Chapter 8

Today-- Of. All. Days-- had to be paired assignments.

This Lit. Genre doze fest paired us new kids together.

Forcing the hands of vultures, to spread the rumor... I 'hated' Jared Prince... like wildfire.

"You must think yourself quite the star attraction? I bet," sneered some girl in Clarissa's grade, "considering your step-mother cajoled dear Daddy into sending a classless, delinquent shrew like you off to boot camp."

And with frightening force, forcing my body of its own accords at attention, the older girl slammed my locker. I would like to emphasize that bit. Mine. Where I keep my pretty bookbag and magazines.

There was a twinge of laughter seeing me so petrified, but promptly got back to the matter at hand. "Even if you were a real Forcett, not just the unfortunate tag-along nothing gives your type the right to mouth off that way to the mayor's son," the girl scolded in a nasty tone. "Just a bit of advice, Private Witless."

She walked off, releasing me, to slump to the floor. Staring out, not even tucking in my legs, right for the whole hallway beside me, above me, in front of me, all to see.

No one paid me any mind. Not even to scoff.

And I wouldn't have minded. I was quite the stupid sideshow.

Then I sensed the lingering presence, a not haranguing or berating one, beside me.

Daring a glance, I saw the source of my misfortune. His Majesty Jared.

I huffed, finally doing the reasonable thing and tucking into a tight, nice little shell.

"Sorry," Jared said sounding as down as me, "I am. I-- I didn't want to cause you trouble, not anyone. I'll be sure to tell the other girls to leave you alone."

I said nothing. Just leapt to my feet, bag hitched up my arm and made a silent, reprieving exit.