TWENTY EIGHT

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It's been approximately five days, eleven hours, and fifty-one minutes since Saturday night happened

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It's been approximately five days, eleven hours, and fifty-one minutes since Saturday night happened. Faye still thinks she's untouchable as she parades around the halls with her head in the clouds, latching onto Vincent whenever I'm around and purposely walking him to Chemistry.

I still haven't dropped the blackmail on her yet because I need a clear mind to do that. And currently, it's anything but clear. Summer is still avoiding me and refuses to answer any form of communication so I'm planning an ambush this afternoon to hopefully right this wrong.

Every time I see Trick I feel my palm itch with the need to slap him again - just with something a bit more solid, like a car. But his cheek has been a pretty purple color with a slight imprint of my hand. I knew I had made an impression because my hand was throbbing for the rest of the night.

Even though I deleted the videos - I don't believe they were the only copies. He probably has it somewhere else, in case I do end up making up with his best friend. Although that doesn't seem likely.

Then there's Sam.

English was like living in Antarctica - I swear I saw a penguin from how cold and detached he was. There was no warmth, happiness, or charming aura around him but an unsaid threat to stay away. It's why Nina sat beside me while he sulked at the back in their original seat.

"I don't understand what's wrong with him," she continues to watch Sam from a distance, alternating between glimpses at their friend group and her music sheets. "He snapped at me for asking if he wanted to join us today."

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the group chatting a little less exuberant from the normal happy chaos at their table. It's like everyone can tell the scales have tipped and the light has dimmed at their center. I knew Sam was important and the rock of his group - I just didn't realize this would be the result.

Flickering my eyes to Trick who catches me looking I purse my lips with annoyance. He quickly covers up his displeasure of being ignored by his friend and props his arm on the table, flipping me off. To my surprise, his finger is yanked and pulled down by Sam.

"Don't."

I look back to Nina who witnessed the exchange and is still watching intently, "That's because we aren't friends anymore."

"What?" Nina's eyes dart to mine and reflect disappointment over us not getting along anymore. "Why? I thought you two were talking still."

"I can't get past him telling Faye," I partially lie, poking around with my pasta with another layer of guilt for not telling her the truth. Why does lying seem so tiring all of the sudden? I look up, seeing her watching intently. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why are you lying to me?" Nina asks softly and I furrow my eyebrows. "I saw the guilt on your face . . . you're normally good at suppressing how you really feel . . . so why are you lying about why you aren't talking to Sam?"

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