like, dislike, favorite food, whatever. You’re in charge of making up the questions, and then we’re going to read these aloud. So yes, make them appropriate questions.”

I glance back at Skylar and notice her eyes are wide. I should go help her out, for Erin’s sake, but it would look bad on my part. She’s on her own. Just like she was all on her own when Gabe attempted to pour his drink on her. Someone tugs on my sleeve causing me to turn my attention to Laura. “Hey, wanna interview me?”

“Sure.”

I notice Kayla, the transfer from California, leave her seat, which is in front of me, and head toward Skylar’s section. Laura laughs, “Look, the geek is going to talk to the spaz. Pathetic.”

I smirk at Laura. “So, what kind of questions do you got for me, babe?” She blushes. My words mean nothing, but I’m pretty sure she’s not thinking that.
Women
. They always take the slightest thing and twist it into something it’s not.

She twirls a strand of blond hair around her finger and blows out a bubble of gum.
Snap
. She chomps, showing off the gum. Uck, I hate when chicks do this. “Well, how about your favorite color?”

I frown. I already know how these questions will go from here: typical, non-thinking, uninteresting questions—lame. “I’ve got two: red and blue.”

She giggles. “I guessed that. How fun.” She writes down my answers and continues going through her list of terrible questions. And since she doesn’t bother asking me anything interesting I ask her the same questions.

Once we’re finished, Ms. Norris begins rattling off names. Garrett and Amy go first, next is Brian and Diana. I pretend to listen. Because most of these people I already know and don’t give a shit about what they like to do. Slouching in my seat, keeping my eyes on either Diana’s long legs or Amy’s cleavage, a smile finally forms when our teacher says, “Skylar Fletcher, you and Kayla Winslow are up next.”

Skylar strolls up to the front. Kayla follows but is at least three strides behind, and then stands like a foot away from Skylar.
This is going to be priceless.

Kayla looks over at Ms. Norris and she nods. Clearing her throat Kayla starts, “This is Skylar Fletcher. Skylar loves playing guitar, eating Twizzlers, playing sports, and spitting. She’s a three-year state-champion swimmer, and an all-state softball player. Her mother moved her here without consent, and she really resents her for it, along with everyone here. Her favorite color is orange, red, and green because those are the colors everyone from here will eventually see. Orange is for her true school, red is blood being spilt, and green is the grass where most will be laid out. She also can’t believe your mothers let you leave the house with your butts hanging out and stomp around in hooker boots. She wants to know if you plan on working the corners, or trying out for the school play,
Pretty Woman
.”

Ms. Norris gasps, “Stop the interview!”

Skylar snatches the paper from Kayla and continues. “I also
loathe
every single one of you.” She tosses the paper to the floor and says, “So, who here wants to know about Kayla Winslow? Hmmm?” Ms. Norris is moving from her desk and around the room, while Skylar starts dodging her attempts to capture her. “That’s Kayla Winslow. She’s excited about seeing snow for the first time, since most of her life she’s been living in California.”

“Miss Fletcher!”

I’m surprised no one has tripped her or helped Ms. Norris out on this capture, but I must admit this is so much better than “This is…and they like…” If she wasn’t a stupid Bulldog, I’d try to help her escape.

Skylar snorts as Ms. Norris fails at catching her again. “Kayla has a Blue Heeler named Pepper, and an annoying brother named Kai. She’s a vegetarian, but will devour a whole bag of animal crackers. Sucks to be them. She loves surfing and would be doing that after school, if we had an ocean. Too bad all we have are lakes and the only waves they get are from boats. She also loves to swim and play volleyball. Her life-long dream is to become a dentist.” She frowns. “I hope no one bites you.”

“Miss Fletcher! Go to the office right this minute.”

She shrugs. “Fine with me. That, class, is Kayla.” She snatches up her bag and heads out the door.