Crestfallen

Chapter 3: 3: Milkshake and Fries

The class I dreaded the most - social studies.

School's way to force you to learn about some ancient civilization from centuries ago that everyone

secretly knows will have no relevance in the future.

I hesitantly opened the door and it opened with a creak. I've never skipped class before, but the idea

had planted itself in my mind.

I wandered into the classroom and lost myself in thought.

How does that milkshake and fry thing work? I mean, I understand the sweet and salty appeal, but it's a

milkshake. And a fry. I cannot comprehend the complexity of the mixture.

I took a seat in the back row and kept thinking.

What if someone ate their pizza from the sides? There's no safe place to hold onto! Either the greasy

cheese or the hard bottom. Sure, they could hold onto the crust, but then the other side would droop.

The shrill of the bell pierced the air and students took their seats. Mme. Kingston started droning on

about a topic that no one gave a hoot about and I looked around.

Why wasn't anyone else sitting in the back row?

Suddenly, the door bursted open, revealing two boys. Chris and Liam. With a silent groan, I

remembered that only they sat back here. I was too caught up in my head to remember. They strolled

in and looked right at me before sharing a smirk. I shut my eyes and prayed, please don't sit here,

please God, I'm truly a nice person. I swear I'll do well in school, never curse, never break the law...

Of course they say beside me. I was sandwiched in between them actually. They were the multi-grain

bread slices and I was the lettuce. You see, the rows were 5 X 6. Six seats going forwards, and five

across. Of course, instead of sitting beside each other like they usually would, they decided to make

me uncomfortable like this.

Well, now I'm not going to do well in school, I will curse, and I will definitely break the law.

Okay, maybe not that last one, but I'll follow through on the other two!

"Hey, can I borrow a pencil?" Chris asked from beside me, smirking. I turned to face him and his mop

of hair.

"Can I borrow a comb?" I asked as if he actually owned one. His eyes narrowed at me before he turned

and pulled out his own mechanical pencil from his binder. Dude.

"Do you have an extra pencil?" Liam asked from beside me, full on smiling. I almost shielded my eyes

from his bright teeth, honestly.

"No, Jeremy has it." I huffed, facing the front. They left me alone for the rest of class and I was very

thankful.

My last class of the day was P.E. I wanted to die to say the least. I was not an athletic person. In fact, if

there was a contest for least coordinated, I'd win.

I changed into some track pants and a pink tank top that outlined my curves more than I'd want it to. I

tied my blonde hair into a high ponytail before exiting the change room. I wished Macy and I had P.E

together. Unfortunately, she's in some sort of AP P.E class, whatever that is. Unlike me, Macy was

extremely good at sports. Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

I entered the gym and sighed as I noticed all four of the boys in the corner of the gym. I crossed my

arms and walked over to the bleachers, taking a seat. Occasionally, one of them would look over at me

and I started to feel a little self-conscious. Was my tank top too tight? Were my C-cups a little too

compressed against my chest? Could you see my underwear lines through my pants? Were my shoes

as ugly as I thought they were?

My shoes were sketchers, but hey, it's all I could afford.

I saw Tiffany making her way over to the boys in her spandex shorts and... Bra? There is no way that

could be considered a shirt.

She started talking them up while twirling her vibrant red hair around her finger. She grabbed Jeremy's

bicep and obviously complimented him on them as she squeezed them. I would've cringed if her

attempts weren't successful.

The boys were all eyeing her boobs with gratefulness and lust. Wow, I bet for thanksgiving their prayers

are like this: 'Dear Lord, I am thankful for all the ladies around the world with butt's like Nicki Minaj's

and boobs like Tiffany Manchester's.'

I was to lost in my thoughts to notice a presence beside me. "Casey, right?" They asked me. I shook

my head to bring myself back to reality.

"Yeah." I said, looking up at the boy. "Oh, hey James." I'm not going to lie, being around the boys does

make me a tad nervous, but I try to cover it up as best I can.

"Mind if I sit?" He spoke, his voice deep like the ocean.

"Yes- wait no, sorry, that question always confuses me." I admitted sheepishly. He just grinned at me.

"So does that mean I can sit down or no?"

"Oh, sorry, of course you can sit." I blushed profusely and looked away shyly. He sat down and looked

at me. I started to feel awkward so I decided to start a conversation.

"I thought you'd be enjoying Tiffany's company over there." I stated with a small laugh, watching her

cross her arms over her chest to push up her already gigantic boobs.

"Oh, right. I have this rule: If her butt is bigger than mine, I'm not interested." He told me, causing me to

laugh really hard. I swear I started to cry at some point.

Once I could breathe, I said, "And you'd rather sit with me?"

"Well, yeah, I mean we've never really spoken before, but you seem pretty cool." He replied. I looked

into his brown orbs, searching for a sign of deceitful intentions, but I found none.

"Why is your hair pink?" I blurted all of a sudden. It was an honest question though. Why die your hair

pink when your jet black hair made girls dive at your feet?

"It's kind of personal." He answered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"Oh, sorry. It's okay if you don't want to tell me." I said, trying to console him. I saw that Liam would

occasionally look over at us and I suddenly felt cynical of James being here.

"No, it's fine." James stated before taking a calming breath. "My mother died of breast cancer three

weeks ago."

I gasped and looked at him, really looked at him. He did in fact look like something traumatic had

happened recently. Losing your mother would definitely count as just that.

His appearance was quite disheveled, though most people - including me, would just think that he was

going for the 'I don't care' look. His clothes were fine, but his pastel pink hair looked like he'd just woken

up and left it that way. He had a bit of black stubble growing along his face and his eyes... Well, even

though he did a good job of hiding it, he was mourning for her. The sadness in his eyes made me want

to hug him, but I hardly know so that would be kind of weird I guess.

Instead of showing him the sympathy that most people probably showed him, I gave him

understanding.

His face was a mask of confusion, but he didn't have time to ask why I understood because Mme.

Drinnan blew the whistle, signaling the start of class.