Allison pulled at some paper towels and ran them underneath some water. I didn't have a chance in hell of cleaning up these clothes enough to look respectable throughout the rest of the day. Not that I’d looked respectable beforehand. But at least I’d looked better than this. She handed me a soaked paper towel before getting one for herself. Together, we wiped the soup off my shirt.
She shrugged. “I mean, at least it’s a black shirt. Sit in the right lighting and people won’t even know it’s there.”
I sighed. “Yeah, well, they’ll still smell it coming from a mile away.”
“Good thing tomato soup smells good?”
Somehow—like she always did—Allison got me to laugh. My grimace became a grin, and soon we were gabbing while trying to clean off our clothes. I sighed as I racked my brain, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do for the rest of the day.
Then it dawned on me.
“We need to go to my locker,” I said.
Allison paused. “Do you have a change of clothes there?”
I nodded. “I mean, they’re not the best clothes. But look at what I’m already wearing. I have P.E. this year because I skipped it my freshman year.”
She smiled. “Your gym clothes are in your locker?”
“Will you come with me?”
“I’ll do you one better. Give me your locker number and combination. I’ll go get it for you.”
“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”
She winked. “I have a tendency to have good ideas every once in a while.”
And as I rattled off what she needed to know, she slipped out of the bathroom. Leaving me to stand in the mirror and take a good, hard look at myself.
Something I hated doing.
Especially if I was alone.
4
Clinton
With my sunglasses sinking down the bridge of my nose, I tossed my jacket over my shoulder. History. I hated history class. Any history class, really. But especially world history. The fuck did I care what happened on the other side of the planet over a hundred years ago? Didn’t affect me now. But, for some reason, it was required of me to know.
I didn’t mind being late to class, though.
The teacher pursed her lips. “How nice of you to join us, Mr. Clarke.”
I grinned. “Pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Christ.”
“Take a seat, and know it’s your spot for the rest of the semester.”
I scanned the room, taking in the pathetic crowd of losers that had already been in class for damn near twenty minutes. And as my eyes gravitated toward the front corner desk, there she sat. Rae Cleaver. In a pair of bright orange shorts, a white tank top, and some random jacket tossed over her shoulders. My smile grew positively out of control. She’d changed into her gym clothes. And oh, was it a sight to behold. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Rae in anything other than pants. I mean, did the idiot not take P.E. her freshman year to get it out of the way?
Figures. Stupid as hell, just like her mother.
I snorted as I made my way toward the back row. I sure as hell wasn’t taking the seat behind Rae. I mean, I didn’t want to smell the musty stench of her house all damn period. I flopped myself in the back corner desk, where I pushed my sunglasses up my face. And as that stuck up, preppy little Allison leaned in toward Rae, I saw the two of them whisper to one another. Exchanging secrets about me.
I mean, it was painfully obvious they were talking about me.
Thanks for making me the center of your world, ladies.
The teacher clapped her hands. “All right. Now that our daily distraction is over, let’s get back to the syllabus.”
I raised my hand. “Mrs. Christ?”
“You can get a syllabus at the end of class. Take notes while you’re here, and don’t be late to my class again.”
I heard giggles rising up from the front corner of the classroom. Allison, with her bright blond hair, and Rae. With her plain brown hair, her annoying little freckles, and her dark eyes. Like blackened pits of despair that reeked of the desolate wasteland called ‘her neighborhood.’
I watched her throughout class. I watched Rae tuck her foot up under her thigh, splaying it out more against her seat. The teacher rambled on about shit I didn’t care about as Rae’s frizzy ponytail swung against her back. That jacket slipped from her shoulders, revealing a softly-toned strength underneath them that called for a second glance.
Or a really fucking long stare.
Maybe she’s not all pig fat, after all.
“Mr. Clarke?”
I whipped my head to the front of the classroom as Mrs. Christ called my name.
“Yep?”
