Page 7 of Crybaby

So I burn things. Letterboxes, fences, small bugs, my hair, and, more recently, my school gym.

I guess you’d call that a cry for help.

And now, I’ve been given one last chance to prove I can behave in society by being placed with my aunt and uncle, who are sending me to a new school where no one knows anything about my past.

The first day of school is like being put in a group assignment with a bunch of morons.

I’ve walked half an hour in new shoes to get here, so most of my anxiety has settled in my blistered feet. I’m an observer; I like to watch and remain passive unless someone rattles me, then my response is like a catfight on a fence.

I have my earbuds in, pretending to listen to music so I don’t have to interact with anyone or make small talk. I’m watching people go by and giving them all a soundtrack to the way they move.

High school jock—blond, broad shoulders, square jaw—walks down the hall with his head turned to the side to see who is staring at him. His track is “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles.

As he walks past the lockers, girls spin around to say “hi” every time the song hits watermelon sugar ‘high.’

Then there are gangsters—groups of guys who wish they were living in the hood but really go home to Daddy’s mansion while their mom prepares their lunch for the next day. They push their uniform pants down super low and cock their ties to the side.

They walk like they’re carrying a week of shopping in both pockets, and all I’m hearing is the song “Fuck Tha Police.”

I start laughing, and I’m suddenly aware of a body standing way too close to me.

“Care to share?”

Turning, I don’t know if this is fate or bad luck, but standing before me is the guy from last night. He looks different in a uniform, but I wouldn’t forget those piercing eyes.

It takes a lot to shock me, but what the actual fuck?

Last night, I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, let alone a guy who looks likeJacob Elordiand Superman had a baby. Jet-black hair and golden eyes stab at my senses, but it’s not just his good looks that get me. It’s the fact that underneath all that, I sense something…more.

Our meeting was far from what most would call normal, but the moment between us, me standing in my bunny suit and him skulking in the shadows, was normal to us.

However, I have the best poker face you’ve ever seen. My walls are high, so good luck getting over them.

I can hear him clearly, but pretend my music is too loud.

“Huh?” I respond without taking my earbuds out.

A slanted smirk spreads from cheek to cheek, revealing he doesn’t buy my story. Smartandattractive—it doesn’t seem fair.

The bell rings, and I’m shuffled through the crowd toward my first class.

“Good morning, everyone. Take your seats! Take your seats!” shrieks a small woman wearing pumps and a cardigan draped over E cups.

Every schoolboy’s wet dream, I’m sure.

I wonder if tall, dark, and annoying has paid her a visit yet. I’m sure he came out of a woman’s house last night. He had pink lipstick on his neck and smelled of expensive perfume.

I take a seat next to the window and watch the teacher banging her hand on the table. The room smells like leather shoes and hairspray. I put my head down and pretend to be busy with something. The principal of the school enters the room and addresses the class.

“Students. Your regular teacher, Mrs. Jamieson, will be on leave due to a personal emergency involving a house fire. To quash any rumors that may arise, she is safe and in good health.

“Miss Knox will be taking over until further notice. Please give her your attention and respect. Over to you.” He nods toward her breasts and leaves the room.

House fire? Please.

It was one fucking rose bush…and an ugly one at that.

My cheeks suddenly heat, and on instinct, I turn over my shoulder discreetly to seehimslouched back in his seat, watching me with those insightful eyes. He doesn’t shy away from openly staring at me from under his disheveled hair, which pisses me off. Even though he is privy to my secret, that doesn’t mean we’re going to bond.

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