CHAPTER EIGHT
“Ithink I need to start going to church,” I tell Audrey and Isla as we make our way to Independent Study—which we lucked out on and got together.
“Why?” Audrey asks, clearly unfazed by my record-breaking shitfest of a day—and it’s only fourth period.
“Why?” I ask with disbelief. Then, of course, in walks Jack—no, not Jack. Leo. Leonard Beckett. That’s what Mr. Wilson called him in first hour, and Mr. Jockstrap asked to please be called Leo. I rolled my eyes and wished I could punch him in the mouth… this… this… imposter!
“Oh hell,” Isla murmurs and I just sigh. He sits diagonal from us with a group of his buddies—also jocks. He doesn’t even look over, not that I expected him to—or wanted him to. He can fuck right off.
“I am so pissed off,” I admit. Both girls look over. “He totally played me with his Mr. Nice Guy act when he’s nothing but a judgmental, social-climbing jock who cheats on his girlfriend!”
Their eyes get big and I realize I said that a little loud. I hear a hiss of breath to my right, but I am over it. I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass if that hurt his poor fragile ego.
“Cheater. Liar. Imposter.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Ja—Leo bang his fist on the desk in anger and all three of us jump, startled.
“You’re getting him all upset,” Audrey mocks. “Poor, poor baby.”
I lean close to Audrey and Isla. “Now do you see why I willneverdate a jock?”
“Aw, c’mon now. One bad guy doesn’t make the rest of us bad,” a guy I don’t know tells me just before he takes a seat behind me.
“And you are?” I ask.
“Elan.”
“Jillie.”
“Nice to meet you.” He nods to Audrey and Isla. “Ladies.”
“Do you know this guy?” I ask them.
“Sure do. As you can see from the colors he’s wearing, he’s from SBH,” Isla informs me.
“Oh, a normal one.” I breathe with gratitude and he chuckles.
“That bad?” he asks.
“Worse.”
“Yikes. But look at the bright side.”
I lift a brow. “There’s a bright side?”
“Always,” he begins. “Things can only go up from here, right?”
Just then, Ellen walks in.
I drop my head onto my desk, letting my forehead bang, not caring that I’ll have a red mark and a bump.
“You just had to ask,” Audrey chastises.
“I’m sorry, Jillie,” Elan tells me.
I nod, not lifting my head. “S’okay. I expect it all to go just like this for at least the rest of the day. Worse and worse and worse,” I mumble.
“Where are you from? Originally,” he asks.
