Tipping his chin up, he acknowledges my presence. “Whatcha need, Little Blue Jay?”
That’s the second time he’s called me that. Why? It has to be my blue eyes.
“I can’t get into my locker.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you mind telling me my combination?”
Everyone looks from me to Zack and I’m sure they're wondering why he has the combination to my locker. It is pretty strange, but this may be the only time I’m grateful he does.
He flashes a sly smile. “10-21-36,” he spits out in front of everyone, leaving a sour expression on my face.
My forehead crinkles while I grimace. “Gee, thanks for sharing it with everyone.” Turning around, I repeat it in my head until I feel like it’s drilled in there. 10-21-36. 10-21-36. 10-21-36. Once I’m certain I won’t forget, my thoughts go back to Zack.
I shouldn’t be surprised that he held a pompous attitude in front of his friends, most guys do. Hell, girls do the same. But to brush me off like that has me feeling like gum on the bottom of his shoe. It shouldn’t faze me. I don’t even know the guy. My first encounter with him in front of the school gave me the impression that he feels superior. I suppose his help today just made me think I might have made my first friend at CCH.
It’s better this way. I don’t need friends. I just need to graduate so I can get the hell out of this town and far away from all the judgmental pricks.
Once I’m back at my locker, I spin the combination and pull the door open. This time, I grab my schedule out of my backpack and fold it up then stick it in the back pocket of my jeans, where it will remain for the rest of the day.
The bell sounds right when my locker slams shut. This is just great. Zack made it clear that the teacher of my second class is a hardass and my first impression is looking to be a negative one.
Walking as fast as my feet can take me, I slide as I round the corner of the sophomore hall. It’s a straight shot, so I’m pretty much running at this point. My eyes dart to the nameplate on the wall of Mrs. Hargrove’s class. The door begins to slide shut, so I pick up my pace. “Wait,” I say as I slide my notebook in the frame and the door, stopping it from closing. She pushes it back open and her icy blue eyes bore into mine.
“You’re late,” she deadpans.
“I’m sorry. It’s my first day and my locker is in the freshman hall. I forgot my—”
“Take a seat. This will be your only warning. I do not tolerate tardiness.”
I give her a nod of agreement and shimmy through the rows of desks, much different from the last class. These are individual desks all lined up perfectly. As I’m making my way to an empty seat in the back, I catch those familiar honey brown eyes. Zack.
I’m pretty sure he said we were parting ways. He knew I had this class with him and he also knew that I was going to be late, much to Mrs. Hargrove’s dismay. He didn’t even bother trying to help me, nor cover for me. Then again, why would he? I’m nobody to him.
Biting down on the top of his pen, he watches me with a coy look plastered on his face. I raise a brow, questioning why he seems so pleased with himself.
Is he enjoying this?
“Nadia, welcome to Psychology. As you’re aware, you are stepping into a class that began two months ago. I expect you to spend time getting caught up on what we’ve discussed thus far. Our topic of discussions this week is impulse control.” Mrs. Hargrove walks toward me and drops a book on my desk. “Page one-hundred-three. Begin taking notes, I move through things rather quickly.”
Flipping my book open to the correct page, I begin taking notes. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she moves through things quickly. I feel like my pencil is moving at lightning speed as I try to keep up.
On a good note, the subject is pretty appealing. Mrs. Hargrove talks about how people with an impulse control disorder have trouble monitoring their behaviors. She pretty much just described every eighteen-year-old guy and girl I know. I suppose, deep down, we’re all a little impulsive. At least, I am. If I had had any kind of self-control, I never would have let things go as far as they did with Jordan. It was an amazing couple of months, but in the end, our demise wasn’t worth what we had.
The first half of the day dragged on, but I survived it. Everyone has been pretty friendly for the most part. I even made a friend...I think. I don’t mean Zack. He’s just a weird guy who is becoming more and more of an enigma to me.
“I still can’t believe they put you down here,” Bree crinkles her nose as she joins me at my locker. She’s a petite thing. No taller than five-foot-three with sandy blonde curls that hang past her shoulders.
“It is what it is. At least it’s a safe distance from any drama. Freshmen are pretty timid.”
She laughs. “You obviously weren’t a freshman here. We were all born with dramatics in our blood.”
Bree and I have third period together and she was nice enough to save me a seat when our math teacher announced that there was a new girl. I was late, of course, but they were expecting me. Pretty much everyone has already heard about the new girl from East Pointe. I’ve been getting looks all day, but haven’t paid much attention to anyone.
“All set?” she asks as I slam my locker shut.
“Yep. Show me to the cafeteria. I’m starving.”
“Brace yourself. The food here is made to just hold you over until you get home. Basically, just choke it down and slam some water after every bite.”
I chuckle in response. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
‘Don't say I didn’t warn you.”
I haven’t mentioned that Zack asked me to eat lunch with him—well, demanded more like it. He didn’t exactly ask. Which is why I’m not bringing it up. If he really wants my company, he can come find me.
We step into the cafeteria full of hormonal teens who are, in fact, full of dramatics. There’s a table tossing food at one another while the lunch aides just turn a blind eye. There’s the quiet ones. And then there’s Zack. The center of attention with Lacey at his side, once again. I wonder if they’re together. They didn’t exactly give me relationship vibes in advisory, but then again, things aren’t always what they seem.
“Don’t bother.” Bree nudges my shoulder.
“Huh?” I peel my eyes away from Zack and look at her.
“Zack Wells. I saw you checking him out. Don’t bother. They don’t let anyone into their group, especially newcomers.”
Shaking it off, I keep walking toward the line. “Oh, I wasn’t—”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone checks out Zack. He’s like this jock who isn’t a jock. He runs around with them but doesn’t engage in the same...sports. He pretty much runs the show around here.”
I grab a tray from the stack and follow the line as we inch down it, waiting for our scoop of slop. “And that girl, Lacey, I think is her name, is that his girlfriend?”
“Queen Bitch? I don’t think they’re actually together, but they might as well be. A match made in hell if you ask me.”
There’s a pang in my chest and I’m not sure why. I have all the proof I need that Zack is trouble and he’s got pretty much got a girlfriend. At this point, I need to stay as far away from him as possible. For once in my life, I will not chase trouble down and beg for its company.