Contagious

Parker pushed her bangs out of her face as she walked into her next class (science—she was not looking forward to that). But the feeling of dread was pushed aside when she saw a familiar face in the back of the class—the face of the one-of-a-kind Paul DiGiovanni. She smiled as he stood up and she practically ran over to him.

“Parker freaking Hensley!” he exclaimed, much to his teacher's dismay (as it 'interrupted the flow of the class'). He wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning her around. “Where have you been all my life?”

Parker laughed as she set her bag down. “Where haven't I been? Let's see, I think it was—“

The teacher cleared her throat loudly. “I'm sorry to cut your little reunion short but I would like to start teaching now,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That is, if it's okay with you two,” she finished sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, sure, Ms. Young, sorry,” Paul said, still smiling, as he sat down and pulled Parker into the chair next to him.

“As you can see, we have a new student joining us,” Ms. Young said. “Ms. Hensley, would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Not exactly,” Parker mumbled but she stood up anyway. “Um, I'm Parker. And I'm a senior. Though, I'm not really new. I, uh, went to Langston until eighth grade until I left and...yeah.” She shrugged, stuffing her hands into her pockets sand sitting back down next to Paul.

A couple of girls in the back of the ground laughed and rolled their eyes, snickering and making snide comments beneath their breath. Parker should have been used to it—and she was to an extent. However she still wasn't immune to the sting. She was used to seeing it on the Internet, reading it in magazines, hearing about it on radio programs. She wasn't used to having it right to her face.

Paul reached over and patted her shoulder. “There, there.”

Ms. Young cleared her throat again. “If you two keep talking, I'm going to have to separate you.”

Paul nodded. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, acting as if he was zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

Parker tried to pay attention to the lecture, she really did, but she hated science. Ten minutes into the lecture and she was about to fall asleep. She felt Paul nudge her arm and point to the desk, not too subtly either, and her eyes fell onto the folded slip of paper on her desk.

Why were you w/ the principal in your last class?

How did you know?

Martin.

Parker frowned and gripped her pen a little bit tighter. Of course Martin couldn't keep his mouth shut. Secrecy was never one of his strong points. In the course of an hour, she had already seen enough of him to last another three years.

Teach tried to take my blackberry when it's not his to take. It belongs to fbr so I need it.

Ha ha that doesn't surprise me. Always so bossy ;)

Pish! How so?

You never let anyone use your stuff.

Because it's mine!

Selfish.

Jerk.

We all missed you.

Parker felt her mouth go dry and was thankful that the bell rang, signaling the end of class, before she had to respond. She didn't know what to say. Part of her had missed Boston, but a bigger part of her enjoyed seeing the world. Just like a part of her missed all the friends she left behind but a bigger part of her loved her band and all their fans too much to let that stop her.

“So how was touring?” Paul asked, gathering his books in his hands.

“Amazing,” she told him, smiling. “It's just...so much fun. You can't even describe how great it is. Nothing can compare to performing, you know?”

Paul laughed. “I believe it. So, uh,” he started awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he lead her out of the room. “Have you talked to Martin yet?”

She shrugged, tossing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Not really,” she said quietly. She recognized some sort of tone in his voice but she couldn't place what it was exactly. She found herself wondering what he knew about her and Martin's past. How much did Martin share with his friends?

“Will you?” he asked. “You guys were best friends.”

“Things change,” Parker said, reaching for her schedule. “Looks like I've got senior lit next. Where's room 311?”

Paul pointed her in the right direction down the hall. “If you have Spalding, good luck. She has, like, ten papers due a semester. It's brutal.”

“I like writing,” she told him, shoving her schedule back into her pocket before checking her phone (three new emails and two missed text messages). “Thanks, Paul.”

“Wait, pause,” he said. “Did you really say that this school sucks worse than a Fall Out Boy show?” he asked.

Parker laughed. “Yeah. Why?”

“Um, aren't you on Pete Wentz's label?”

“Doesn't mean I have to like the guy or his band. He's a weasel but I owe him everything,” she said, shrugging. “Right down here, right?” she asked, pointing down the hall.

He nodded, watching her walk away, resigning himself to the fact that he was never going to get a straight answer out of her, not when it came to Martin.

