The clock over the door read 9:12, and Jerry's seat was still conspicuously empty. Carrie had briefly thought about taking it for herself. After all, it was hers first. But, over the course of the first month of school, the two had settled into a pattern. Jerry would arrive at Mrs. Rossbeck's room first, secure her seat in the back of the room, and wait for Carrie, who rarely beat her to class, but seldom arrived more than a minute after. To break the pattern now seemed wrong.

Carrie's attention was drawn to the sound of footsteps in the hall. Although it was unlikely, given how late it was, that she would up at all, the girl held onto the hope that Jerry had finally arrived. After all, she was beginning to feel vulnerable on her right side.

Her hopes were dashed when, instead of the fuzzy capped face of her desk neighbor, George Clement appeared in the doorway. He'd been running errands for another teacher, who had already spoken to Mrs. Rossbeck to excuse his tardiness. George scanned the room and set his eye on the desk. Jerry's desk. He smiled as he took his seat and wasted no time before getting down to the task of making her profoundly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Carrie," he said flirtatiously, sporting a saccharine grin. He leaned in even closer. "I'm a lucky guy to get to sit next to you."

George was a handsome young man, and one whom Carrie might have been interested in had he not taken the same attitude towards her as many of her peers, that she was a pudding face, good for little more than a joke. He often made passes at her in the hall, whistles, dog howls, calling her "gorgeous," all delivered with an extra heavy helping of irony. This was no different.

"Carrie," he said, now in a whisper, so as not to catch the attention of the teacher. "How about we skip out of study hall, huh? I can take you out behind the building and show you some moves."

Carrie pushed her books to the right side of her desk in an attempt to block out George's mocking advances. He moved the books aside.

"Awe, don't be like that," he crooned. "You'll like it. I promise."

"No I wouldn't," she whispered, scooting her chair as far away as the legs of her desk would allow.

"What's the matter," he asked. "Scared Jesus will find-Ow!"

They both wiped around in confusion. Something had met with George's forehead at a very high velocity. On the floor a desk away, a small piece of densely folded paper came to rest. George noticed it and picked it up.

"What's going on," asked Rossbeck, raising her eyes from her book for the first time since the first bell had rung.

"Someone's flicking stuff at me," said George, holding up the improvised projectile.

Mrs. Rossbeck humphed loudly, put down her book, and stood up.

"This is a quiet study hall," she said emphatically. "Anyone who finds that too boring can go straight to the office. You got that?" A wave of nods spread through the room.

"Good," she said as she sat back down and resumed reading.

The room enjoyed a few minutes of true piece before the murmurings of students sharing answers or making plans for the evening cropped up. Once a comfortable backdrop of white noise had formed, George regained his boldness.

"Hey," hissed.

Carrie said nothing. She didn't even look up to investigate.

George tired again. "Hey, Carrie," he said, a little louder this time. Still no response. He took his pencil and held it by the lead tip, pointing the eraser end towards Carrie.

"Hey," he said again, this time while poking her with the eraser of his pencil. She jumped a bit, startled by the sudden sensation.

"Ooooooh," he said, suggestively. "I see you like getting poked."

"Mrs. Rossbeck," said a familiar voice, which came from the front of the room. It was Jerry. "George is being too loud."

"I can't hear him," said the teacher.

"Well, I can, and it's really distracting," replied Jerry.

"Have you ever thought of being less nosey and focussing on your work?"

Jerry folded her arms and sat back in her seat, defeated.

"I thought so," said Rossbeck, picking up her book.

This exchange, which failed to land George in any trouble, did at least buy another few minutes of quiet for Carrie, who rushed through her homework assignment, unsure of when she would again be interrupted.

She got about halfway through the questionnaire before he started up again, an impressive feat considering the detail required for some of the answers, and the fact that she was only left alone for a maximum of five minutes. This time, he cut to the chase.

"I'm gonna make you a woman, Carrie," he said, drawing out the word "woman" to an odd degree. "I'm gonna to take you out back and I'm gonna fuck you like an animal."