The teacher sighed. “Can you answer for the class why world history is so important?”
I licked my lips. “Uh, because it’s important to know thine enemy?”
Some of the class giggled, but all Rae did was stare at the whiteboard, studiously ignoring me, even though I knew she felt me staring. I knew she felt my presence. I knew she wanted to look back, too. Allison kept peeking. Snickering. Shaking her head at me, like some disapproving mother. I guessed she was preparing for her future role as a stay-at-home soccer mom, ready to punish her kids with a swift blow of her angry gaze.
If her future husband was lucky enough, she’d put out a decent blowjob every once in a while.
“Mr. Clarke,” the teacher said curtly.
I sighed. “What?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tuck in the attitude and consider this a reflection of your daily grade. What’s the importance of world history?”
“I take it my answer wasn’t an acceptable one.”
Allison scoffed. “Obviously, idiot.”
The teacher frowned. “Miss Denver, let me handle it.”
I grinned. “Then handle it a little better this time around.”
The class oohed, and it caused me to smile widely. I loved getting underneath my teachers’ skin. Why they kept promoting me up grades, I’d never understand. Why they kept giving me grades I never earned, I’d never get. Maybe they didn’t want to put up with me anymore. Or maybe my parents had given so much money to this damn place that they felt they couldn't fail me. Either way, it wasn’t as if my parents were in town to do anything about it.
I mean, they had at least a day’s worth of flights ahead of them before they could even think about popping me upside my head.
Mrs. Christ nodded curtly. “Is there anyone else that wants to join Mr. Clarke in a daily failing grade?”
I shrugged. “Not my fault you don’t care about your enemies.”
“That’s enough, Clinton.”
Rae giggled. “Be careful, he doesn’t like that name very much.”
The class laughed along with her and I shot her a death glare. I wanted to wrap my hand up in that damn ponytail of hers and tug until she cried for me to stop. Who the fuck did she think she was, embarrassing me like that?
Oh, she’d get what was coming to her soon enough.
“Miss Cleaver, one more outburst from you and you’ll be heading to the principal’s office.”
I snickered. “I don’t think she’s ever been there before. Might be a fun field trip.”
Allison turned around. “Your parents around to sign your permission slip, Clint?”
I glared. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your mother when she’s getting home from my father’s bed later?”
“That’s enough!” Mrs. Christ exclaimed.
And then Rae turned around. “Put a fucking sock in it, asshole.”
Part of the class was dying with laughter, and the other part stared in horror. I smiled deviously at her as our history teacher walked over to her desk, tapping on it twice. I knew that signal all too well. It was practically my mantra during my high school years. One tap means a warning, two taps means the principal’s office. And when Mrs. Christ leveled her eyes with me, I held up my hands.
“I’m going. I’m going. I know how this works,” I said.
The teacher sighed. “And you’d do well to try and straighten yourself out. Because unlike the rest of your teachers, I’m not afraid of your parents. I’ve got no issues failing you right out of my class and holding you back a year if that’s what it takes to straighten you out.”
Rae scoffed. “Good luck with that.”
I feigned shock. “Why, Miss Cleaver. You’re already in hot water. Whatever did you say that for?”
“I’ll put my fist through your face if you don’t stop.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Mrs. Christ raised her voice. “Principal’s office. Now!”
Rae bit down on the inside of her cheek in frustration and I blew her a kiss. I slid my sunglasses down on my face, watching her boil over with anger as I tossed her a playful wink. Oh, having history together was going to be fun. Especially right after our lunch break. Back-to-back moments where I got to pick and poke and prod until she finally exploded.
And maybe, I could get her in the principal’s office a few more times with me.
I walked over to the classroom door and held it open for her. I bowed deeply as she walked through, and I felt her bump my forehead with her hip. Hard. The motion made the class cackle with laughter again, but it stunned me for a split second. The softness of her skin. The warmth of her hip. The strength behind it as I stumbled back a bit.