Page 29 of The Glass Girl

Ms. Green shakes her head. “Bella, I can’t make exceptions at this point. Quarter grades are due Wednesday. I’m sorry about your circumstances, but as I said, I’ve already given your group an extension.”

“But it’s righthere,” I say desperately. “It’s not like you were going to check your submission box at midnight. I mean, comeon.”

My heart says:Just give up, you can’t win this one.

My brain says:This isn’t fair and she needs to know.

I slap my hand on Ms. Green’s desk, hard.

Cherie sucks in her breath and steps away. “I’m out,” she says, walking back to her easel.

“Bella,” Ms. Green says sharply. “I’m going to suggest you stop now and go back to your easel. Agreed?”

Dawn tugs my arm. “It’s okay, Bella. It’s not that big a deal.”

I shake her off. “This is bullshit.”

Behind me, the class gets really quiet.

“Bella,” Ms. Green says. She stands up. She’s so much taller than I am that I can see the tiny, pale hairs on the underside of her chin. “Go back to your easel. Now. Unless you want to take a walk to administration.”

I slam my laptop shut and walk back to my easel, my head down so I don’t have to see all the kids looking at me.

“Weirdo,” someone murmurs.

—

Amber barely acknowledges me as I slide onto the bench next to her at lunch. Cherie slams her tray down, knocking her piece of pizza onto the table. “Way to go, Bella.”

“Drop it,” I say, unwrapping my peanut butter and jelly. It’s pretty much all Dad ever has to make sandwiches for lunch. “I said I was sorry. I had to work. I was tired.”

“It was one simple thing and you said you’d do it.”

“I had to work a double. I was tired. Why didn’tyoudo it, then? I practically did that whole project myself anyway.”

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Cherie takes a bite of her pizza, cheese drooping down to her tray. Her mouth full, she says, “I helped with the slides, too, and the writing.”

“You spelled everything wrong and Dawn wrote the paper.”

“You guys,” Amber says quietly.

Cherie wipes her mouth. “You think you’re so smart, Bella, but obviously you aren’t, because you couldn’t even double-check that you submitted. Were you all fucked up again?”

“Cherie,” Amber says.

My face burns. “Where did that even come from, Cherie? Like you’re one to talk—”

But I stop talking because my heart suddenly drops.

Dylan and Willow are walking down the aisle, holding hands. He looks over at us and gives me a wave. My eyes fill up. I look down at my soggy sandwich.

“Jesus, Bella,” Cherie says. “Get over it already. He’s withhernow. How long are you going to cry about this?Enough.”

I shove my uneaten sandwich back into my lunch bag and cram it into my backpack. Stand up and almost fall over the bench trying to get out just as Kristen is sliding in next to Cherie.

“Go to hell,” I tell Cherie.

“Bella, stop,” Amber says, trying to grab my arm, but I jerk away from her.

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