For Our Broken Hearts (Book 2)

Chapter 3

The walk to our first class was very silent and awkward...and not only because it was with my ex-best friend who had found me face down in my bedroom but everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) was staring at me. I'm not certain if word had got out about why I had been away or if this was just how people greeted each other now: with hard blank eyes as if they could see right into my soul.

I tried my best to avoid them and held my head straight. I had been to my own personal hell and back, the halls of high school were not going to get the better of me. As I walked into the History classroom, Abriana two steps ahead of me, the whispers erupted.

"Okay, settle down guys," A slender man with glasses cocked on the brink of his nose waved his hands around, instructing the pupils to hush. He continues, "Ah, this must our new student. Nicole Sinclair, is it?" (I wasn't at all new.)

I nodded with a small crooked smile. He handed me a packet of papers and urged me to take a seat. Abriana looked at me slightly before wondering off to find her own seat. There was a seat available behind her and one available to the far left beside an Asian boy who dismantled any stereotypes with a rugged uniform and obviously empty backpack. I chose sitting beside him over staring at the back of Abriana's head for an hour long.

The class chronicled the History of the U.S. (though I referred to it as robbery more so than history) and was morbidly boring, seemingly taking forever to end. When the bell finally signaled, the students (who had been giving me the once over the whole class time) rushed out. Abriana, who had purposely packed her bag slowly, walked over to me.

"Next, we have AP English," she didn't meet my eyes before turning on her heels and heading for the door...with the expectation of me following suit.

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English class was a bit more bearable since the instructor was a perky elderly woman who dressed in quirky colors and looked like a television character. I had developed a liking to writing at Burkley but hadn't done much of late since it reminded me of Rolan. I shook my head quickly to push the thought of him away.

After English was lunch. I was not particularly excited about the cafeteria since it would be gossip central about why Nicole Sinclair hadn't been present for a little over a year. Abriana, who looked just as displeased as I did, walked with me in silence. When we got there, I stood cemented by the doors, observing the buzz of the room, the hustle and bustle of the lunch line and most of all...how clique-like the environment was.

"I usually eat with some people from my Art class," she muttered out, (we use to eat together). Was this an invitation to follow her or a dismissal of any possible hope I might have had to eat with her? It didn't matter which it was, I walked away from her toward an empty table at the absolute back of the room.

As I walked, I got eyes of question and scorn. I threw my backpack down and sat slouched into the chair.

Indeed, this was going to be a long fucking semester.