"Miss. Ride," Mr. Oswald calls from the front of the class, surprising me. I pick up my head and look at him, my neck stiff from bending over the desk so much.
He holds out an aged hand and wiggles it at me. "Come here."
His deep voice booms out over the silent classroom, and most of the kids in the class glance up from their textbooks at their desks to openly gawk at me as I slowly slide out of my seat and sidle up to his desk. I shoot everyone an icy look, as if to say, "What the hell are you looking at? Go back to your books and mind your own business."
There are various papers strewn across Mr. Oswald's desk, pencils, pens, even a couple of photos, most of them containing the smiling face of a pretty middle aged woman with light crimson curls, straight, white teeth and sparkling blue eyes.
Mr. Oswald clears his throat and I snap my attention back to him, a sorry expression on my face. His leathery hand is pushing his graying brown hair away from his wrinkled face, and his chocolate brown eyes are exhausted. He smiles tiredly at me and hands me a thick stack of packets. I glance down at the one on the top of the stack.
"Can you hand these out?" he asks me, his fingers fiddling with a pen. Confused, I nod once, wondering why he asked me, of all people, and turn around to face everybody else.
Slapping a packet on the first desk I come to, I maneuver in and out of the rows, thrusting packets at everyone, ignoring the little soft cries of "heys!" and "don't throw that at me!"
My heart speeds up annoyingly and a goofy, sappy grin that should be illegal spreads across my face as my feet approach the corner of the room where my desk sits. I gently, more gently than I did for the other students, mind you, lay the last packet on the desk in front of me and smile at the boy sitting there. "Here ya go Fang," I mutter, my voice unusually high pitched. I mentally curse myself, curse the way how very un-Max like I get when I like a boy.
He barely even glances at me as he takes the bundle of papers and tucks them in his binder. I just stand there, smiling at him like a dork, barely taking note of the fact that I look like an idiot.
He looks at me finally after a few seconds, his dark eyes guarded. "Um, thanks," he says quietly to me, and then drops his gaze back to his textbook.
I blink stupidly a few times, my face heating up and rush to my desk behind him, burying my head in my arms in mortification.
God, why must I make such a fool of myself around him?
Why couldn't I be normal?
"Maxie," Jordan purrs, licking his cupcake. Purple frosting is coating his plump upper lip and I laugh as he wipes it away as soon as I tell him. He glances discreetly around the cafeteria to see if anyone was looking and takes a bite out of the cupcake.
"Calm down. No one saw,"I say, grinning. My hand swipes up a French fry from my tray and I push it into my mouth, trying not to grimace. The school lunches are disgusting, yes. But my mom refuses to let me pack my lunch after the time I threw my lunch box at Jimmy Davis in fourth grade.
To be honest, he was a bastard.
I would normally try to snatch something off Jordan's lunch, but since he's a hungry douche who only packs cupcakes, roast beef sandwiches, juice boxes and pretzels, I don't.
"How's Fangie Fang?" he teases me, taking another enormous bite out of his cupcake and leaning forward so that his elbows rest on the table. I regret telling him about my crush on Fang, like I do almost every day, but he's my best and only friend in this hell hole they call a school, so I can't really complain.
I frown at him and blush. "Shut up. Although there was one thing in Math..." I trail off, suddenly uncomfortable. I glance over to his table, where he sits by himself. I observe that he's eating a school lunch, and I watch his hands as he rips his lettuce into shreds, piling it up into a pile on the side of his tray.
And then he looks up and our eyes meet.
I drop my gaze immediately and stare at the table, peeking up at Jordan, who is obviously oblivious to the exchange that had just happened.
"What happened in Math?" Jordan asks me, his face curious.
"Nothing, never mind. Nothing happened." I guess that was kind of true. It was just me swooning over him as usual. He didn't swoon back. So really, nothing happened.
"Mhm, do you think I should have vanilla or chocolate, Maxie?" he asks me, opening up his paper bag with his name scrawled on there in feminine cursive. He pulls out a carefully decorated vanilla cupcake, and an oozing delicious chocolate one.
I shrug, not caring. His choice of cupcakes doesn't really concern me. At all, actually.
"Criss says hi," Jordan says to me, and I smile. "I miss him though," he adds sadly after a moment, and we sit there in silence.
"When did you talk to him?" I ask him after a minute.
"Last night. He called me and said he wanted to chat," Jordan's face is beaming and sad at the same time. I pat his arm reassuringly and he gives me a tiny smile.
"It's okay, big guy." I forcefully shove another French fry into my mouth.
A huge group of football players pass by. One, I think his name was Dylan or something similar to that, taps the back of Jordan's head rather hardly and says "fag" really loudly to his idiotic frriends. They walk away laughing. Jordan rolls his eyes, like he's used to it. I stare after them with a rather frosty expression on my face.
Yes, Jordan is gay.
No, that doesn't mean anyone should make fun of him.
"Max!" Ella and her friend, Nudge, come running into my room. I yank my iPod headphones out of my ears and put down the comic book I had been reading. I glare at them, but they ignore it. Ella collapses next to me on my bed.
"Take us to the mall!" they chant. Nudge is jumping up and down excitedly and Ella is bouncing up and down on my bed.
"No," I say firmly. The mall wasn't my favorite place in the world. Right next to Pete's Lobster Shack-the place where couples hang out and are stuck together like glue. Literally. You cannot go to the bathroom without finding some couple making out against the wall. It's frankly disgusting.
"Please Max? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please? I really need to get that sweater that's on sale at Justice. Pleaseeeeee. You'll be my favorite sister forever," Ella pleads.
I stare at her. "I'm your only sister!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air.
She looks down. "Oh yeah. Never mind. Just plllleeeeaaaaseeee?" She pleads again. Seeing my stubborn expression, she elbows Nudge in the stomach and they both whip out the Bambi eyes.
I sigh. "Fine. But only for three hours. Three hours only," I strain to say over their delighted squeals. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair and down my face.
"Yay!" Nudge squeals.
"We're gonna go get ready. Meet us by the car in fifteen minutes, okay Max?" Without stopping to hear my answer, they skip out the door and rush to their rooms.
"Whatever," I mutter to myself.