Chapter Thirteen

       I strolled down the hall, fairly confident that I was heading in the right direction. My eyes scanned over the rusty, blue and green lockers placed in between doors of classroom. Though there were people walking by me in a rush, I remained calm, slowly allowing myself to adjust to the day.

       “Hey, babe,” someone huskily said, placing their hand on my shoulder.

       “Dylan,” I greeted, recognizing his form of speech and voice instantly.

       “Where ya headed?” he questioned, as I resumed walking.

       “Homeroom,” I answered simply.

       “Oh. Say hi to the bitches for me,” he said, insulting the girls once again. “By the way, how was your little date the other night?”

       “Oh, fine,” I said casually.

       “Did you meet Alex?” he asked bluntly. I nodded slowly, wondering about Dylan’s outlook on the blonde boy I had met, though I assumed it would be less than favorable.

       “What happened between you two?” I found myself asking.

       “Between me and Campbell?” he arched a brow.

       “No, with Eric. Why don’t you like him?”

       He let out a low laugh, smiling knowingly at me. “Babe, the emotions I feel towards Wilson are a little stronger than ‘don’t like’. You’re new, and, honestly, the reason I hate him is irrelevant; all you need to know is he’s bad news.”

       “Whatever,” I mumbled.

       “So, did good ol’ Eric get to first base, or strike out?” he suggestively inquired, as we arrived at the room often referred to as “Five-twelve”.

       “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said cryptically, walking into the room and leaving Dylan with that tantalizing thought.

       When I walked into the room, I saw the usual clusters of friends conversing, and looked for the one I had made a habit of associating with.

       “Liz!” Tara called out, waving her hand wildly at me.

       I nodded my head in acknowledgement, and walked over to where the three girls were standing. “Hey,” I greeted.

       “Were you just talking to Dylan Collins?” Lauren accused.

       “Yup,” I said, seeing no point in evading the truth on the matter. 

       “Liz!” Tara groaned.

       “What?” I sighed, knowing that I hadn’t done anything wrong.

       “He’s not a good kid,” Lauren said. “I heard he was doing drugs!”

       “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Tara scoffed.

       “Can we stop talking about Dylan?” I requested, sitting down on top of one of the desks.

       “Sure,” Tara said lightly, “what are you doing tonight?”

       I thought for a moment before replying, “I was planning on chilling at my house, doing homework, and possibly watching TV.” Yeah, I could be boring when I wanted to be.

       “Isn’t your mom out of town?” Lauren questioned.

       I looked over to Alice, hoping she would give me any insight as to what was about to go down, but her head was turned down as her fingers tapped viciously away at her phone. “Yeah,” I answered slowly.

       “You should have some people over,” Tara suggested.

       “Yeah,” Lauren agreed, “like…a small get together.”

       “You guys are kidding, right? I’ve seen movies, I’ve watched TV, and I’ve lived life- if you wanted to know if I could throw a party, you could’ve just asked,” I said, studying their faces.

       Lauren looked over to Tara, and they silently had a conversation with the use of only hand motions and facial expressions. “You should throw a party, Liz,” Lauren finally said.

       “Okay, sounds fun,” I said, faking confidence.

       “Wait, what?” Alice snapped, looking up from her phone. “You’re actually going along with the idea?”

       “Yeah, why not?” I asked.

       “Because it’s a terrible idea!” she explained. “These two are pretty much asking to trash your house!”

       “I’m willing to take full responsibility for anything happens, and it sounds fun,” I shrugged.

       “Wow, Liz,” Alice said, “I never pegged you for the partying type.” Neither did I…

       “There’s a lot you guys don’t know about me,” I said extraordinarily truthfully. Hell, they barely knew me.

       “So, a party it is. I’ll send the word out,” Tara said, taking out her phone and beginning to type away.

       “Oh my god, Liz, this is going to be so much fun!” Lauren happily exclaimed, clapping her hands. A bell echoed off the walls of the room, signifying our time was coming to an end.

