A/N
'Ello, everyone! I kinda ran out of stuff to put in this chapter, so nothing really happens, and I'm too lazy to think of anything...hopefully it's mildly entertaining though. Now I will go back to trying to memorize the lyrics to The Tide's Trouble. Wish me luck.
"Hey, did you get question two?" I ask Haylee. She slides her paper over to me. Despite her tendencies, she's actually really smart. I copy her answer down, and lay my forehead on the floor. We are in the library for our sixth period study hall.
"-and this is why I'm glad I wasn't in your old class." I look up at the entrance, and Drake and Luke are walking through it. I wave them over, knowing Haylee won't mind. Drake's still got the glasses, but he hasn't bothered with the concealer now I know who he is. He throws his text book in front of me. "We're doing the freaking pi unit again!" He wails. I examine his book, and smirk.
"I'm not in your class. We're doing trig," I reply triumphantly. Haylee raises her eyebrows at me.
"Since when are you glad to be doing trig? It sucks."
"We did the pi unit at Garde. Talk about yawn worthy," I explain.
Haylee looks at Drake sceptically. "Dang. Did you go to Garde too, or something? You seem to know Ella pretty well. And if you did the same pi unit..." Drake freezes, and I can see his brain trying to come up with something. Crap. He's horrible at this.
"Yeah, I went to Garde. We were in the same math class. But we weren't, like, close or anything." That was...actually a decent lie. Well done, Drake.
"You look familiar...have I seen you before?" Oh, crap balls. I'd shown Haylee and Gigi the photos...
Drake looks confused, and for once I'm glad of his obliviousness. "No, I don't think so." She seems to accept this, and starts chatting to Luke. I look at Drake. "Good save."
"I thought so too."
"So..." I begin, wondering how to phrase my next sentence. "How's Daniela?" He makes a face.
"No progress there. She's probably glad I'm gone. But everyone's in total chaos right now, it's super weird," he says.
"Huh?" I ask intelligently.
"Like, Stanley's kinda gone into this weird silence thing, then John's kinda through with him, and Maren's more serious, and then Myra...Wade's broken up with her," he says in one breath, which is really impressive.
"Really? That's great- uh, oh no, that's awful, I'm so sorry for her," I correct myself hurriedly. Drake grins.
"I'm Team Mydam as well. I mean, what kind of ship name is Made? Or Wyra? It just doesn't work," he muses, shaking his head. I stifle a laugh. "He hasn't made a move though. She's kinda depressed. Everyone's depressed."
"Well, that's lovely. So basically, they hate each other again?" He nods. I sigh. "I knew they got back together too fast."
"Who got back together?" Haylee asks, leaning over my shoulder.
"These people at Garde. Everyone knew them," I lie. Well, it isn't actually lying. Technically. She shrugs. "Garde people? I couldn't really care less about them. Go back to your conversation," she says, turning back to Luke. Drake and I each make a face.
"How're the rest of Stanley's gang?" I ask hesitantly. Drake shrugs.
"Well. They're Stanley's gang. They haven't really changed."
"Everything seems so different," I observe. He snorts.
"That's one way to put it. And-oh! Sarah's moving for a couple months." My jaw drops. I'd completely forgotten about Sarah.
"What about John? She was practically the one holding everyone together!" I exclaim. He shrugs again. "Damn. I'm scared to ask, but I've gotta know. Marina and Joseph?" I really hope Marina has her happy ending. She definitely deserves it.
"They're, like, the only two that're still together," he confirms.
"Phewsh," I exhale.
"Team Jorina nearly beats Team Mydam," he comments. I snicker. Does he have a ship name for everything?
"You know what I think is equal to Team Mydam?" I start slyly. He shakes his head. "Team...Draniela."
"That isn't gonna happen," he replies sadly. He actually looks like a really sad puppy, you know the ones I'm thinking of. It makes me feel upset just looking at him.
"Hey, you never know."
"Draniela isn't even a cool ship name," he complains. I stare at him incredulously. "You're worried about having a cool ship name?" I clarify. He nods. I mean, Korales or Mont could work for their last names...but they weren't really better than Draniela.
"I'll think of one," I promise. "But for now, you better crack onto that pi worksheet!" If Drake was anything like Nolan, he would've flipped me off and sworn at me. God, Ella, stop thinking about freaking Nolan! But him being Drake, he does something weird. Since all four of us (Me, Haylee, Luke and Drake) are lying on the floor, and my hands are in front of me, and our heads are pretty close to the ground, I guess (I can't even begin to explain the actions of Drake Kent), he licks my hand. I repress a shriek.
"What the hell was that for?" I ask.
"You were being mean," he pouts, but I can tell he's trying not to laugh.
"It wasn't even mean. Maybe annoying," I mutter. He nods thoughtfully.
"But I'm so good with words, I decided to use mean instead."
"Good with words? Can I mention the 'that's-'"
"No, you can't! Why do you keep bringing that up?"
"Because it's funny. But really; instead of being mean, be median or mode and do your maths," I crack slyly. He groans at me.
"That wasn't even a good maths pun!"
"Well, I thought it was pretty clever."
"'Thought'," he points out.
"Whatever."
I feel a tap on my desk, and take out my earphones, looking up from my textbook. I discreetly slide my phone under the cover, hoping that the teacher didn't see it. But it's not the teacher. A familiar-ish face is staring at me.
"Do I know you?" I ask. He just shrugs.
"I dunno. I was hoping you could tell me that."
"I'm Ella," I introduce warily.
"Maybe I don't know you. I'm pretty sure I don't know any Ella's. I'm Peyton, by the way," he replies. I swear I know this guy. Peyton, Peyton...oh, right!
