Page 16 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson
I moved to help her as Storm remained standing, her glare at the other girl intense.
“Watch where you're going,runt,” Storm said unkindly, and it caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. Ihatedbullies.
As I scanned the stuff that had spilt from the girl’s bag, I grabbed a couple of mobile phones and held them out to her. She snatched them from me and shoved them into the bag with a glance behind her.
The pretty redhead was a skittish little thing.
As she collected some papers and hastily pushed them inside the backpack, I saw a peek of what looked like more phones in there. How many mobiles, or should I say cell phones, did a girl need? Maybe it was an American thing. I shook off the thought and gathered up more of her stuff.
“Here you go,” I said, passing her the last of the books she’d dropped. She glanced up warily towards Storm, who now had her hands on her hips, her body language showing she had little tolerance for clumsiness.
“Thanks,” the girl said, shoving the books into her tatty rucksack.
Pushing to my feet, I watched her scurry away as Storm threaded her arm back through mine again. After what she had said to the redhead, the gesture annoyed me, and I wanted to shake free.
Storm had looked down her nose at the other girl and considered her lacking (regarding social status, anyway). My sense of self-preservation kicked in before I could pull away.
Don’t piss off the popular girl on day one, you’ll only regret it.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Who was that?” There were lockers on one side of us, and clusters of kids huddled around. They were either in groups, talking on their phones or getting their books out.
“Who?” Storm said as we approached the open door of a classroom at the end of the hall we’d travelled down twice now. She was stalling for time. An indication that she didn’t want to go to her next lesson.
“The red-haired girl,” I prompted as we stopped, and she turned towards me. The crease on her brow vanished.
“That was Harper Radcliffe, she’s a sophomore. She’s also one of Ma Sawyer’s new charity cases. You don’t have to worry about her. She used to live in a stone ender across town until she got kicked out.”
I didn’t have a clue what a stone ender was, but I didn’t say anything. The bell went again, and Storm asked for my schedule.
“Let’s see. AP calc first, and then you have a free period, so I’ll meet you here, at the bubbler.” She pointed to a section of the map which was printed on the back of my timetable. I noted her long, fake french-tipped nails. Harbor Heights’ rules were nowhere near as strict as my old school.
“Bubbler?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s what we call the water fountain.”
“OK, cool. Thanks,” I replied, batting off my judgmental thoughts.
Storm popped her gum again and twirled some hair around her finger, “We can take a break on the bleachers and watch the guys at practice.”
I wasn’t sure who ‘the guys’ were, but I was pleased I wouldn’t have to wander around like a loser with no friends during break time. I wondered if Storm knew Hudson. Knowing my luck, he was probably her boyfriend.
“Laters,” Storm said. And after another brief inspection of my face and body, she flounced off.
I released the breath I had been holding in.
My first class, hopefully, wouldn’t be so bad; it was calculus. I still wasn’t so sure about the subjects I’d chosen, as it had all felt a bit rushed. Usually, in America, you decide what subjects you want to study in eleventh grade much earlier in the year. I’d had to choose mine with backwards and forward emails to my father.
Everyone had already found their seats when I walked into the room. I had to take a table at the front of the room as the kids had filled in from the back. An awkward cough fell into the silence as I rooted through my backpack.
A ball of paper hit my back and landed on the floor beside me, but I ignored it.
After the teacher had overenthusiastically introduced me as the new girl, I put my head down and started taking notes.
Although I attempted to hide from it, I was asked a few questions. While answering them, I heard snickers from the back of the classroom. People mimicked my British accent. Great. There was also a girl on my left who stared at me the entire time. She had ombre hair, black at the root and purple at the tip, another blatant rebel.
As the bell went, I waited for the hustle and bustle of students racing from the room like their lives were in danger before I pushed to my feet.
Gathering my books, a shadow fell over me, and I glanced up.
