Page 8 of I Despise You
“Yeah.” I glance over my shoulder, and there he is.
Still watching me.
Still smiling, as if he’s really happy that I looked back.
It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not here for him, and I don’t care what he says or wants.
Vanessa points me in the right direction and waves as she strides away. I enter the classroom that’s smaller than the ones I’m used to, but the groups here are smaller too. Everyone has their own desk and a chair with enough space for all their things.
I take a seat at one of the desks in the back, and just as I’m about to get my notebook out of my bag, a brunette stops next to my chair, tapping her foot against the floor.
“You’re in my seat,” she says, her tone icy.
I look up at her as she crosses her arms.
“Sorry. I’m new.” I get up, giving her an apologetic smile.
“Yeah, I know.” She scoffs as she brushes past me and sits down in the chair I just vacated.
Okay. She and I aren’t going to be friends, but whatever.
I look around the classroom as everyone takes their seats, and I wait to see which desk will remain empty. When Chase strolls through the door, laughing about something with a blond guy by his side, I avert my gaze.
Wonderful. I shouldn’t be surprised Chase and I are in the same class, but I would’ve been happier if I’d avoided him completely.
Once the classroom fills in, I want to groan. The only empty desk is the one right in front of Chase.
What have I done to deserve this?
But this isn’t elementary school, and if Chase wasn’t lying about being the top student, then he won’t have any time to pay attention to me.
With a resigned sigh, I trudge across the classroom toward the desk. Just as I’m about to pull out my chair, my foot catches on something and I go down. Chase lets out a laugh.
I was clearly wrong about the elementary school part, because I didn’t just trip. Chase put out his foot out so I’d fall.
I push myself up. My books, notebooks, and pens have spilled out of my bag since I forgot to zip it back up. I try to collect my stuff as quickly as possible, but then I spot Chase picking something up from the floor.
It takes me a second to recognize what he’s holding.
A photo of my family. It was taken on my sixteenth birthday. I don’t know how it got into my notebook—my mom must’ve slipped it in there so it wouldn’t get creases—but now Chase is looking at it with interest.
“Give it back.” I extend my hand, glaring at him, but his attention is fully on the photo.
I wait for him to say something about my dad not being in the photo like some people who don’t know me do, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Chase,” I try again. “Give me the photo.”
This time, I attempt to snatch it out of his hand, but he moves it out of my reach, his eyes lifting to mine.
“Hello, class,” the teacher says from the door, and Chase shoves the photo in his pocket.
What the hell?
I don’t move as I narrow my eyes at him, and he pretends as if nothing is going on at all.
“You must be Liliana,” the teacher says as soon as she lays her eyes on me. “Please step forward and tell us something about yourself.”
I debate if I should tell her about Chase and demand that he return the photo, but I don’t want it to be the first thing everyone will remember about me. I’ll deal with Chase later.
