Ｓｔｕｔｔｅｒ [ｂｉｌｌ ｄｅｎｂｒｏｕｇｈ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ]

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏ

♧♧♧

I raced out of my math class, eager to catch up with my brother and friends. The last class of the day was the only one that none of the others were in, and was on the whole opposite side of the building. Normally, at the end of the day, I'd find them clustered together at the corner near the science wing.

I gasped as I stumbled into the ugly red lockers. None other than Greta Keene ran into me. She scoffed.

"Watch where you're going, fat ass."

"What did I do this time?" I questioned. I could smell her bubble gum and cheap perfume. She rolled her eyes.

"You were in my way," she snarled.

"You were all the way across the hallway," I corrected, "And if you don't mind, I have some friends to catch up with."

"Oh, you mean your gang of stupid little boys?" She huffed, squeezing her plastic water bottle. My shirt soaked through. I frowned. Great.

I finally spotted my friends, pushing through the group of people. I called Eddie's name.

"Y/n? What happened to you?" He asked, gesturing at my wet shirt. I looked down. I'm sure I looked ridiculous.

"Greta," I sneered. Bill slung his backpack down one shoulder and unzipped the largest pocket, digging around between folders and such.

"H-here," he said, pulling out a balled up t-shirt, "I have a sp-sp-spare."

Bill drops the shirt into my hand. I smile, dipping into the nearest restroom. As always, it smells of cigarette smoke and drugstore perfume. I head into the stall closest to the door. I was always curious to read the new writing on the walls. But, as I pulled my wet shirt above my head, a specific message caught my eye. It had my name.

ʏ/ɴ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʙᴜɴᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴜᴛꜱ!

I frown, stuffing my shirt into my backpack. I don't smoke. And I'm not a whore. Why would anyone think that? I pulled Bill's shirt over my head and exited the bathroom.

As I make my way through the crowded halls, I spot Henry and his misfit friends. I can feel them eyeing me on the way out. Long ago, I'd learned it was him that pushed me out of that swing so long ago.

I tug on my backpack straps, hurrying past them and avoiding Henry's gaze. The only thing I want to do is catch up with my friends and not get into anymore trouble. I'd tell Eddie about the bathroom stall graffiti later.

Upon entering the courtyard, I scan the crowd of people for my group. They're standing over by a trashcan, dumping the contents of their backpacks out.

"Hey, guys," I sigh, swinging my bag over my shoulder, getting ready to dump out all the broken pencils and torn paper. I let all but my paperback of The Hardy Boys fall out.

"Come on, Y/n, it's summer! Toss it!" Richie says, reaching out to grab the book from my hand. I shake my head, dropping it back into my bag.

"Richie, I like reading," I say, zipping my bag back up. He sticks his tongue out.

"This is the best feeling in the world," Stan says, adjusting the hem of his shirt. Richie plasters a huge grin on his face. Here we go.

"Oh, really? Try tickling your pickle for the first time!"

"That's disgusting, Richie!" I say, swatting him on the shoulder. He jumps back.

"But you still can't resist this," he laughed, puffing out his chest.