high-school

In third period Math, we were forced to sit in alphabetical order. Which put me right behind Logan, who was throwing all those passes to Aiden in the scrimmage. He took off his navy blazer and when he leaned forward to write, I could see muscles bulging across his back and shoulders. I can already tell Math is going to suck, but at least I__l have a nice view.It__ like what Grandpa always says about real estate. Location, location, location.

He smiles._It__ a blinding, white-toothed smile._A push-me-over-the-edge-of-the-love-cliff smile._And before I can say a word in protest, he__ got my hand and is dragging me through the carnival.Note to self: Do not stare directly at his smile. It holds special powers.Also: Do not kiss him. His mouth is definitely the source of his power.

Cussing like a commoner wasn't something I was tested on. I picked that habit up outside of high school.

Since the teachers weren't picking, I ended up with a boy with bad body odour. 'You should wear deodorant,' I said to him. 'And you should shut your trap,' he replied.

When I left high school with my diploma, it felt like I was holding a key that would unlock the door to a better world. Every teacher I passed on my way down to the parking lot__he ones who suspended me for questioning them both earnestly and in jest, suspended me for using a contumacious hip-shake as my hallway gait, suspended me for me being me__he ones who would roll their eyes if my behavior was, on the whole, unpatriotic, unjustified, and immature__ell, on the way down that long black declivity, their faces seemed so contorted as if lurking shadows had vice grips locked on their kidneys, wrenching it every time a teacher didn't want to remain upright and respectful. Yes, they didn__ want to me to succeed either! I pledge allegiance to the flag that united every authority in that indefensible school looked at me, even treated me, as if I was a terrorist, or at the very least, unpatriotic. But God__idn__ the red blood, white skin, and blue balls that flagged my physical existence suffice for me to have a little liberty and justice?

No, it's okay. It was just _ weird. No one has ever called me hot before.___eally?_ Trace frowned. __ell, that changes right now._ He ceased walking, stopping in the dead center of the pathway and reached for my hands. __ade Cannon, you are totally hot!_ Trace announced loudly, and people nearby stopped to stare at us after his outburst. I couldn't help but laugh.

Trace was just one of those guys who caught your attention no matter if you had a ring on your finger. He would be hot 'til the day he died. Seriously.

I feel like I might start crying and that I'm going to cry pee.

You can wait as long as you like, pretty one, it won't make any difference. He will never see you as anything more than some victim he has to protect. Why he thinks it his duty to protect you from the inevitable, I do not know... unless he knows something we do not...

By the sound of things, you know nothing about mathematics.''You can put it like that. I'm utterly useless.''Useless is such a harsh word, you are merely... inexperienced. So I thought we could start at the beginning.''I'm not that stupid. I know how to add, subtract and multiply-''I don't mean that kind of beginning...

I sunk to my knees in the spot he had left me. I felt a part of me had just been lost. I was fraught with so many emotions, confused by them all; however, I was hurt more than anything. Hurt to hear him call himself a monster. A monster? Of all the things I thought he was, a monster was not one of them.

Lexie was the leader of the bobble heads. They were a group of girls best described as perfect, plastic, fake and hollow headed, hence the name bobble heads.

Some people were simply created with the right genes and the proper social skills, I figured. They ended up at a lunch table with a group of good-looking individuals, like them, who did what all good-looking individuals managed: making the rest of us feel both envious of them and sad for ourselves, intentional or not. They had activities outside of school and followers online__eople of social necessity who sat at home on Friday nights and 'liked' popular posts in hopes that they, too, might one day be as attractive and personable.

You and I have been friends long enough to know how to treat each other . . . I'm leaving for college. I think I've outgrown the rules.

This just didn__ happen to girls like me. This just didn__ happen to anyone.

In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It__ really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don__ even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.

I liked my face. Ethan liked my face. A lot of people liked my face. Besides, makeup was really just glorified face paint.

Be careful who you call crazy. Some of us think it's a compliment.