"Oooooh," whispered the boy in front of her. "Carrie's gonna get it oooooon."

Suddenly, George flinched. His hand flew to cover his forehead and he stood up. "Who keeps hitting me," he asked, irritably.

Carrie looked around too, trying to determine the origin of the projectile. Her eyes lingered on Jerry, who was busy shuffling a rubber band under her books. Once the evidence was hidden, she looked out the door in an effort to look casual.

"Enough," yelled Rossbeck, slamming her book down on the desk. "I don't know who the practical joker is, but if anyone throws one more of those stupid paper bullets, I'm going to write you all up." Rossbeck was a fan of collective punishment.

A series of huffs and irritated sighs rang out as the teacher's threat sank in. Now they had to be on their best behavior, so as not to be the one to ruin it for everyone else and earn the entire study hall's hatred. Even George straightened up and left Carrie alone, suspecting his behavior towards her had somehow led to the attack.

After class, Carrie decided to wait outside the door instead of going straight to gym. George winked at her as he passed. She looked away, but could hear him talking to his friends down the hall.

"Hey, she's really scared. It's like she thinks I'd actually try and fuck her." She could make out the laughter of the other boys, and then their voices were lost, drowned out by the din of hundreds of other conversations.

"You okay?"

The question startled her. She'd become so focused on George's words that she hadn't noticed Jerry standing next to her. "Ohuh," she said, looking up dumbly. "Yea. I'm okay. Why were you so late?"

"Dentist," said Jerry, flatly. "Hated it. So, to change the subject, you mind if I walk with you to gym?"

"Sure," Carrie replied, although her answer sounded more like a resignation than an invitation.

They walked in silence for a moment until Carrie finally spoke up again. "I know it was you," she said, grasping for anything that would break the uncomfortable silence. "That was pretty gutsy."

Jerry laughed. "Yea, I know. I'm a girl with balls." She paused. "I also happen to know what that shit's like. Guys used to pull it on me all the time. It's shitty."

"Yea," she said. "It's like it's not enough that they don't like you. They have rub your nose in it too."

"Exactly," replied Jerry. "Joke's on them though. I never wanted them in the first place. Can't tease me with something I don't care about."

Carrie looked puzzled. "But don't you want a boyfriend?"

"Not if they're all like that," she said. "Do you?"

Carrie thought for a second. "It's sinful," she said, finally.

"Well, maybe, but that's not what I asked. Do you want one?"

Again, she didn't reply right away. Then, almost inaudibly, she said, "I would like a boyfriend. Someday." She trailed off at the end of "someday," as if she was relating a dream she'd had that she couldn't quite remember.

Jerry didn't reply, except to let out a quiet "hmmm," to indicate that she was thinking. "Then, good luck finding a guy who doesn't have his head up his ass. They all seem to around here."

She chuckled in an attempt to mark her comment as a joke, but there was no indication that it had been taken as such. Carrie just sighed and looked down at her feet.

"It doesn't help that I'm not pretty," she said, sadly.

"Oh, fuck pretty," said Jerry, dismissively. "Fu-fuckin… Why does everything have to be pretty, anyway? Why can't you just look like a fucking human being? It's not enough to walk and talk and have a face. No, you gotta slap half a pound of rainbow bullshit on it before people will even look at you. Just look how you look. You'll be fine."

"But I'm not fine," said Carrie. "I'm really...not fine."

The bell rang for third period, and Carrie had to hurry to gym, lest she burst in while all the other girls were almost done changing and earn their ridicule. She thanked Jerry again for her study hall antics. Jerry replied with a casual "No problem," and walked away, but couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by the way the conversation had wrapped up. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, there was indeed something "not fine" about Carrie White. She tried to work it out on her way to her class, but was unable to come to any solid conclusions.

"She seems harmless enough," she thought as she stood outside her third period math class. "She's probably just depressed or something." She took her seat while the teacher berated her for her tardiness, and her train of thought switched tracks away from Carrie White and onto the fact that her homework was unfinished. "Fuck."