Reckoning Read Free Page B

really bothering you, Rach?” I know there has to be something more than the lack of available boyfriend material.
    Rachel sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just really don’t want to work for my mom. I mean, she’s great and everything, but I just…would rather do something else.”
    “You’d rather have a boss who’s not your parent too?” I guess.
    “Yes!” she exclaims. “Totally!”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I say, rubbing her arm. “It won’t be that bad. You’re mom’s pretty cool. I’m sure she’ll understand where you’re coming from.”
    “Yeah. We’ll see.”
    Taking one last look around, I step out of the car and gave her a big hug. “This really is awesome. Congrats, Rach.”
    “Thanks, Kat,” she says, breaking into a smile. “I can’t wait ‘til school’s over today. I’ll give you a ride home.”
    “Sweet!”
    The sound of the bell sends us into panic mode and gathering our backpacks we run through the parking lot, dashing through the double-door, glass entrance.
    Jostling our way through the congestion of the hallway, I toss my backpack into my locker, grabbing notebook and pencils for dreaded first period chemistry. Before closing the door, I glance in the small mirror mounted on the back. Unimpressed, I swing the door closed.
    As students make their way into classrooms, the crowd thins, revealing the perfectly coiffed blonde head of Steph Henderson. She is crouched on the floor, frantically flipping through a stack of papers. With just two weeks left before the end of the school year, most of us have already begun the process of cleaning out our lockers. But Steph’s is still crammed to overflowing with loose paper, overdue school library books, balled up tshirts, crumpled and torn notebooks and miscellaneous candy wrappers. It amazes me how someone so disorganized and sloppy manages to look so flawless. When it comes to Steph, there is never a hair, an eyelash or thread out of place. From her make-up to her clothes, she is perfection.
     
    Her personality, however, is a different story. Cold, calculating, and endlessly critical, she is the epitome of the word bitch . And for some reason, ever since freshman year, she’s had it in for me, never missing an opportunity to make some insulting remark about my hair, my pale skin, what I’m wearing and just about anything else that pops into her tiny head.
    Watching her slowly descend into panic mode, I feel a small sense of satisfaction.
    Adjusting my books, I paste an innocent expression on my face. “Is everything OK, Steph?”
    She glances up and gives me a withering look, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “No, it is not OK,” she snaps, as if she can’t believe I’ve just asked such a stupid question. “Ogre-face said I never turned in my last chemistry test, which I know I did. She just never marked it in the grade book. And now I can’t find it anywhere. This is so going to effect my final grade.”
    “Wow. Sorry, Steph. Um, good luck with that,” I add, smiling sweetly. I look doubtfully at the piles of paper crammed in her locker. She sneers again and goes back to flipping through papers. Stepping around her, I make my over to Rachel. “I think she’s gonna be there awhile,” I murmur, suppressing a smile.
    Rachel glances at Steph and agrees, adding, “I think a little Organization 101 and Personality Upgrade 3.0 would help her more than finding a chemistry test.”
    I laugh silently, my attention drawn to the pale shadow flitting past the end of the hallway. There is a slight buzzing in my ears. Ignoring it, I bring my gaze back to Rachel. “And by the way,” I say, returning to my earlier concern. “Lose the braids.”
    Rachel closes her locker and turns to me, pushing out her lower lip in a fake pout. Tilting her head to the side, she widens her eyes in mock surprise. “You don’t like them?”
    “No,” I say firmly. “We had a pact, you know.”
    Reaching out, she twirls a lock of my