(A.N. - artist credit goes to Lora Zombie)
Penny
I've moved seats in Art. I'm on the other side of the classroom to Greg. He hasn't even glanced in my direction for the whole period, but there's a perpetual glare on his face.
The teacher is outside shouting at Alice.
I put my pencil down, take my phone out of my bag and slip into the supply cupboard.
New Message:
Recipient: Ozzie
Enter message...
I peek out of the crack in the door in time to see Alice give Mr Germaine the middle finger.
Hey. Are you at school today?
I hear Greg laughing at something, but it's harsh and sarcastic. My text fails to send.
It's lunch time, and I am mulling over the encounter I just had with Alice. It went like this:
Her: "Look, what's your deal?"
Me: "I don't have a deal."
Her: "Stop fucking staring at me, it's creeping me out!"
Me: "Sorry."
I thought staring at someone was meant to be seen as flattering, but clearly not.
This whole time I've been in a ferocious battle with the other half of my head, which is screaming constantly about kissing Lucy.
I can't listen to it because if I slip up and let it squeak even a whisper at me, my face gets hot.
Mr Germaine gave my work a 'Hmm'. He said I have 'realistic technique' but my 'chosen language is inappropriate'. I depicted four little girls with their shirts spelling 'fuck'.
To me, that's purely metaphorical. There's nothing inappropriate. At least I didn't cover it in bubbles - believe me, it's very hard not to do that.
Someone has just taken a seat next to me.
That's unusual.
It's a girl. She's chewing on some sandwich with an eloquently content expression.
I don't know how anyone can eat without thinking of the fat.
She focusses her gaze on me. "Have you eaten?"
I can tell by the look in her eyes that she's one of those people who would care if I told the truth.
So I don't.
"Yeah, I got out of class early and finished lunch quickly. I need to study."
She raises an eyebrow, not fully buying it.
Topic change.
"What's your name?"
She snorts, but accepts the question and swallows her food. "Anna. What's yours?"
"Penny. Or Pen."
"Nice. What's it short for?"
"Don't laugh."
"I won't."
"Penelope."
She laughs anyway, but I don't mind.
YOU ARE READING
Bubbles
RomanceI like bubbles in the air - I like watching them meander upwards, into the clouds. She likes bubbles in her alcohol - she likes them searing down her throat, and settling in her stomach. (A.N. - this was written long ago and is cringeworthy)
