Classic Novel
Chapter 24
Sitting in my usual seat in the second row of the lecture hall, I absentmindedly flick through the pages of my textbook. The sound of laughter makes me look up, and I stifle a groan as three girls make their way along the row to sit near me. The front couple of rows are usually for people like me who sit alone or are a little unusual, for lack of a better word. Not for the popular girls, which these three clearly are. Being an outcast all my life, I can tell.
One of them sits beside me and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I offer a faint smile in return.
Her friends sit too. Each of them gives me a quick wave and a smile, and I offer an awkward wave in return. They chatter among themselves, and I tune them out, taking out my battered copy of Wuthering Heights and getting lost in the words of Emily Brontë. After a few minutes, the girl next to me nudges my arm. “Hey, you know her, right?”
I look up from my book and shake my head. “Know who?”
She tuts. “Penelope Nugent. I heard you went to the same high school.”
“Yeah.” I shrug, feigning disinterest. “We weren’t friends though.”
Her nose wrinkles. “No? Well, I heard she’s a bitch.”
That’s putting it mildly, but I don’t say that. Instead, I give another shrug and go back to my book, but the girl beside me is undeterred. “So was she?”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.
I glance up again. “Was she what?”
She rolls her eyes. “A stone-cold bitch? Because she’s still giving off those vibes, you know what I mean?”
Not sure what to say, I nod.
“So you know, right?”
“I guess, yeah,” I admit, even as uneasiness builds in my gut.
The second girl peers over her friend’s shoulder. “Yeah, a bitch, right?”
If only so they will stop talking to me about Penelope Nugent and let me get back to Cathy and her tortured soulmate, I agree with a nod and a polite smile.
The three of them laugh but don’t say anything more to me. Grateful to be done with the conversation, I return to my book and barely suppress a groan when the girl next to me nudges my arm again. “Of course, I also heard that she was actually kinda cool and it was really this freak who made everyone think she was a bitch when she wasn’t.”
Icy fingers of dread curl around my heart, and when I look up again, the friendly smile has disappeared and she’s glaring at me like I’m her mortal enemy.
“This freak peed herself on stage in front of the entire school, and then she tried to say that poor Penelope threw the pee on her. Can you imagine that, freak?”
Shame and anger wash over me, threatening to take me under with the force of their fury, and I fight back the urge to release all my pent-up rage and punch her in the mouth. I glance at the door, ready to bolt, but as I go to gather my things, Professor Drakos walks in.
I close my eyes and remind myself that I can’t afford to keep skipping this class. I’ve already missed over a week because I couldn’t bear to face him and be reminded of anything to do with those three Ruby jackasses. Sure, I have a trust fund paying my tuition, but Montridge still has GPA requirements. If I flunk out of here, I have no future. When I reopen my eyes, his dark gaze is locked on my face. A spark of warmth flares in my chest.
A sudden boldness infuses me and sweeps away my insecurities. These girls have nothing better to do with their time, and they want to make me feel like a loser? I roll back my shoulders and turn to the girl beside me. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t give a single sliver of a fuck what your little group of gutter rats thinks of me.”
Without waiting for her to respond with whatever vitriol she intends to spew next, I turn back to the front of the class and watch the professor roll up his shirt sleeves. Taking several deep breaths, I tell myself that I’m okay. As long as he’s here, I’m okay.
I have no idea why I believe that and zero evidence to base it on, but somewhere inside the deepest part of me, I know without a doubt that it’s true.
After my last class of the day, I head straight for my dorm, unable to stand the thought of being around people for a moment longer. When my phone dings, I consider leaving it for tomorrow but remember that I’m expecting an email about the psychology paper due next week.
But the message in my inbox is from Dr. Underwood, my geology professor, and my heart sinks. I didn’t even know field trips were a thing in college. I scan the body of the message for the details. Apparently, we’re visiting the crystal caves a few miles down the river from campus tomorrow evening, and it’s mandatory. The only bright spot of the whole email is the bus route information he provided, so at least I won’t have to throw myself at any of my classmates’ mercy.
Who plans a field trip on a Thursday night? Maybe I could tell the professor I already have plans that I can’t cancel. I’m pretty sure sitting in my dorm alone eating Cheetos and watching superhero movies is vital to my college education. With a loud groan, I flip over and bury my face in my pillow.