Abercrombie & Bitch

Friday, April 17, 2:35pm -- 7th Period Government

Why is it that you always have the best dreams when you’re not supposed to be sleeping?

My eyes fluttered open slowly as I heard footsteps approaching my desk and a ruler softly smacking someone’s palm. I looked up and saw Ms. Weber, my government teacher, towering above me with an angry look on her face.

“Miranda Gregory, would you please tell me what this lesson is about?” she asked with mock politeness, crossing her arms over her chest.

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. “Uh, I don’t know, how you have the hots for Mr. Flanagan?”

The class erupted in laughter behind me, but all I could do was smirk and rest my chin in my hand. Ms. Weber didn’t think it was as funny as everyone else did. She narrowed her eyes even more, to the point where they resembled slits. “Detention, Miss Gregory. For both sleeping in my class, and your rude comments.”

She walked back down the aisle, shaking her hips in a way that I think was supposed to be seductive but instead made her look like she had a big butt. I snickered behind my hand, just as I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Stealing a glance at Ms. Weber, who was back at the front of the class, I pulled it out and glanced at the text message.

I thought you said you wouldn’t fall asleep in class anymore.

I rolled my eyes. It was from one on my best friends, Donelle. She was what you’d call goodie-two-shoes. Straight-A student, and prime candidate for valedictorian. We’d met in the third grade, when she was new to the town and my other best friend, Riley, had felt bad for her, sitting all alone in the corner of the lunchroom with her My Little Pony lunchbox. I smiled a little at the memory. Donelle still had the same obnoxious teal glasses she wore back then.

I wish I was joking.

No, I texted back, glancing at the teacher to make sure I wasn’t going to get caught, I said I would try not to fall asleep. I never said I wouldn’t.

Donelle checked her phone not a minute later, and then looked up at me. She rolled her green eyes and ducked back down o her phone.

Ooh. My bad. Note sarcasm.

I smiled nonchalantly, placing my hands behind my head and leaning back in my chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bryce – my current boyfriend, though not for much longer, I suspect – scribble something down hurriedly on a piece of paper. I didn’t know what he was doing until said paper landed lightly on my desk, making a soft brushing noise that caught Ms. Weber’s attention.

“Miranda, are you passing notes?” she asked tiredly.

I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”

She obviously didn’t believe me. With confident strides, she speed-walked down the little aisle between the desks and held out her hand for the note. I rolled my eyes and gave it to her, smirking in satisfaction as I did.

“’We won our game last night’,” she read, narrowing her eyes at the paper. Everyone snickered, but she just looked puzzled. Giving up, she threw the note in the trash can. “Let’s make that two detentions, Miranda. How about that? Any more and you’ll be joining me for Saturday detention. Isn’t that fun?” She clapped her hands together and headed back to the front of the room again, writing more words on the board.

After a few minutes of silence from us – something very rare indeed – there was a knock at the door. Throwing us, perhaps most especially me, Ms. Weber went to answer it. I saw her face light up ten different shades when she recognized the person at the door.

I scowled when he walked into the room. I knew those stupid sea-water blue eyes and that golden blonde hair and that 6’3 stature. He’s the school jock. The one every girl has been lusting after since eighth grade. The one who has probably fucked all of those girls.

Zach Sinclair.

It sounds so cliché, but it’s true. Zach and I had been the best of friends when we were three or four. We played in the mud, attempted to eat worms, climbed trees, everything little boys do. Except, you know, I was a girl. I never really had anything but guy friends until I met Riley in first grade.

She was the other little girl beating up the boys. We get along perfectly.

But Zach? He was the first to be welcomed into the popular group. He didn’t even make it to fourth grade without being swept up by Bethany White, the school’s most popular girl, even at ten years old. I’m not so sure they ever did anything, so to speak, but that was the end of our friendship. Don’t get me wrong, we still greeted each other when we passed in the halls and even hung out when no one else was around, considering he lives in the house directly next door to mine.

But that changed during freshman year.

We were partnered for a Romeo and Juliet project in English. And… I don’t know. Over the course of the two-month project, he became increasingly hostile towards me, not no real reason at all. He’d scoff at every suggestion I made, and wrinkle his nose in disgust whenever I got too close. I didn’t know what happened. But I did know that whatever I said to Zach would be ridiculed, and I wasn’t going to let myself go through that.

So Zach became popular, and I became, well, a bitch.

Those too-familiar turquoise eyes swept the room in a fraction of a second before landing on me and narrowing. I glared right back, daring him to do something about it.

He didn’t. “Good afternoon, Ms. Weber,” he greeted her cheerily. “A note from the office.” He handed her a brightly-colored note, bowing lavishly and messing up his already-scruffy-looking hair. Whoever asked Zach Sinclair to be an office aide has some serious problems. Everyone knows all he does is photocopy random parts of his anatomy and then put them in teacher’s mailboxes.

Don’t even ask how I know that.

She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Zachary.” She glanced at the note and her expression turned sour. “Miranda, Mr. Flanagan would like to see you after this period.”

I groaned and smacked my head against the desk. Perfect. Just freaking perfect.

I jumped about a foot in the air as the last-period bell rang shrilly from the hallway. All of the other kids packed up their stuff and shuffled to the door while I tried to gather up my own belongings. Zach was still chatting amiably with Ms. Weber about some pep rally or another that was coming up. Being captain of the football team comes with certain ‘responsibilities’. (Uh, excuse me, responsibilities my ass).

Walking out the doorway, I bumped shoulders roughly with Zach’s. All that succeeded in doing was getting his attention as I headed down the hallway against the flow of exiting students. I saw him smirk and follow me toward the office with a triumphant look on his face.

“So, Miri,” he mocked, jogging to catch up with me, “What’d you do his time?”

I scowled, but kept my gaze straight ahead. “Sinclair, if you call me that one more time, I will make damn sure you will never be able to reproduce.” I glanced at him, and then back at the little section of the office door.

He feigned hurt, clutching his chest. “Was that a threat to my dick?”

“I don’t know how to put this nicely, but I’m not so sure you have one.” I readjusted my messenger bag and turned around to glare at him.

His smirk grew as his hands hovered dangerously close to the belt on his jeans. “You want proof?”

I turned the handle on the office door and pushed my way into the room. “I’ll pass, Sinclair. Go find some other slut to fuck.”

He glared at me again before stalking off in the opposite direction. I grinned in triumph and headed to Mr. Flanagan’s office. When I opened the door, I was just expecting it to be the vice principal.

No, what I found was my Government and English teachers, Ms. Weber and Mr. Arneson, sitting at Mr. Flanagan’s oak desk and looking at my impatiently.

“Sit down, Miranda.”