arm through mine and tugging me through the door.
I didn’t have a chance to reply.
“You have to sit with me and my gang. I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, leading me down the hall, making that hall her bitch. I swear every head turned as she sashayed down that runway. Guys winked, whistled, and stared. Lots of staring. The girls pretended to ignore her, but shot glares or stink eyes from the side.
“Thanks?” I said, uncertain if I should be thankful.
“First impressions are everything and second impressions are nothing,” she said as we burst into the cafeteria. Same reaction in here as it had been in the hall. Whatever Taylor had here, it was powerful stuff. “Now we’ve got a bit of damage control to mitigate, but I think we’ll be all right if we play it right.”
My head was spinning. “And by damage control, you mean because the guys are already spreading rumors about who’s going to bang me first, or soonest, or hardest, or whatever the hell?” How disillusioned had I been to believe school was first and foremost a place to learn? I was having my former assumptions handed to me on a plate.
“The guys? Of course not,” Taylor said, waving back at a table in the far corner. “That’s the highest form of compliment in their books. It’s the girls, more specifically the girlfriends of the guys taking bets on the new girl. Plus, your wardrobe isn’t exactly disputing the slut image.”
My nose wrinkled. This girl spoke a language I wasn’t familiar with and she was taking a jab at my wardrobe. My skirt was a teensy bit short, yes, but I had on a cardigan and flats to tame it down, for god’s sake.
“They’re striking an offensive, a potent one.”
“And that would be?” I asked, wondering if at least some of the glares and stink eyes were aimed at me. In fact, that dark haired girl who didn’t know the meaning of less is more when it comes to mascara was definitely aiming that stink eye my way as she draped her arm over the guy beside her.
“They’ve labeled you a slut,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I’ve already seen it scrolled across two bathroom mirrors in last season’s lipstick and heard it whispered at least fifty times in the hallways.”
Was it possible to hate high school more? Yes, the answer is always yes.
“Fan-flipping-tastic,” I replied, holding my shoulders high. “And what did I do or not do to deserve the dumbasses of Southpointe High taking bets on bagging me and the girls that date them labeling me a slut?”
Of course I knew the world wasn’t fair, not everything made sense or followed a logical, harmonious path, but I at least wanted a reason why the world sucked if there was one.
“That,” Taylor stopped me, spinning me around so we were staring at the lunch line. My breath hitched in my lungs, and a bad case of vertigo followed. “Is the reason why.”
His tray slid to a stop as his shoulders tensed. A gray beanied back of the head turned and he looked at me like he knew exactly where I was. Jude’s eyes went from charcoal to molten silver in the space of a breath. A smile that was small, but honest broke and I felt my world beginning to spiral out of control again.
“I take it from that stupid grin on your face the rumors are true,” Taylor said, trying to steer me along, but I wasn’t moving. More truthfully, I couldn’t move when Jude looked at me the way he was now. “But here’s rule number one here at Southpointe High—if you want to keep even a moderately clean reputation, you don’t look at, talk to, or Lord forbid, date guys like Jude Ryder.”
Leaving his tray teetering in front of a tray of green gelatin substance, he headed my way, carving a line through the packed cafeteria. Anyone that saw him coming moved, and those that didn’t were tugged away by nearby friends or shouldered out of the way by Jude.
“He’s coming over here?” Taylor said, sounding like it was upending her social theories and
I didn’t have a chance to reply.
“You have to sit with me and my gang. I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, leading me down the hall, making that hall her bitch. I swear every head turned as she sashayed down that runway. Guys winked, whistled, and stared. Lots of staring. The girls pretended to ignore her, but shot glares or stink eyes from the side.
“Thanks?” I said, uncertain if I should be thankful.
“First impressions are everything and second impressions are nothing,” she said as we burst into the cafeteria. Same reaction in here as it had been in the hall. Whatever Taylor had here, it was powerful stuff. “Now we’ve got a bit of damage control to mitigate, but I think we’ll be all right if we play it right.”
My head was spinning. “And by damage control, you mean because the guys are already spreading rumors about who’s going to bang me first, or soonest, or hardest, or whatever the hell?” How disillusioned had I been to believe school was first and foremost a place to learn? I was having my former assumptions handed to me on a plate.
“The guys? Of course not,” Taylor said, waving back at a table in the far corner. “That’s the highest form of compliment in their books. It’s the girls, more specifically the girlfriends of the guys taking bets on the new girl. Plus, your wardrobe isn’t exactly disputing the slut image.”
My nose wrinkled. This girl spoke a language I wasn’t familiar with and she was taking a jab at my wardrobe. My skirt was a teensy bit short, yes, but I had on a cardigan and flats to tame it down, for god’s sake.
“They’re striking an offensive, a potent one.”
“And that would be?” I asked, wondering if at least some of the glares and stink eyes were aimed at me. In fact, that dark haired girl who didn’t know the meaning of less is more when it comes to mascara was definitely aiming that stink eye my way as she draped her arm over the guy beside her.
“They’ve labeled you a slut,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I’ve already seen it scrolled across two bathroom mirrors in last season’s lipstick and heard it whispered at least fifty times in the hallways.”
Was it possible to hate high school more? Yes, the answer is always yes.
“Fan-flipping-tastic,” I replied, holding my shoulders high. “And what did I do or not do to deserve the dumbasses of Southpointe High taking bets on bagging me and the girls that date them labeling me a slut?”
Of course I knew the world wasn’t fair, not everything made sense or followed a logical, harmonious path, but I at least wanted a reason why the world sucked if there was one.
“That,” Taylor stopped me, spinning me around so we were staring at the lunch line. My breath hitched in my lungs, and a bad case of vertigo followed. “Is the reason why.”
His tray slid to a stop as his shoulders tensed. A gray beanied back of the head turned and he looked at me like he knew exactly where I was. Jude’s eyes went from charcoal to molten silver in the space of a breath. A smile that was small, but honest broke and I felt my world beginning to spiral out of control again.
“I take it from that stupid grin on your face the rumors are true,” Taylor said, trying to steer me along, but I wasn’t moving. More truthfully, I couldn’t move when Jude looked at me the way he was now. “But here’s rule number one here at Southpointe High—if you want to keep even a moderately clean reputation, you don’t look at, talk to, or Lord forbid, date guys like Jude Ryder.”
Leaving his tray teetering in front of a tray of green gelatin substance, he headed my way, carving a line through the packed cafeteria. Anyone that saw him coming moved, and those that didn’t were tugged away by nearby friends or shouldered out of the way by Jude.
“He’s coming over here?” Taylor said, sounding like it was upending her social theories and
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