Okay, so here we go. First of all, I'm just doing this for fun. I know I'm not a good writer. I know, I know. But I love to tell stories, you
know? So just lemme write this. However, I'd love suggestions and comments. This is going to be my first fo-real fo-real fanfiction, so make sure
you bug the crap out of me so that I finish it. Anyway, I do not own Sky High, nor do I own anything else that may be mentioned that already exists.
Oh, and this is going to be one of those you decide stories. What does that mean? Well, that means leave me a comment on what you want to happen next.
I'll pick an idea, and that's what'll happen next chapter. Mmkay? Mmkay.
"You've changed, Effie." Will shook his head. "I thought we were friends. What the hell happened?"
"Look, could you not throw a big scene in the middle of the lunch room?" I paused. "Please?"
It had been the third time this month that he had tried to confront me about our past friendship ... our relationship. How was I suppose to forgive him for what he did? Did he expect the fact that he cheated on me to just disappear? I know he wanted it to, and so did I, but it wouldn't. Every time someone even mentioned his name, my mind just flashed back to the day he became the most popular and heroic boy in school: the day of the dance. The day he kissed Layla. The day I learned that secret relationships are a horrible, horrible thing - that love is the worst feeling in the world.
"I'm not making a scene," Will exclaimed. His tone of voice was getting harsher then normal. "I'm trying to figure out why you're being like this! Y-you're skipping classes! You failed that test in Mad Science! I saw you smoking at the park the other day!" His voice shook with anger.
"That's none of your business, Stronghold."
"Yeah, it is. Remember what we used to have? Remember -"
"Jesus, Will! Do you hear yourself? You sound like a cheap romance novel! Why don't you just -"
"This just some elaborate plan to get my focus back on you, isn't it?" Will forced a small laugh. "Wow, 'Effz. Wow."
"Like I'd want your attention!" I rolled my eyes, completely stressed out. "You say I've changed? Look in the mirror, you dousche bag! Look what you've become!"
The bell rang. I had never been more happy to get the last word.
Algebra II was a bitch, and not just because I had that class with Layla. Well, actually, I take that back. I blame it all on Layla. How I kept failing the tests because I was too busy planning how to murder her .... How she always made me look stupid when she sat across from me and bragged to everyone about the date Stronghold had taken her on the night before. Yep, it was all because of her. She made me look a suicide in a whole new light.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," the teacher announced (I paid so little attention in this class, I didn't even know his name), "because you didn't eat the substitute alive last class, I'm going to allow you to work in pairs of two for the worksheet I'm handing out. You have five minutes to pick your partner."
The class went wild.
I immeditatly looked around for that kid that could talk to animals, since he was the smartest in the class, and I was probably doomed to an F with anyone else. I noticed his familiar brown hair sitting next to a certain familiar redhead. "Damnit," I muttered to myself. I glanced around. Everyone else had a partner.
"Effie, who are you working with?" the teacher asked.
I just glared at him like he was stupid.
He smacked his lips. "Work with Lash." He motioned towards the back of the classroom, where a kid was sitting in the corner, asleep.
"You've got to be kidding me ..." I said, perhaps a little to loud. I heard a few people in the class snicker in agreement.
"Don't make him too mad, and I think you'll be fine," the teacher laughed. "You never know, maybe you two will be able to actually pass this assignment. You haven't passed one all year. And as for Lash, well, this is his second year in my class. 'Enough said."
The class burst out in laughter, and I resisted the urge to flick him off.
"Okay, everyone, get to work." And with a clap of his hands, the entire class was doing math (or socializing, depending on the group).
I rolled my eyes and stood up, pushing my chair in under the desk (with force, of course). With the sound of it hitting the table, I turned around on my heel, textbook and pencil in hand, and headed towards the back corner.
I approached him slowly, not really sure what to do at first. He was burried underneath his black jacket, a few pieces of sandy hair poking out from underneath. I decided that dropping my textbook on his head would be the best option. I slowly lifted it up, aimed, and dropped.
"What the f -"
"This the right pothead?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips.
He didn't bother to lift his head. "Depends. Who are you looking for?" he asked, obviously partically still asleep.
"Some kid named 'Lash'?"
"Yeahthat'sme ..."
"So I this is the right pothead?" I laughed. "Wow, must be my lucky day..."
"And is this the right Selena Gomez look-a-like?"
"Was that supposed to be an insult?" I asked as I pulled up a chair to the sleeping boy's desk, plopping myself in it.
"Gimme' a break. I just woke up," he said, half yawning.
"Yeah, well, are you going to do this worksheet or are we going to fail?"
"Whelp, Gomez, I guess we're gonna fail."
I know, I know. Very gay so far. Remember to comment, because you get to decide what happens next. So review! Go!