When we don't know who to turn to, sometimes we turn to the ones we least expect.
Luke Salazar is a senior at Bay High School, and he's been pushed, shoved, and shut out for most of his life. Miles Jefferson has been the ringleader of a lot of that...
I can't believe Rachel Cross turned me down. She should be so lucky that I'd want to ask her out. In case she hasn't noticed, she isn't exactly popular. I never understood why, because she's attractive. Maybe it's because she's smart...I think she has a 4.0.
Ms. Johnson, my AP European History teacher interrupted my thoughts.
"Mr. Jefferson, would you mind joining us?" she asked, looking at me over her black horn-rimmed glasses.
"Sorry—what?"
"I asked you a question—what was one of the primary reasons for the French Revolution?"
"Uh..." I glanced around the room but soon remembered none of my friends were in this class; they wouldn't be caught dead taking AP. No one looked amused. I silently cursed my father for making me sign up for this class. "I don't know."
Ms. Johnson shook her head. "See me after class, Mr. Jefferson."
After class, I hung back and leaned against Ms. Johnson's desk. "You wanted to see me?"
"Miles...you know the AP test is coming up in three weeks, right?" she asked, perching on top of a student desk, facing me.
"Yeah..."
"This was a review question. You should've known the answer. I have to say I'm a little concerned. You need a 4 on this test to receive college credit."
"I know...I'm sorry, Ms. Johnson, I'll study harder."
She sighed. "Okay, Miles. But if I don't see any improvement, I'll need to contact your father."
I felt the color drain from my face. "No, please... that—that won't be necessary."
She cocked her head to one side. "I hope not." She stood up, signaling that our meeting was over. "Get to your next class, Miles."
I sighed and picked my backpack up off the floor. "See ya, Ms. Johnson," I muttered, hurrying out the door.
Rachel
At lunch, I walked up to Brooke, slammed my books down onto the table, and yanked her earbuds out of her ears.
"What the hell?" she asked, grabbing them out of my hand. "What's wrong with you, Rachel?"
I sat down hard across from her. "I'll tell you what's wrong. Why in the fresh hell would you think you have the right to give Miles fucking Jefferson my phone number!?"
She looked at me for a second, and then she laughed. She actually laughed.
"What's funny?" I demanded, crossing my arms.
"That you're mad about this. Yes...I gave your number to the most popular guy in school. He wanted to ask you out. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for that chance?" Brooke said, shoving her phone and earbuds into her purse.
My mouth dropped. "Brooke, I told you yesterday how I felt about him—why would you ever dream that I'd want to go out with him?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please. I know you think he's hot."
Brooke's shallow attitude at the moment was too much, even for her. "Have you seen the way he treats Luke?"
"Who cares? Luke is weird. He brings all this shit on himself," she said flippantly.
"My God, Brooke. Are you heartless?"
She looked me dead in the eyes and stood up. "I guess I am, Rachel. We can't all have a bleeding heart like you." She grabbed her purse and started toward the door.
"Brooke!"
She kept walking.
Luke
Rachel's friend Brooke, or whatever her name is, just got up and stormed out of the cafeteria. I don't know why, but I got the feeling whatever had just gone down between them had something to do with me.
Probably because Brooke glared at me when she left the room, and I've never even spoken a word to her in my life.
Why in the hell would Rachel and Brooke be talking about me?
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