The Good Girl Can Read Minds. ✔

Chapter 4 (Part 1)

Does my nail polish match with my dress?

Oh man, I completely forgot practice is at 3. I have to bang Emily, no matter what.

This school is gross, can't wait to get Outta here.

Calm down, Emma. You're just seeing Hunter behind your boyfriend's back. No biggie.

Wait......Is this the right school?

Did I just shit in my pants, but I just farted!

Now I'm not someone who becomes accustomed to inviting voices in my head after a few hours of my knowledge about it. They simply entered my mind without a filter, as students rushed up and down the hallways. No one would even guess that these were the thoughts currently flowing and keeping them occupied to some extent, as all of them kept a shield between the outside world and their deepest unshared sentences. Laughter kept erupting every now and then from different groups of students who were crowded around the lockers, but the silent voices laced with different emotions didn't fail to reach in my head.

Foreign voices entered my mind and I was able to recognise most of them.Well, few of them.

For instance ,the guy who was grieving for not being able to nail a certain Emily, was Peter Sanchez, the quarterback of the schools football team and the mesmerizing eye candy of all the girls in school. His brown curly hair and washed out blue eyes pulled off his cute look and even managed to attract attention of girls sitting and cheering for their schools- our rival team. It wouldn't even be suprising if they'd leap up from their seats and start jumping in glee whenever Peter would score a goal in the end zone.

The blue-eyed boy , however, loved getting the attention and shamelessly made out in the hallways with a new girl every month. The girls, all of them apparently thought that they could be the ones who could change him but after a couple of nights spent with the brown-haired guy, a certain morning would be followed by a broken heart, a dress lying on the ground waiting to be picked up and worn and a colourful set of words thrown at him, who would casually open the door and wait for them to depart and then continue the same with the other girls.

Needless to say, the guy was a playboy.

He's also the brother of James Sanchez, Ashley's boyfriend. The same inherited blue eyes and blonde hair were enough to attract the female population but unlike his brother, James wasn't the guy made for one- night stands. I don't know about his girlfriend, but James is serious and head over heels for the girl. How do I know this? Because he always wore his heart on his sleeve so it wasn't only me who thought that way.

It was the whole freaking school.

I maneuvered my way towards my locker and as I reached it, I turned in the combination to unlock it. I removed the books which were needed for my first period, English. It was one of those classes which I thankfully didn't share with Ashley. After drowning myself in self-pity yesterday, I came to terms with one thing, that I won't cower away anymore. I'll stand up and face her no matter what she says. So what if I can't retort her back? Atleast I can show her that her venomous words don't the least bit affect me, or atleast try to.

The slap she gave me yesterday didn't actually make that big of a mark on my face. Sure there was a slight imprint of her hand on my cheek but it wasn't that hard of a hit that it would result in swelling. Nothing that big that a bit of foundation couldn't hide. So in a way, her claim on me was as temporary as the mark on my face. I thought as I recalled Amy's words from yesterday.

As I fetched for my books from the locker I noticed James from the corner of my eye, standing a few feet away from me. He was leaning against the line of lockers and kept watching his phone in every few seconds. His broad shoulders were clad with a black leather jacket and he wore a white shirt underneath. His legs were encased in stone-washed jeans finishing off the look with white vans. The tapping of his feet and the frequent checking of any notifications on his device signified his impatience.