Next morning, the battle with Lily-the-Loon began in earnest.
First, someone tripped me getting on the bus. Usually I didn't fall for that, but I'd had to soak in the tub until two in the morning, so I was a bit on the fuzzy and numb side. I didn't fall, just managed to grab two of the seats, haul myself back upright, and kick the perpetrator in the shin.
Of course, it was some wimpy guy I didn't know. He yelped when my engineer booted foot hit his shin bone.
The bus ride sucked.
I sat staring out the window, thinking about Jack Knightly while the air conditioner feebly battled the end-of-summer desert heat. Shimmers wavered above the pavement everywhere I looked.
Jack was a puzzle. After he'd stated his un-taken status, he'd clammed up like a... well, like a clam, and refused to say another word. But he wasn't dating Lily, wasn't dating one of the Princess Posse, and was about as gay as the school flagpole, which shot straight up into the sky like a steel spike. So a single, hot guy was hanging around Lily Whitmoor for what reason?
He seemed nice enough. So why associate with a psycho and therefore end up labeled psycho by association?
Something smacked into the back of my head.
Gritting me teeth, struggling not to just fly off the handle and punch the nearest Lily lackey, I reached up behind my head and touched something sticky and slimy. As my fingers probed it, a horrified realization settled into my brain.
There was gum in my hair.
Freaking gum.
It took me the rest of the bus ride to pull it out. The wad came away fairly easily since someone had only thrown it at me, not smashed it onto my head. But in the end, I had to rip out a bunch of individual hairs coated in sticky pink and mint green tack. Rage made my movements jerky. The stinging pain in my scalp made my eyes burn.
As if things couldn't get any worse, someone had the bright idea to shove me when I was getting off the bus. I fell and scraped my palms on the sidewalk.
When I sprang back up, foaming at the mouth and ready to start pulling some hair, there was no one close enough to designate them a target. In fact, everyone made a point to stay away from me as I trudged to my locker.
Maybe Blondie had put the word out.
Because I was expecting it, the green slime that exploded out of my locker missed me. Good thing I hadn't gotten any text books or put anything else in there yesterday. The only thing that was spattered with jade glop was the locker itself, the locker beneath mine, and the floor. I hid behind the aluminum door, chewing on my tongue and thinking really hard. In less than one hour, four really annoying things had happened to me. I had no doubt in my mind that they were orchestrated by Lily.
"That was smart thinking."
I knew that voice.
Jack Knightly lounged against the lockers on the other side of my personal disaster zone, hands in the pockets of his navy blue designer jeans. His button-down white shirt was open at the neck, showcasing his chest. No chest hair, big plus. I wanted a boyfriend, not a German shepherd.
"I've played the prank game before," I told him, shutting my locker gently. The movement belied my fury, but slamming a locker generally just got me clocked in the nose by a big metal door.
Not on my agenda today.
"Watch out in history," he told me, showing his teeth in a cocky grin. Shrugging languidly, he shoved off of the lockers and strode away.
Memo: wipe off drool before going to history class.