Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine:

Bryce's head snaps up from where he's talking to our teacher, Ms. Johnson. He looks completely bored and irritated when he looks up to find the source of the comment.

"Yeah, it is. What's the big deal?"

He's staring down the poor boy that pointed out his presence in the first place, and if looks could kill, the poor guy would be slaughtered.

His name is Christopher and he was in the school musical with me last year. He seems generally friendly, something I couldn't say to describe Bryce, but I know Bryce well enough, and although he comes across as very aggressive, I know that he wouldn't actually hurt anybody without a good reason.

"Nothing. I just had heard people talking and was wondering if it was true," Christopher says softly, sinking back into his seat.

The girl sitting next to him pats him on the shoulder, and I look back to Camila, who is watching Bryce closely.

"He'd be a fun project," she says, and I feel something snap inside of me.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, the words rushing out.

She smiles, still watching him closely, saying, "He's funny, but definitely needs some fixing up. Kind of rude clearly, but he's hot and probably just has been through some things. I'm sure there's still something to salvage."

Her speaking about Bryce like this while he's merely twelve feet away really seems to bother me. I feel suddenly like I have to stand up for him as he isn't tuned in to defend himself.

It's odd that I feel the acute need to do so as I can't be certain he would stand up for me in the same way.

"I think he's fine the way he is. I don't think you should be trying to change him at all," I say, trying really hard to keep my voice fairly quiet but clearly failing a bit as Camila raises her eyebrows at me.

She shrugs, continuing with, "You really think so? He seems like he probably has anger issues."

I blink at her. "Yeah, I think he's great. And I'm sure he doesn't have any issues."

"You're quite defensive of him," Camila observes, and I don't bother responding.

I look up to find Bryce walking over to us, and he grabs a chair from one of the tables lining the walls of the classroom to pull up next to me. He sits down promptly, leaving me right in the middle of him and Camila. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms, which seems to give the pair the perfect chance to spark up another conversation.

Camila leans forward, biting her lip. She rests her elbows in her lap and then her chin in her hands, and I take note of the cable knit sweater she's wearing in a deep plum colour.

She's paired the top with dark jeans and black shoes, and it's the first time I've ever gotten a look at her appearance. She seems to be very put together, and even thinking back, she also seems to carry herself very well. Whenever I see her walking in the hallways, she extrudes a certain type of confidence. I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy her a little bit.

"I never got to ask, but how are you liking it here so far?" she questions, and I quickly notice something weird.

Bryce isn't bothering to make any eye contact whatsoever, and he's instead staring right down at the ground.

"I'm from here. I only lived in the US for a few years, and they certainly were not my finest years by any means," he says, cracking a joke but not even smiling himself.

"Right, right," she says, catching herself. "I definitely knew that. We went to the same school for a little while. You're enjoying being back, though?" she asks, and Bryce nods at the ground.

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