Pacific Bell High

> XXII <

Mia closed her locker with more force than necessary. Cristina jumped back and clutched her books near her chest.

"I hate Ciara so much." Mia growled out straight after. Cristina had cleared her throat slightly and Mia looked over to her.

"The girls perfected the routine yesterday." She had said after. Mia raised an eyebrow questioningly and laid against her locker.

"I'd have to see it to believe it myself." She told her. Cristina opened her mouth to probably protest, but Mia shook her head. "Cristina, you think that everything that looks good is perfect. It's not. I trust that you did a great job, but, the others. . . not so much."

Cristina frowned at her best friend, but nodded in understanding. "I have to go to class." She told her, giving Mia a small smile before walking away and down the hall.

She looked over some of the students heads, spectating each of them. Some were on their phones, others were chatting among their friends. . . each had passed her with a wave or smiled in greeting.

She huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. She wanted say why she was in a foul mood — it had to be because Ciara locked her in a room with her, Mia. . .

And the girl who loved to hang out with Michael.

Who she saw earlier that day with him. Mia breathed out harshly. Then looked to see the same face that had clouded her head daily — and she was growing frustrated because of it.

She glared down at Michael, and she saw him look at her for a millisecond before he turned to face forward: head held high and walking with a straight posture. He was not the same boy that avoided everyone's gaze and always stood hunched over, waiting to become somebody's punching bag.

He still emailed her; the last one had been about the project that Mr. Lowe had assigned them to do. He wrote: Watch the documentary called Blackfish. It's a on an orca called Tilikum. Write down your reflections and send them to me, I'll put them in the essay.

He hadn't even asked what she wanted to do. Just went and gave the order. As if he had the upper hand. And that wouldn't matter if she argued back because he never wrote back when she decided to reply to him.

"Freak." She spat just low enough for only both of them to hear it. She thought he would freeze, that maybe that imaginary wall he put up would break down and he'd go back to the Michael she would never look twice at.

Instead, he kept on walking — his shoulders even rose about an inch before he brung them back down. A sign of indifference. As if he didn't care.

And that brung fury within Mia.

"What's with the long face, doll?" Ciara's annoying voice came into ear range. "Cheer up!"

She laughed at her own pun and Mia only glowered at her, her lips set into a thin line. Ciara opened her locker and exchanged the books she'd need for the next class.

"Hey, how come you didn't tell Justianny that you dated Martin?" Mia asked, as she crossed her arms over her chest. Although she hated when Ciara was in her mind for even a mere second, yesterday's conversation still stuck to her.