Permanent Scars

Pinky Promise

September 17, Monday. 11:50 a.m.

My body aches from last night. The walk to school was arduous, and lugging my things between classes has been nothing less than that. At least I'm not alone—everyone else has complained of being sore as well. We did dance very long and hard, after all—until almost four in the morning. So needless to say, none of us got much sleep. Adam seems to be doing well, but I've heard rumor that he doesn't sleep much anyhow, so I'm not really surprised. Dylan is more withdrawn than usual. Algie and Sydney's class schedule is different from ours, so I haven't seen much of them this morning. Mia is absent. My head is cloudy, and I ate birthday cake for breakfast.

   Slumped forward in my seat, trying to pay attention to the chemistry lesson, I chew exhaustedly on the end of my stylus. Chemistry is one of those subjects I have a love-hate relationship with. I am interested in it but can't seem to let that blossom into understanding. To say the least, I'm pretty much a B-minus in chemistry. That's because the math part of it is a pain. Math is not my strong point.

   Beside me, Adam leans back in his seat casually, one leg stretched forward and the other bent normally. He glances at the board, flipping his hair from his eyes every now and then, scribbling down answers. I don't care what anyone says, Adam is a genius. Behind all that snarky gloom and doom, there's a pure genius. He doesn't smother it, either. It shows in everything he does. It also makes other smart people look inadequate, especially because everything seems to be so easy for him. Everything, that is, involved in the academic realm. When it comes to emotional things...not so much.

   We're all young, let's chalk it up to that.

   Adam's right leg nudges against my left as I start to nod off. He sits up a little straighter, leaning toward me. "Don't fall asleep, it's not that boring. Who knows, you might really need to use this formula one day."

   Giving him a long sideways glance, seeing that he will only smirk tauntingly at me, I finally shake my head and laugh softly. Our chemistry teacher is really laid-back, but we never want to cross him by whispering too much. He is usually too focused on the lesson to notice many of the shenanigans that go on toward the back of the classroom. Adam and I sit in one of the middle rows, smack-dab between all the hooligans. But that's okay.

Adam's knee is still so close to mine as he resumes his prior position, leaning back as far as his chair will let him and adjusting his slouchy beanie, involuntary biting at the rings on his lower lip. It bothers me that I've begun to find that attractive.

Maybe that's just the birthday cake talking.

Oops, he caught me staring. "What?" He tips his head inquisitively. I shake mine to clear it, to dismiss him.

"Nothing."

"Sure, I believe you." Sarcasm smothers each word, making me wonder if perhaps he knows I find some of his habits attractive and he wants to see how much further he can test me. Maybe he's trying to play me. After all, it's no secret that he can flirt.

Well, that's not happening, buddy. You're just a friend—maybe even my best friend—and I can think you're cute if I want, but that doesn't mean anything. At least it means nothing to me.

Seriously Amber, you think he's cute?
  
   Yeah, I do. There's nothing wrong with that.

   Golly, my head's a mess. I probably should have stayed home today.

   It feels like an eternity before the class wraps up and we are released for lunch period.

   Putting my things away in my locker and digging around, it appears I've forgotten my lunch. Adam stands nearby patiently, watching me rummage. "Any luck?" He asks.