Page 3 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
“But hey,” I grabbed his bag again, “But itisyour problem.”
He stopped so abruptly that I crashed into him again, a sweet, sexy smell assaulting my senses. Gah...what was wrong with me...associating the word ‘sexy’ with Mitchell Finlayson. I had to be out of my mind, my sugar levels were probably dropping drastically. I desperately needed food.
“Can you let go of my bag?” he said in a calm, composed tone.
I sheepishly dropped my hand, forming a clenched fist by my side. “I’m going to report you to Miss Barber if you don’t own up. Ebony and Shavaun have been kicked out of the volleyball team because of what you did, and we’ve got a tournament coming up.” My face was burning up with rage.
Mitchell shrugged and the top corner of his lip turned up in a sneer. “Whatever,” he muttered, and stupidly I was thinking how pink andwell defined his lips were, a perfect Cupid’s bow. He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder, seeming to stand to his full impressive height and swaggered off, leaving me incensed.
Mitchell Finlayson didn’t care one tiny bit!
Not about the volleyball team, not about the twins.
I felt myself shaking, not sure if it was because of his arrogance or my blood sugars. I unzipped my backpack pocket and took out a handful of jellybeans, gulping them down. I always kept a stash of candy and snacks in my bag for emergencies—having a ‘low’ or going ‘hypo’ was one of my biggest worries. Hypoglycemia happens when blood sugar levels get too low. It had happened twice at school—once in volleyball training last year, which wasn’t too bad because it was only amongst the team and they all knew about my condition. The other time was on a photography field trip where we’d been walking around a lake. I had underestimated the amount of activity we’d have to do, and ended up dizzy and sweaty. Luckily, my teacher recognized the situation and gave me a sugary snack. The class thought I’d had an attack of heat stroke.
Those incidents led me to be extra vigilant about my condition. My worst fear wasn’t of the effects of hypoglycemia itself—shakiness, confusion, blurred vision, seizures or unconsciousness, but that it might happen in front of my classmates, or the whole school.
I didn’t want to be different.
I didn’t want others to know I was different.
I made it to the cafeteria, taking out my lunch bag, turkey salad on wholewheat, an apple and a bag of natural popcorn, aka flavorless. Mom packed it everyday and it was never full of surprises. Oh, sometimes it contained blueberries. Blueberries were considered a treat—yes, that’s what my life had come to. I bit into my sandwich, keeping my eyes off of the chocolate cupcake Maddie was devouring. Chocolate, cake—two of life’s pleasures reduced to occasional status.
“Are you okay?”Bella asked.
I nodded, chomping down my sandwich in a rush, hoping it would normalize my faculties—the racing heart, flushed cheeks and light headedness. In between bites I relayed to the girls Ebony’s disclosure that Titan and Mitchell were the culprits.
“I’m going to Miss Barber,” Maddie said, already abandoning her seat, “This needs to get sorted.”
“Wait!” I cried, having not had the chance to tell them about my encounter with Mitchell, “Hold up.”
“Stay,” Maddie said, “finish your lunch.” She knew I had to inject myself after eating. “I’ll talk to Miss Barber.” Bella, Tanchia and Shay were by her side, leaving me with the younger members of our team. We continued to bemoan the exclusion of the twins.
I munched through my apple, sharing the popcorn with the girls. Nobody took more than one handful, no surprises there. It was like I’d had to train my tastebuds to enjoy bland foods.
With the bell imminent, I gathered up my bag in preparation for another trip to the bathroom to inject my insulin. It involved lifting my top and sticking the pen needle into my belly. It was possible to do it discreetly, but going to the bathroom ensured privacy. And I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing me.
As I headed towards Maddie’s locker, hoping to hear what Miss Barber intended to do with this new information, the second random encounter of the day occurred. That’s right, guess who slammed right into me again? Okay, so maybe it was me who ran into him because I was texting, but the glare Mitchell Finlayson gave me was that of pure disdain, as if Miss Barber had confronted him over the equipment room saga and he’d been sentenced to detention for the rest of the semester. But surely that couldn’t have happened already.
It made me swallow the apology I was about to offer, though the way he then gently righted me and stepped out of my way made me come over all dizzy again.
Like I was having another low.
But that was impossible when I’d just eaten my lunch!
Trying to remember which direction I was going in, I took in a deep breath, watching his tall figure disappear around a corner. Why was I shaken up, and why did it feel like I was surrounded by a cloud of his sweet masculine scent? Did Mitchell Finlayson spray on Axe between classes?
“Hey, Harper!” Tanchia and Bella came alongside, flanking me. “Maddie’s talking to Miss Barber now, and I think she’s calling the twins to her office,” Tanchia said.
“So hopefully they’ll tell her what really happened,” Bella added.
“And get themselves out of trouble,” I said.
“Yeah, well I guess they were scared to tell the truth. Y’know, no one wants to get on the wrong side of Titan and Mitch,” Tanchia said.
I gulped. She was right. Getting on the bad side of those boys was asking for a miserable existence. And I knew the wrath of Mitchell Finlaysonbeforehe’d been accused. Heaven help me when he found out it was me who had snitched.
IT TOOK TWO DAYS FORthat to become my reality.