+

Parker sucked in a deep breath as she walked past Martin (and his girlfriend) as they were standing outside the door to her next class. One more reason why she already hated high school: the building was so small, she was bound to run into everyone she didn't want to see at some point. Though, it was bigger than a tour bus... Martin's girlfriend sent her a look that could only be described as “nasty.” Rolling her eyes, Parker walked into the classroom and took a seat in the middle of the room. Pulling out her phone, she read her emails quickly.

“Still think you're an exception to the rule, ginger?”

Parker looked up to see Martin's girlfriend staring her down. She shrugged. “Not particularly.”

She smirked. “You're in my seat.”

“Okay. And?”

“Move.”

Parker laughed. “Ask me nicely and I'll think about it. By the way, I'm Parker. So if you're going to try to be rude, shouldn't you at least know my name?”

“I don't need to know your name to be rude.”

“Dallas, just sit here. We saved you a seat.”

Dallas turned around, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, and walked away from Parker without a response. She sat down next to her friend Irina, setting her books on her desk. “New girls always think they own the place.”

Parker rolled her eyes. She knew Martin was a boy of bad judgment (as most boys were) but she couldn't believe he was dating her. But as she had told Paul earlier—things change, people change, so it might not have been that big of a surprise to someone who had never left. “Hey, Dallas?” she asked.

Dallas looked over at her, blue eyes burning. “Yes?”

“Cheerleader?”

She nodded. “And?”

“Figures,” Parker said, shrugging.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dallas snapped.

“Nothing,” Parker said innocently. “Just know your type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Bitches.”

Dallas' mouth dropped open. “Excuse you?”

Parker smiled, pointing to the clock just as the bell rang. “Fancy that. Class is starting.”

+

“That girl is such a bitch,” Dallas fumed, slamming her books on the lunch table in front of her, causing Martin to jump.

“Who?” he asked, setting his water bottle back down.

Dallas frowned. “That new girl.”

Martin bit his lip. “She's not technically new, Dal.”

“So you're on her side now? Do you even know what she said to me?” she asked, growing more upset.

Martin shook his head. “No. No, I didn't say I was on her side. And what did she say to you?” He honestly didn't care—he knew Dallas was a sensitive girl (and possibly deserved it?)—but he appeased her anyway. It wasn't worth the fight he knew it would cause if he didn't.

“She called me a bitch.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. It didn't completely work.

“You think that's funny?” Dallas asked.

“No. No, not at all,” Martin said. “It's just, uh...”

“Just, uh, what?”

“Sounds exactly like Parker,” he said quietly, watching as she walked into the lunchroom, not the least bit bothered that everyone's conversations died down as their eyes landed on her. Her frowned when Paul walked in after her, throwing an arm around her shoulder, and leading her to their table.

“You guys mind if Parker sits with us during lunch?” Paul asked.

Martin knew that tone. It was Paul's tone that indicated 'I'm going to ask you but my mind is already made up so there's no point in arguing since it's not really a question.' “Maybe that's not the best idea,” Martin said quietly, attempting to subtly nod towards his girlfriend.

Parker shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Don't want to interrupt your little, uh, lunch group here. Thanks anyway, Paul. I should head to the library anyway—I have to email my manager back about some interview and I don't feel like being caught with my phone again.”

Dallas scoffed.

Parker looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “Problem?”

“Yes,” Dallas said. “I don't like your tone—trying to make us jealous with your 'interviews' and 'photo shoots.' Really?” she asked.

She shook her head. “Actually, I'm not trying to make anyone jealous. That's not my style.”

“We don't care about your little band and we don't care about your little obligations,” Dallas said. “You need to realize, honey, that no one cares how famous you are. This is Langston High and people are going to make your life a living hell if you keep bragging.”

“First, I'm not bragging. Second of all, 'people' are going to make my life hell...or you?” she asked.

Dallas shrugged, messing with her hair. “Interpret what you will.”

Parker laughed. “I'm not afraid of you,” she told her before looking back at Paul. “Text me later, bub.”

Paul nodded. “Sure, sure,” he said, watching as she left the cafeteria.

Dallas was practically fuming as she sat down. “I hate that bitch.”

Martin shook his head.

Paul smiled. “Really? Because I think I'm in love with her.”

Martin snapped his head up, frowning. He knew Paul was saying it to antagonize Dallas (they were never going to get along and he grew comfortable with that weeks ago) but he was still upset. Paul knew about their past, he knew everything. So how could someone who claimed to be his best friend joke about being in love with his girl? But he couldn't stop the voice inside his head:

Ugh, get over yourself, Martin. She's not your girl anymore.