       “See you guys later!” Tara said, as she slung her purse over a shoulder, and exited the room with Lauren and others.

       “You have no idea what you just did, do you?” Alice asked, linking arms with me as she began to pull me out of the room.

       “Not a clue.” She laughed, as we began our venture to a class I had begun to hate: math.

       When we arrived in the room, Alice skillfully snagged two desks towards the back of the class. She dropped her purse on the desk dramatically, and bent down to take out a binder and a few pencils. Gingerly, she placed the pencils neatly at the top of her desk, and the binder a few inches below.

       I slumped down in the seat next to her, and pulled out my own materials from my backpack. Looking over to Alice’s methodical layout, I was reminded of how unorganized I truly was. Papers were seeping out of my binder, overflowing to the edges, and it resembled that of the debris from a small hurricane.

       “Liz!” someone cheerily greeted, as I stared down in confusion at my muddled binder.

       I slowly lifted my face, and smiled as I saw Eric standing before me. “Hi,” I addressed him.

       “How are you?” he nonchalantly asked, sitting down at the desk next to mine.

       “Good, you?” I returned.

       “Fine,” he said simply. “I hear you’re throwing a party tonight.”

       “It appears that way.” I didn’t question how he obtained the information, assuming that Tara had probably texted everyone on her contact list or posted it as her status on Facebook. Tara seemed like the type of girl that knew a lot of people.

       “It also appears as though I’m invited.”

       “That you are,” I nodded, gazing into his eyes. He had pretty eyes; I wasn’t one to deny it. Emerald green with specks of hazel in them. They were filled with calmness and compassion. As creepy as it was, I think I had heard the girls talking about Eric’s eyes once at lunch (Something about them being captivating and all that bull).

       “I like your eyes,” he complimented, as I uneasily lowered my gaze down to my desk.

       “Uh, I like yours too,” I said, staring at the muted wood of the desktop below me.

       “Ugh! Get a room!” Alice gagged, throwing a piece of crumpled up paper at me.

       I snapped my head around to face her, and smirked. “We were merely expressing our views on one another’s eyes; how do you translate that into a sexual innuendo?”

       She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the high-pitched voice belonging to the one and only Ms. Gardener, our math teacher and a lady I hadn’t grown fond of over my short amount of time at Madison High.

       She was a short lady, with bones thin and fragile, and looked as though one could snap her in half with as much as ease as a toothpick. Despite her slender body, she was anything but weak. She had beady eyes behind glasses that were always perched on the bridge of her nose, and a cold, uninviting face. A smile had yet to make its way across her face in the time I knew her, and I doubted one ever did. This lady was scary.

       “Turn in your homework, and give it to…” she said, as her threatening eyes raked over the class, searching for a victim, “Elizabeth.”

       I cringed, hearing my full name, and reluctantly stood up, ready to preform the task that had been assigned. My eyes traveled over to Eric’s, and he gave me a comforting and sympathetic smile. I walked to the front of the room, and began to systematically collect the sheets of white-lined paper that contained the previous night’s assignment from my fellow classmates.

       When I finished going through all the rows, I shakily walked up to the front of the room, unsure of why my stomach was churning just because of an old lady. I looked up at the woman, about to set the papers on her desk, when she sent me a cold glare. My mind blanked in fear. Weight was subtracted from my arms, and I hadn’t the slightest clue as to what had happened.

       “I got it!” I heard Eric call. In an instant he was by my side, picking up sheets, as I stood motionless.

       I dropped down to join him in collecting the mess I had made, and whispered a meek, “Sorry.”

       “It’s okay,” he said back, collecting the papers and compiling them tidily together.

       Once the two of us had finished cleaning up my spill, we put the papers on her desk.

       “Take your seats now,” she barked, scowling at me.

       “She scares the shit out of me,” I muttered as Eric and I walked down the long aisle to return to our seats.

       “She’s a teacher; it’s her job,” Eric said lightly.

