Away from Troy and this classroom and my family…
“Carmichael is just letting me borrow a pencil,” Troy answered for both of us. “I forgot mine.”
Mr. Ferris cleared his throat, clearly annoyed, but thankfully went back to preaching about prepositions.
I leaned forward and quietly rifled through my backpack until I found another pencil. The led was dull which made me happy. See, I wasn’t allergic. I just needed the right opportunity.
I held it out to Troy.
He hesitated a second before taking it. Our fingers brushed and I forced myself not to drop the stupid thing. I was acting like a baby. I could admit that. But Troy got under my skin like few other people could.
No, that was a lie.
Most people got under my skin these days. It wasn’t Troy’s fault I was pissed off at the entire world. And especially jocks on athletic scholarships with perfect lives and perfect faces.
I wasn’t allergic to happiness, just his specific brand of it.
He leaned over for the third time. Our shoulders touched, but he didn’t pull back. “Thanks, Carmichael. I owe you one.”
This time I did roll my eyes. And when Troy still hadn’t pulled back, I jerked forward hard enough that he couldn’t help but get the message.
I didn’t look at him, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him raise both hands in surrender. And smile. That damn slow smile.
Class dragged on. An hour and a half of prepositions was too much for any sane person to take.
I took whatever notes I could, but mostly to keep from looking at the letter still stashed in my notebook.
He cheated on me.
He cheated on me.
He cheated on me.
The accusation rolled around in my head like a pinball. Every time I got to the end of the sentence it hit a bonus lane and zinged back into extra time.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I wondered if she could be telling the truth.
My dad was like the superman of dads. He was always home for dinner. He had a great job at the bank. And golfed every Saturday morning with all the other country club dads in town.
He was as predictable as my mom.
But why would my mom make that up?
I had zoned out completely and nothing could have brought my mind back to class. Nothing except the dreaded and unfortunate, “Partner up!”
I immediately glanced to my right, but I was too late. Condren—I didn’t know his first name—had already paired up with Dell.
My eyes scanned the classroom as quickly as possible, but it was no use. I hadn’t exactly bloomed socially this year.
“Partners?”
I slowly turned to Troy. What other choice did I have? Glancing back at Mr. Ferris, I took a resigned breath. No. No way. Not even I was desperate enough to partner with the teacher.
Troy was smiling again. It must be the morning practice. Something about early morning oxygen must make him so happy.
Borderline euphoric.
It was disgusting.
