The group behind are the loudest.
I shoot them a dirty look.
“Five points for the squeal,” a dude with a green beanie declares.
“All right,” calls the teacher. “Settle down.”
She shoots an unimpressed look at me. Like I’m causing trouble on purpose.
I struggle to my feet with as much dignity as I can muster, my cheeks hot. I smooth my hands over my skirt and freeze when I feel the unpleasant stickiness that followed me from the ground.
The shrieking from the girls in the row behind me increases. One guy’s face is red from laughing at me.
I grit my teeth and carefully swipe my fingers over the wad of gum stuck to my skirt, shuddering.
“Eugh.”
“Here.”
A girl further down the row with hair the blue-gray color of a thundercloud offers me a napkin.
“Thanks.”
I take it and clean what I can from my skirt.
“That seat’s been broken for two years, but the school hasn’t fixed it. You’d think they would with how much money they have, but no. Seat 143. Remember it, you don’t want to run into the same problem again. People usually use it to dump their gum off instead of finding a trash can.”
“Seat 143,” I echo. “Got it. I appreciate it, thank you.”
When I look up to make a joke about getting myself into a sticky situation, she’s bent over her work, nail-bitten fingers sticking out of her baggy sleeves. She doesn’t have the blazer, just the white shirt and the green plaid skirt.
I scoot a few chairs down and subtly check the integrity of the chair before I take a seat. The catty group one row back cackle.
r /> The teacher's level of caring has plummeted. She's absorbed in her phone.
“Those fireworks were epic on Friday,” the guy in the beanie says. I sense his hat is against uniform regulations, the same ones I’m breaking with my boots. “And my boy got with Kira in the lake.”
“Shut up, Kira was with me all night,” a girl counters. She blows a bubble with her gum and pops it. “Zach wishes he could hit that, but I’m pretty sure she’s dating Mallory now.”
Beanie dude groans, but I can’t tell if it’s in resignation or envy.
They’re talking about Lucas’ party. My lips thin as I pull out the math homework. I’m skimming over the worksheet when my attention snags on their gossiping again.
“Saint’s latest chick is hot as fuck though,” beanie guy mutters.
I can’t stop my shoulders from stiffening and clench my pen until my fingertips go white. Turning my head just enough without letting on that I’m listening, I nearly startle.
He’s watching me. They know, or they heard, or they saw firsthand at the party.
“Please,” bubblegum girl scoffs. “She’ll be over in two seconds. Marissa said she hung out at Lucas’ house, like, all weekend. They’re totally going to be prom king and queen this year.”
“Marissa’s got a dope ass, but this girl right here,” beanie dude pauses long enough to shuffle down the row until he’s right behind me. He prods me. “This girl let Lucas get wild.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn around to block them out. “Do you mind? I’m trying to work on an assignment.”
Hot air coasts over my ear and I flinch. His other arm comes over the seat, showing me his phone.
“Girl, I’ve got the proof right here. You like to get freaky.”