       I laughed, and then I heard it, “Elizabeth, care to share with the class what you find so amusing?” Ms. Gardener snarled. Spinning around to face her, I opened my mouth, but no words came out. “Well?”

       “I was just telling Liz-” Eric started.

       “Mr. Wilson,” she said, “did I ask you to answer?”

       “No but-”

       “That’s it! Leave my class now, both of you! Go to the principals office!” she raged.

       I shuddered, quickly stuffing my belongings into my bag, and slinging it over a shoulder. Eric followed my lead, and I did the walk of shame back to the front of the room to exit. I spun around to look at Alice one final time, and her eyes couldn’t have been bulging out any bigger.

       “Leave!” the woman commanded forcefully.

       I turned the doorknob, about to proceed, when I realized that I wasn’t being true to myself. I wasn’t the type of person that took shit from anyone; especially not some bitchy old lady who was probably just depressed that one of her seventy-three cats had passed away. It wasn’t me.

       Slowly, I rotated my head, and smiled at the woman. “Thanks for you’re your time. I hope you have a lovely rest of the day.”

       “Get out!” she yelled, on edge.

       “Sorry,” I apologized insincerely, “I was just demonstrating this thing I like to call ‘Manners’. Ever heard of them?” Her mouth opened, but this time, I was the one to interrupt her, “Didn’t think so.” Without a second thought, I left the room, and entered the hallway, my heart beating slightly faster than usual.

       Though New Yorkers had a notorious reputation for being, well, rude, Bostonians were no better. When I was living in Texas, it was a bit of a culture shock to me. Everyone took his or her time to chat, and the term “Southern hospitality” had been utilized to the fullest. Personally, I prefered quick, speedy, and impolite New Englanders, but that was simply who I grew up with.

       “You’re awesome, Liz,” Eric said, as we walked down the hall at a steady pace.

       “Are we going to get in trouble?” I asked. I had no desire to get my mother, who happened to be three thousand miles away, involved in a little debacle at school.

       “Absolutely not,” he said, supportively grasping my hand and giving it a soothing squeeze.

       I nodded, as we maneuvered our way through the desolate halls. Since it was the middle of a period, only the occasional person was seen, getting a drink of water, using the restroom, or plainly avoiding class. There was an overarching sense of calmness, but my heart began to beat faster and faster as we approached the main office.

       “Mr. Wilson, Ms. Turner, care to tell me why you two are here instead of in class right now?” the front office lady demanded upon seeing us.

       “We were sent to Mr. Hughes, Ms. Smith,” Eric said.

       As if on cue, the principal’s office door swung open, and the lean man walked out. “Eric, Elizabeth, what are you two doing here?” he questioned, not even asking us into his office.

       “We got sent out of math class,” Eric replied, doing all the talking, as I’m sure the administration was probably fairly familiar and fond of him.

       “Why?” the man asked, running a hand through his hair.

       “For laughing? I’m not really sure.”

       “Ms. Gardner?” he asked knowingly.

       “Ms. Gardner,” Eric confirmed.

       “Well, I don’t really want to send you two back to class, so do you guys want to have a free period right now? Go down to the library, work on homework or something?” the man suggested reasonably.

       “Sure,” Eric shrugged, not arguing the incredibly fair arrangement.

       “I’ll be sure to speak with her,” he assured us.

       “Thanks, Mr. H.,” Eric said, waving to him as we departed down the long maze of halls once again.

       “No problem!” the principal called after us.

       We walked in a soothing silence, before Eric decided to break it. “First, you plan on throwing a party, then, you get sent to the principal’s office. Wow, Liz, in the past hour you’ve really taken a turn down the rebellious route.” If he only knew…

       “Yeah, just trying to beef up my rep.” He laughed, as I noticed that his hand was still attached to mine. I grinned, realizing that there was something about Eric that made me happy. He was a good guy, and I enjoyed spending time with him. Regardless of what anyone else told me, I liked Eric Wilson, and I was almost positive that he liked me… or who he thought I was.