Crestfallen

"Hey, nutcase!" My best friend called from the other end of the hall. Half the students looked up at her and then over at me. I mentally face palmed myself as I walked down the hallway with my head down. My hand subconsciously tightened around the strap of my backpack.

"Thanks for that." I muttered, angrily running my tan hand through my golden blonde hair.

Her big brown eyes held innocence as she shrugged. "Thanks for what?" She asked with a malicious smile on her glossy lips.

"As if you don't know." I sneered playfully, tucking my backpack into my locker. "You know, you'd think the school would build lockers wider than the average width of a backpack. Then again, maybe they're just trying to decrease the amount of kids that get shoved into lockers."

"Yeah, maybe." Macy replied, shutting her locker with her binders in hand. "Or they didn't pass geometry because they had Mr. Labonte as a teacher." She snapped, holding out her math exam which was marked as a 46% in angry red marker.

"Ugh, so true." I agreed, giving her a sympathetic look. A loud yelp echoed through the hallway and I looked over to my left. Lo and behold, a kid was behind shoved into a locker by none other than Jeremy Storm, the school prick.

Most people consider him to be the resident bad boy, but in my eyes, he's just one of the many bad guys who seem to rule this world by walking all over people.

"I guess my locker assumption was inaccurate, you win," I said, smiling at Macy. She leaned against her locker which was conveniently beside mine.

Her eyes, however, weren't on me. Her brown doe eyes were trained on the figure who was currently smashing some poor kid into the lockers. I turned around and watched him, cringing every time there was a crunching sound.

"He has so much pent up anger, I actually almost felt bad for him for a moment there," I told her, unable to remove my eyes from the scene. No one dared stand in his way. Everyone loved him and he loved them as long as they didn't get on his bad side.

"I'd help him get rid of all that pent up energy any way he wanted." She purred, lust pooling in her eyes. I cringed as I turned around to fully face her instead of craning my neck.

"Please tell me you mean that you'd be willing to be his personal punching bag, not what I think you mean." I tried, pleading with my eyes. She smirked at me and let out a small laugh.

"Nope, I'd let him park his car anywhere he wanted." She cooed, putting her hands on my shoulders, purposely trying to make me uncomfortable. She was very successful.

"Oh, look! I think I hear Mr. Labonte calling me for some geometry, I'll see you for second period!" I lied as I shuffled away from my sex-addicted best friend, I was pretty sure she was a virgin though... I shivered as I replayed her words in my head. Ga-ross.

I headed into French class and sat in the back of the class. It's too early in the morning for another language.

The bell rang and students started filing in. Mme. Breault started teaching us subjunctive verbs and how to conjugate them. Yes, it's just as boring as it sounds. Ten minutes into class, someone opened the door without warning.

I stopped my heavy note-taking to see who it was. To my surprise, it was Jeremy Storm. He handed her a bright pink slip of paper and watched her as she read it.

"Transferring from Spanish halfway

into the first semester? That's quite risky, isn't it? She questioned aloud. When he made no move to reply, she simply smiled. "Bienvenue dans notre Classe de français, j'espère qui vous parlez au moins un peu de Français." [Welcome to our French class, I hope you speak at least a little bit of French.]

"Nope, not even a little bit." He replied with a smirk. I was confused. Did that mean he understood French because he knew what she said, or he didn't because he said he didn't?

"Well, take a seat. Since Mr. Pearson isn't here today, you can take his spot." She told Jeremy. I looked to my left, the only seat beside mine, and silently cursed Carter for not being here today of all days.

He strode over to the seat like he owned the place, which he probably did because rumour has it that he's almost as rich as Bill Gates. Okay, maybe not that rich, but it gives you the gist.

Mme. Breault continued teaching and Jeremy ruffled through his pencil case, making a surprisingly loud ruckus. Soon enough, he gave up whatever he was doing with a huff. Next thing I knew, his finger was poking my elbow. I flinched away and he looked at me amusedly.

I waited for him to say something, but he seemed mesmerized by something. I looked behind me to see if Tiffany, the queen bee, was standing behind me for some reason, but she wasn't. When I turned back around, he seemed to have snapped out of it.

"Can I borrow a pencil?" He

whispered, making direct eye

contact with me and flashing me his

pearly whites. I nearly fainted on the spot and it was a good thing I wa sitting down because otherwise, I would've fallen due to how wobbly my knees felt. His bright green eyes reeled me in until I swore could see the stars in them.

Snapping back to reality before it was weird, I coughed like the weirdo I am. Well, no. I choked like the weirdo I am. I started coughing uncontrollably because I was

choking on my own spit. I've pet

cringed so hard in my life. Once l

finished, half the class was cel

at me and the teacher was eyeing me wearily.

"Ms. Hall, are you okay?" She asked me, only further embarrassing me.

"Peachy," I replied, giving her a cringe-worthy thumbs up. I turned back to see Jeremy on the verge of laughter. Hilarious.

I angrily opened my pencil case and whipped out a freshly sharpened pencil. I frustratedly slammed it down on his desk, making a louder sound than I thought it would've made. Again, I wanted to crawl into a ball and die.

For the rest of the class, I kept my head down and I hardly even looked up to see the board. When the bell finally rang, I got out of there as fast as I could, rushing to biology so that I could tell Macy how I ruined my life in the span of one French class.