Forget me lots (Completed)

4. River 🐝

Rising to another school day, I dangle my feet off my uncomfortable single bed and weigh up my options. I could walk to the hellhole for a change. Pros: Time to myself. Some exercise can't hurt. No annoying friends to pester me from the other day at the park and my gaping incident with the new girl. Cons: Probably ten or more incoming texts from those same friends to hassle me over said incident all the way to school.

I could wake up my mother and ask for a ride. Pros: none. She doesn't know how to drive. Cons: I can live another day of being freaking tormented about who gets to be my man of honor at the wedding with the look-at-me-I'm-so-weird-in-my-teal-dress girl.

I could call my dad, who's in France on business. Just to say hi. Ha.

I could feign feeling unwell. Pros: sleep all morning and play Call of Duty all afternoon—after silencing my cell, duh. Cons: I don't get to confirm Thaddeus' statement, who told me he saw her on Monday roaming our school hall.

Twenty minutes later, Thaddeus parks his dinosaur truck in my driveway. I wave at the gang from the porch. Lorna is applying red lipstick while Michaela holds a tiny, round mirror in front of her face. She chuckles at her friend's comment to keep it straight, and Sebastian howls like a wolf. Something like, "Red turns me on, baby!" I try nonchalance. It backfires and yes, I was right about them getting on my nerves.

#LongestRideEver.

Professor Ortiz stands like a flamingo in front of her class, one foot scratching the back of her leg with a black leather, high-heeled stiletto. How she keeps her balance remains a mystery. Speaking of another unsolved one: the reason I took this AP class in Advanced Literature.

"Okay, everyone," she says, determination etched in her sharp features, "today we'll be reading poetry from Plath."

A collective groan sets her in the mood for some lecturing on the importance of Plath's life and works. How she struggled with depression and how mental illness is to be taken seriously.

"Open your books, page thirty-four, poem Crossing the wa—"

The door opens, interrupting the class, and all gazes fly to the newcomer. It's her. My heart skips a beat and sinks at the same time—is that even possible? She might be here to haunt me... Still wearing that ridiculous dress. Still carrying her hobo bag, which looks unnecessarily heavy. Her hair is all over the place and those damn red-framed glasses make her green eyes huge.

"So sorry for interrupting," she says, taking me by surprise. I hadn't expected her voice to be so cool and defiant. Damn it.

Professor Ortiz stares at her for a second. "You must be the new transfer." She looks at her notebook and continues, "Dawn Gray. Yes, you came highly recommended. Impressive GPA."

"Chubby and nerdy. What a cliché," somebody behind me whispers. Lorna. Others laugh along. Michaela and Theresa.

She stands there, aiming her flaring eyes at us. The laughter stops, consumed by her molten gaze. My focus travels down her squared shoulders and lands on her full chest. My stomach somersaults. Her curves are alluring. I need to chill.