"You're that guy from the mall! That was dared to sit with me and my friends," I elaborate at his confused expression. He snaps his fingers.
"With the blonde girl with abs, yeah? The one that over ordered?" He clarifies. I roll my eyes.
"She ate all that food faster than I ate my burger. But yeah, that'd be Myra," I reply dryly.
"She seriously finished all that? Everyone in my house eats that much for dinner."
"Your house must be really small," I observe. He nods sharply. "Something like that."
"So, did you have a reason for coming over here?" I ask nonchalantly, twirling my pencil between my fingers.
He scratches his head. "Uh, not really. Just wanted to see if I knew you."
"Right, well-"
"Mr Evans, please sit down an stop disrupting Miss Ra," a sharp voice rings out. :Peyton winces, and turns to the front.
"Just asking Ella for help, miss," he says earnestly. Mrs Jugel gives him a disapproving look.
"You come in late, then prevent other students from doing their work. That is not acceptable behaviour, young man," she lectures. He nods, and when she turns back around to write something on the board, he slides into the seat next to me and rolls his eyes. "What a downer."
"She's almost as bad as Ms Carpin," I mutter. Peyton looks at me quizzically.
"Who?" Of course, he never went to Garde.
"This teacher back at Garde. Total nightmare." A thought occurs to me. "How long've you been at Mogadore?"
He looks taken aback. "How'd you know I was new?"
"You didn't know who I was. I was here last year and, well, let's just say everyone knew who I was," I explain briefly.
"Right. It seems kinda weird, like everyone at this school, I dunno, is in their own bubble, and it's kinda a more...like, I don't give a crap attitude," he says. I nod.
"I can relate to that."
"Ugh. Why do we even need to learn algebra?" Peyton groans. I look at him in from the corner of my eye.
"School's important, you know. Get a decent job, earn money, that kinda stuff," I tell him. He shrugs.
"Yeah, see, I don't care about whether maths and English wanna hook up. I don't wanna do anything with math," he states confidently.
I stare at him. "You know what you wanna do?" He gives a wry grin.
"I wanna be a billionaire. But that ain't gonna happen, so I just gotta deal with whatever life hands me. I'm thinking music or graphics is more my thing." I keep staring.
"Wow. That was...deep," I finally say.
"Right? I could be some shitty philosopher," he cracks. I smirk.
"Yeah? Maybe you can give me some advice on this stupid worksheet," I say, holding up my history homework. He raises his eyebrows.
"Doing homework during class, Miss Ra?" I shrug in response. "Don't ask me about history. I'm no Shakespeare." I'm about to correct him on multiple errors in his sentence, when I feel my phone buzz. I check the caller, wince, and try to unlock it before the song starts playing.
"-wake up with amnesia-" I quickly accept the call. I glance up to the front, but the teacher is letting everyone continue on with their work while she reads at the front.
"Who is it?" Peyton asks. "And 5SOS? Not that I have anything against them-" I make shut up gestures with my hands and he goes silent.
"What dya want?" I ask plainly. Peyton's eyebrows shoot up.
"Just seeing how you're doing. Life here is seriously depressing," Nolan answers simply.
"So I've heard. Bu-"
"How've you heard?" Crap.
"I have my sources," I reply mysteriously.
"Right. I've got Mr Rey's class right now."
"How the hell are you on your phone, then?"
"I've got his class. That doesn't mean I'm in it," he says mischievously. I roll my eyes.
"What else is new? How're you're arm and knee fixing up?" I ask. Peyton raises his eyebrows even further up his head.
"Eh. Still got the cast, still on crutches, it's gonna take a while. Like, next year." I feel my jaw dropping.
"I knew it was really bad, but that's your last year of high school! You're gonna be in a wheelchair for most of it because of me!"
"Chill. It was my decision to jump," he begins calmly.
"A really stupid decision," I state. I can feel his glare through the phone.
"Whatever. But I gotta deal with that decision. It was also my idea to go up to the roof. So don't sweat about it."
"I'm not sweating, I'm fretting," I reply.
"You're a poet and didn't even know it."
"Shut it. I'm gonna go, cause I've got the Mog equivalent of Ms Carpin."
"Eesh. Good luck. I've got her next. Mr Rey then Ms Carpin. Who the hell chose my timetable?" He ponders. I snort.
"Talk to ya later."
"Bye." I hang up, and turn to Peyton.
"Your volume's up real loud," he says.
I lift an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"I could hear, like, your whole conversation."
"Right. Well, I'm guessing you want an explanation on why my friend is on a wheelchair?"
"That'd be nice," he drawls. I nod.
"Okay. So, I was on a roof, and long story short, I fell. So this guy jumps off after me, and I don't get that badly injured. But he's got all these deformed and shattered bones and that. And then we both got amnesia, but I remembered everything and he still hasn't. So yeah," I finish awkwardly. I don't know why I'm telling him this.
"I gotta know, why the 5SOS ringtone?" I stare at him.
"Why the hell is that what you got out of all that?" He shrugs.
"Natural talent."
"Whatever. One of my friends, the one that 'over ordered', made it our 'theme song'," I explain briefly.
"But wh...ah, I get it, okay." I resist the urge to slap my forehead.
"Wow, you're a genius," I say dryly. He grins cheekily.
"'Course I am. I'm a philosopher. Shakespeare better watch out."
"I think you mean Socrates," I point out. He flaps a hand.
"Pfft. They both start with 's', right?"
"I really pity whoever actually listens to your advice," I tell him.
"Hey! I'm a very good advice giver, thank you very much," he argues.
"'Course you are," I mumble, and discreetly check the clock. Forty five minutes left. Something tells me this is going to be a long session.
