Chapter 3
Baseball Boy followed me to my locker. I tried to discreetly trip him, but he's as nimble as a gazelle and as bright as a piece of gravel on the parking lot.
"Do you need to wear your glasses?"
"Do you always need to ask so many questions?" I tossed my books in and slammed it shut. "Of course, I do. These puppies aren't for show. Go away."
"You should get contacts," he stated as he tried to pull my glasses off my face.
Damn it! My hand grazed his as I pushed his hand away and the idiot shocked me. "I don't like people touching me."
"Definitely contacts."
"Listen buddy, this isn't Pygmalion," I stated. I tried to stomp away from him.
He caught up. "What's that?"
"My Fair Lady." I started to jog away from him.
"Was that song on Glee?" He was quick, just not in the head.
"I'm not in one of those teen movies where the boy gets dared to make a girl pretty and has sex with her." I jabbed my finger in his chest. "It's not happening!"
"Of course not! No one dares Edward Cullen to do anything." He looked offended. "I hate those movies."
"Did you seriously refer to yourself in the third person?" We reached the gymnasium. "This is my stop. Go forth and bother somebody else."
"I'll pick you up after class. You can watch practice."
I looked at him in confusion. "What practice? You practicing to tie your shoe?"
"You're hilarious!" Baseball Boy laughed. Again. "Baseball practice, of course."
"No."
He hugged me. "See you after class!"
It was now a fact. Baseball Boy was an escaped mental patient. I should probably borrow Dad's taser.