He looks me in the eye and I feel a shiver course down my spine.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer because the bell rings and I’m forced to go to class.
But the look in his eyes? It stays with me.
“We’re doing vocabulary words,” Sasha hisses beside me under her breath. “What is this? Second grade?”
She looks down at the paper with a list of vocabulary words that we need to draw a line to the correct definition for. Sociology is definitely worth every agonizing minute spent in this class before we can go home.
“It could be worse.”
“I’m bored,” she whines.
Someone hushes her. Across the room the teacher lifts her eyes from her desk, shooting daggers at us.
Mrs. Kauffman is mildly terrifying. She’s probably in her late forties, with a blunt bob past her ears, and thick bangs. She has these beady eyes that seem to stare right through you and there’s a permanent scowl glued to her face—unless her son, who also works at the school, pops in. Then she’s all smiles.
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss under my breath.
I might’ve walked out of our history class last week, but this is not one I’m willing to rock the boat in. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Kauffman has a dungeon somewhere and gets her shit and giggles out of torturing her students.
I finish the worksheet and turn it in, moving on to the next assignment. I spend the rest of the period looking up the same definitions we matched in an actual dictionary instead of Googling it and write them all down.
It’s time consuming and tedious.
I’m beginning to wish I’d fought harder to get my GED. Sage had insisted I finish school and I’d wanted to make him happy.
Regardless, I’m here now and I have to make the best of it.
I manage to get everything done before the bell rings, dismissing us for the day. Several people groan, because they’re not as lucky and will have to do it as homework.
Sasha and I walk down the long hall together, descending the stairs to the main floor.
“I thought senior year was going to be great,” she whines, the sound of lockers slamming closed echoing around us. “Parties. Football games. Basketball games. More parties. And no school work. So far, it’s none of that. It’s only week two. I won’t survive this.”
I laugh lightly. To my ears it sounds forced and fake but Sasha doesn’t seem to notice.
“Somehow I think you’ll manage.”
Her curly blonde hair sways as she jumps the last two stairs, landing solidly on the floor.
I descend the last two like a normal person.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in Statistics.” She sticks out her tongue playfully, crossing her eyes at the same time.
“Bye.” I wave as she heads in the opposite direction to the student parking lot while I walk straight ahead for the bus loop.
I only make it a couple of feet when I hear, “Meadows! Wait up!”
I stop, tightening my hold on my backpack straps.
Ansel strolls leisurely through the crowd of students. They part around him. He doesn’t even have to fight against them. It’s kind of incredible.
He slings his arm over my shoulders when he reaches me.
“Are you riding the bus?”
“Well, I don’t drive, so … yes.”