“What?”
“He’s scared of you.”
“What a loser.”
“He’s just a shy kid. He probably feels intimidated by your confidence, that’s all.”
“Maybe…but he just seems weird to me.”
“Have you thought about the fact that he might think you’re weird, too? Besides, what do you even mean by ‘weird’?”
“I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about this. You don’t get it.”
“Sorry, but it’s been a while since I was fifteen. I’m just trying to see it from your perspective.”
“Forget it. Don’t force yourself.” She sinks onto the bed and turns her back to me, so I decide to step through the doorway and walk over to the window. I lean back against the windowsill and let my gaze fall onto her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do I have to?”
“What?”
“Do I have to do those lessons?”
“If you want to pass the year, then yes.”
“I don’t like how he makes me feel.”
“How?”
“Just forget it.” She lowers her eyes to her hands, picking at the chipped, black nail polish.
“Do you want me to try and talk to the head? Maybe we can find another solution.”
“No, please don’t. You’ve already done enough damage.”
“Me? What have I done?”
“Well, last Friday, you made us stalk and spy on a happy couple.”
“Happy? I wouldn’t call them that.”
“How do you know? I thought they looked good together.”
I push away from the window and sit down next to her on the bed. Skylar looks at me, horrified.
“Looked good? Those two?”
“Well, the headmistress isn’t bad – apart from those lame skirts she always wears.”
“What’s so lame about her skirts?”
“They’re boring. They’re always the same colour, too.”
But they hug her arse in a way that should be declared illegal.
“And those glasses, and the way she always scrapes her hair back…”
