"I don't want to be some dumb
blonde stereotype"
In which Lucas Friar meets Farkle's sister.
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James was sitting in her first-period class, history with Mrs.Michaels. Her vintage black leather penny-loafers tapped on the floor as she waited in anticipation to get this whole thing started.
It was a new year and James could only hope it would be better than the last. New year new her or something like that. All she knew was that she was ready for the day to be over and first period had not even started yet.
The kids in the class talked amongst each other, catching up with their friends that they had not seen all summer but all James could do was stare at the clock. She listened as it silently ticked and watched as the small hand landed on the eight.
Just then the morning bell rang and in walked Mrs.Michaels wearing what James could only describe as the ugliest polyester pantsuit she had ever seen.
Mrs.Michaels walked over to the chalkboard and wrote "Gold Rush" and "When: Belgium 1831" right underneath it.
The badly dressed teacher then introduced herself and proceeded to go over roll. James sat as the teacher went down the list alphabetically. As the teacher marked who was absent in walked two girls.
"Transfer slip, boom" "and boom" the girls slammed their transfer slips onto her teacher's desk. James thought the girls were loud and making a scene.
James figured out that the girls were total opposites, she had them all figured out just by looking at them.
The brunette was very bubbly and ditzy. She looked like she couldn't hurt a fly. The blonde on the other hand gave off that wannabe "bad girl" vibe.
The friends introduced themselves but James could see that Mrs.Michaels wasn't having any of it as she said, "You two are late. You two don't talk."
She then pointed to the only empty seats which were apart from each other in the back of the class and said "You two sit there and there."
"There and there?" the girls asked in disbelief. "No, no, we sit together... " claimed Maya. "In the middle of everything" Riley added.
