I couldn't resist adding more to this story. Ha! Tell me what you think?
I ran out of the gym before I could even talk to the principal, or the mystery girl. From the distance I could see her I could tell that she was pretty, which only led me to think other things. Maybe she really didn't care about me at all. Maybe she just wanted a golden star that says, Wow, you saved the nerd from High School bullies! Here's a college credit!
It's just starting to rain outside, so I feel a couple drops hit the top of my head. Luckily, my house is within walking distance from school, and I'm there within just a few minutes. My mom is probably worrying about why I'm late. I'm worrying more about her.
"Mom?" I shout as I finally walk through the door. Our house is small, considering my dad mainly provided money for us, and he's been MIA for years now. But I'm proud of my mom for taking care of us. I could probably make money doing something like tutoring or computer hacking, but most of my free time is spent taking care of her. One day I know that I'll have to tell somebody about her schizophrenia, but I don't want to think about all the pain that will come with it. She'll hate me forever.
"Spencer Reid! Why are you so late?" Her voice echoes from the kitchen.
"One of my teachers wanted to talk to me," I reply. She looks the same as usual- short cut blond hair, a pink dress, and scribbling furiously in a notebook.
"About what?"
"It's hard to explain," I say. I've always been a terrible liar. My mother raises her eyebrows, but doesn't question me further. Instead, her pen goes back to the paper, and she begins writing aimlessly. Sometimes the stories and quotes are decent, but other times not. I read plenty, at least five books a week, but normally more. I've even considered writing one.
The kitchen phone rings, and my eyes widen. We hardly ever get phone calls on the house phone. Not that anyone ever really calls my cell phone except for my mother.
"Could you answer it? It's probably an annoying telemarketer. The other day, one of them tried selling me some sort of damn potato peeler. Who still uses a peeler?" Mom snickers, but I hastily answer the phone.
"Uh, hello?"
"Spencer?"
"Who is this?" I ask.
"My name is Maeve. I called the principal in the gym today. I got your number from the school directory, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. Nobody followed you right?"
I can't really find a reply. Since when has anyone ever cared enough about me to call me? It's almost a miracle.
"Spencer?" She asks from the other end, and I shake out of it.
"Yeah, I got home alright. Thank you for, um, helping me."
"Every single one of those cheerleaders has detention over the break now. They shouldn't be bothering you anymore. I've seen you around school, saw how they were always bothering you. Just know that you're better than them, okay?"
"-Okay. Yeah, thanks." I sound awful but there's not much I can do about it.
"Well, see you after break or something," she says.
I almost turn off the phone, but then stop.
"Maeve?"
"Yes?"
"Can I, um, call you later?"
"Sure."
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