you know that cheerleading tryouts are today? I think I’ll try out!” Amanda announced gleefully.
I tried my best to stifle a groan, but the sound escaped anyway. I laid my head on the Formica lunch table, reminding myself to breathe. Not only was Amanda after my ex, but now she was taking my spot on the squad?
My first day as a high school freshman was getting off to a rocky start.
Chapter Three
The Sociopath
I closed the door to the bathroom stall behind me. Listened. I didn’t hear anyone coming.
My backpack was heavy. Easing it off my shoulders, I rested the bulky thing on the stained toilet seat. I unzipped the pack. Stopped to listen again, but heard no one.
I stuck my hand in the bag, slipping past the new folders and notebooks. The tips of my fingers grazed cool metal.
I gripped the gun in my hand.
I pulled it out, admiring its shiny, sleek design and lightness despite its power.
I moved the backpack from the toilet seat to the floor, taking a seat myself. I pointed the gun at the stall door. From where I sat, there was very little distance between me and the door.
Just enough to extend my arm. I brought my other hand over, using it to steady my grip.
“Bang bang.” I aimed the gun at the letter “S” in a crude, “School sucks” message written on the door.
Suddenly, the main door to the bathroom swung open, loud sounds from the hallway pouring in…locker doors closing, sneakers squeaking, annoying voices of my classmates… man, I hate Harrow High.
There were two people talking now, standing right in front of my door at the row of porcelain sinks. I tilted my head to the left…down, down, down…until I could make out the shapes of their legs only a few feet away.
If I wanted to, I could take the expression, “knocks their socks off” to a whole other level.
I lowered the gun, aimed it for the back of a tan, fuzzy calf. Closed my left eye.
My finger resting on the trigger, I pressed. It made a small, barely noticeable click .
“Bang bang,” I mouthed silently.
The gun wasn’t loaded. But tomorrow I’d bring some bullets.
Chapter Four
Dakota
Even if I was in the mood for socializing—I wasn’t—there was, once again, no one to talk to in my fourth period, Spanish class. I wondered how to say “I’m bored” in Español?
Yawning, I flipped through my paperback textbook, skimming the terms in the glossary until I received my answer. “ Estoy aburrido ,” I muttered.
“Miss Densford?” Mr. Thompson called out, his voice strangely feminine for such a hairy, gruff man like himself.
I sat up ramrod straight from my previously slumped position.
“Anything you want to share with the class?” He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I squeezed my lips together and shook my head nervously.
“Perhaps you would find my class more entertaining if you taught it yourself?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows challengingly.
Getting on your Spanish teacher’s shit list on the first day of high school was never a good idea. Too late.
“No sir.” I offered a tight, apologetic smile. He turned back around to the whiteboard and when he did, I heard a melodic giggle coming from the back. How did I miss that poof of red hair and glittering eyes in the back of the room? It was Mariella, Genevieve’s best friend.
I shot a dirty look over my shoulder, and then tried to focus on the droning sound of Mr. Thompson’s voice for the remainder of the period. When the class bell rang, I was more than a little relieved. How was I going to make it through an entire school year filled with such boring classes?
School won’t be so bad if you’re a varsity cheerleader, I reminded myself.
Ronnie played forward on the basketball team. Perhaps if he saw me on the sidelines in one of those cute little skirts, showing off my cheerleading moves, he’d want me back , I considered. Even though I wanted him to
I tried my best to stifle a groan, but the sound escaped anyway. I laid my head on the Formica lunch table, reminding myself to breathe. Not only was Amanda after my ex, but now she was taking my spot on the squad?
My first day as a high school freshman was getting off to a rocky start.
Chapter Three
The Sociopath
I closed the door to the bathroom stall behind me. Listened. I didn’t hear anyone coming.
My backpack was heavy. Easing it off my shoulders, I rested the bulky thing on the stained toilet seat. I unzipped the pack. Stopped to listen again, but heard no one.
I stuck my hand in the bag, slipping past the new folders and notebooks. The tips of my fingers grazed cool metal.
I gripped the gun in my hand.
I pulled it out, admiring its shiny, sleek design and lightness despite its power.
I moved the backpack from the toilet seat to the floor, taking a seat myself. I pointed the gun at the stall door. From where I sat, there was very little distance between me and the door.
Just enough to extend my arm. I brought my other hand over, using it to steady my grip.
“Bang bang.” I aimed the gun at the letter “S” in a crude, “School sucks” message written on the door.
Suddenly, the main door to the bathroom swung open, loud sounds from the hallway pouring in…locker doors closing, sneakers squeaking, annoying voices of my classmates… man, I hate Harrow High.
There were two people talking now, standing right in front of my door at the row of porcelain sinks. I tilted my head to the left…down, down, down…until I could make out the shapes of their legs only a few feet away.
If I wanted to, I could take the expression, “knocks their socks off” to a whole other level.
I lowered the gun, aimed it for the back of a tan, fuzzy calf. Closed my left eye.
My finger resting on the trigger, I pressed. It made a small, barely noticeable click .
“Bang bang,” I mouthed silently.
The gun wasn’t loaded. But tomorrow I’d bring some bullets.
Chapter Four
Dakota
Even if I was in the mood for socializing—I wasn’t—there was, once again, no one to talk to in my fourth period, Spanish class. I wondered how to say “I’m bored” in Español?
Yawning, I flipped through my paperback textbook, skimming the terms in the glossary until I received my answer. “ Estoy aburrido ,” I muttered.
“Miss Densford?” Mr. Thompson called out, his voice strangely feminine for such a hairy, gruff man like himself.
I sat up ramrod straight from my previously slumped position.
“Anything you want to share with the class?” He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I squeezed my lips together and shook my head nervously.
“Perhaps you would find my class more entertaining if you taught it yourself?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows challengingly.
Getting on your Spanish teacher’s shit list on the first day of high school was never a good idea. Too late.
“No sir.” I offered a tight, apologetic smile. He turned back around to the whiteboard and when he did, I heard a melodic giggle coming from the back. How did I miss that poof of red hair and glittering eyes in the back of the room? It was Mariella, Genevieve’s best friend.
I shot a dirty look over my shoulder, and then tried to focus on the droning sound of Mr. Thompson’s voice for the remainder of the period. When the class bell rang, I was more than a little relieved. How was I going to make it through an entire school year filled with such boring classes?
School won’t be so bad if you’re a varsity cheerleader, I reminded myself.
Ronnie played forward on the basketball team. Perhaps if he saw me on the sidelines in one of those cute little skirts, showing off my cheerleading moves, he’d want me back , I considered. Even though I wanted him to
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