before grabbing the book out of my hands and flinging it into the trash.
I cried out, but before I could move Grayson was reaching for me once more and that's when I felt the cold sticky soda make its way down my back. I stared at him in horror as his friends descended on us, my eyes fastened to his. I could hear laughter all around us, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. One of his friends slapped him on the back, shouting "Say it, say it!" I didn't know what they were talking about, and then I did.
"Your clothes are stupid," Grayson began, his words almost drowned out by the laughter, "It looks like something you found in the trash, and now it smells like it too."
I thought something flashed in his eyes then, but I didn't stay to find out what it was. Standing up, I hurried out of the room, stopping just long enough to grab my sketches out of the trash. I didn't cry.
Not then.
Later.
Dakota ranted for twenty minutes about how she wanted to go kick some boys where it hurts, and how she'd gladly ran them over with her car when she could finally drive. Or she could get someone to do it. She helped clean me up and held me as I trembled from shock.
After I wiped my stained sketchbook as much as I could and vowed to never wear another piece of my own clothing in public, or ever speak to Grayson again, then, I finally cried.
THIRTEEN
I'm not anti-social. I'm selectively social. There is a difference. - Author Unknown
It's been a month since the school started.
It really amazes me how fast time passes us by. Aunt Evie has been extra needy lately, having me come in earlier and stay later. Not that I'm complaining, per se. Money is good for the college fund. However, I've been so busy with school and work, I haven't had a chance to sign up for volunteer positions and today it’s finally caught up with me. I'm walking out of my History class, looking through my bag, when I hear my name called.
"Ms. Summers, could you come here please?" Mr. Blooms asks as I'm passing his desk. "I've heard you haven't picked a volunteer position yet. Any reason for that?" he asks coming around the table, and settling on the corner of it. He's dressed in a flannel shirt, with an orange sweater over it, sleeves rolls up to the elbows, and jeans. He's definitely the only teacher in this school who can pull that off. I like the way he always uses patterns and solids together. He also layers a lot, which I can appreciate. I meet his eyes and realize he's waiting for me to reply.
"Umm, I've been a bit busy with work and classes, just haven't had a chance to go by the counselor's office," I give him a sheepish smile, shrugging my shoulders a little.
"I guessed something like that." He returns my smile reaching behind him. "Which is why I got you this." I take the paper from his outstretched hands and read the heading.
"They're looking for volunteers again?" I ask glancing up at Mr. Blooms.
"They're always looking for volunteers, and I remember how much you enjoying helping out last year, so I thought since we need a few more bodies, I'll give you a chance to sign up." And this is exactly why Mr. Blooms is my favorite teacher. He doesn't only dress like a model, he gets his students excited about important things in life, like volunteering at an animal shelter.
Chance and I helped out at this one last year and we had a blast. Our two favorite places to volunteer have always been animal shelter or the library. I know Chance loved working with animals and wanted to do it again this year, but I hadn't had opportunity to look up positions. I open my mouth to ask, but Mr. Blooms beats me to it.
"Yes, Chance has already signed up. I know how you two love working together so I’ve talked to him as well."
"Thanks Mr. B," I reply reaching for a pen. I sign the paperwork and give it back. I turn, seeing the room has cleared and calling over my shoulder. "Bye." Leaving the classroom, I see Chance has waited for me.
"So?" he asks.
"Yes, I
I cried out, but before I could move Grayson was reaching for me once more and that's when I felt the cold sticky soda make its way down my back. I stared at him in horror as his friends descended on us, my eyes fastened to his. I could hear laughter all around us, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. One of his friends slapped him on the back, shouting "Say it, say it!" I didn't know what they were talking about, and then I did.
"Your clothes are stupid," Grayson began, his words almost drowned out by the laughter, "It looks like something you found in the trash, and now it smells like it too."
I thought something flashed in his eyes then, but I didn't stay to find out what it was. Standing up, I hurried out of the room, stopping just long enough to grab my sketches out of the trash. I didn't cry.
Not then.
Later.
Dakota ranted for twenty minutes about how she wanted to go kick some boys where it hurts, and how she'd gladly ran them over with her car when she could finally drive. Or she could get someone to do it. She helped clean me up and held me as I trembled from shock.
After I wiped my stained sketchbook as much as I could and vowed to never wear another piece of my own clothing in public, or ever speak to Grayson again, then, I finally cried.
THIRTEEN
I'm not anti-social. I'm selectively social. There is a difference. - Author Unknown
It's been a month since the school started.
It really amazes me how fast time passes us by. Aunt Evie has been extra needy lately, having me come in earlier and stay later. Not that I'm complaining, per se. Money is good for the college fund. However, I've been so busy with school and work, I haven't had a chance to sign up for volunteer positions and today it’s finally caught up with me. I'm walking out of my History class, looking through my bag, when I hear my name called.
"Ms. Summers, could you come here please?" Mr. Blooms asks as I'm passing his desk. "I've heard you haven't picked a volunteer position yet. Any reason for that?" he asks coming around the table, and settling on the corner of it. He's dressed in a flannel shirt, with an orange sweater over it, sleeves rolls up to the elbows, and jeans. He's definitely the only teacher in this school who can pull that off. I like the way he always uses patterns and solids together. He also layers a lot, which I can appreciate. I meet his eyes and realize he's waiting for me to reply.
"Umm, I've been a bit busy with work and classes, just haven't had a chance to go by the counselor's office," I give him a sheepish smile, shrugging my shoulders a little.
"I guessed something like that." He returns my smile reaching behind him. "Which is why I got you this." I take the paper from his outstretched hands and read the heading.
"They're looking for volunteers again?" I ask glancing up at Mr. Blooms.
"They're always looking for volunteers, and I remember how much you enjoying helping out last year, so I thought since we need a few more bodies, I'll give you a chance to sign up." And this is exactly why Mr. Blooms is my favorite teacher. He doesn't only dress like a model, he gets his students excited about important things in life, like volunteering at an animal shelter.
Chance and I helped out at this one last year and we had a blast. Our two favorite places to volunteer have always been animal shelter or the library. I know Chance loved working with animals and wanted to do it again this year, but I hadn't had opportunity to look up positions. I open my mouth to ask, but Mr. Blooms beats me to it.
"Yes, Chance has already signed up. I know how you two love working together so I’ve talked to him as well."
"Thanks Mr. B," I reply reaching for a pen. I sign the paperwork and give it back. I turn, seeing the room has cleared and calling over my shoulder. "Bye." Leaving the classroom, I see Chance has waited for me.
"So?" he asks.
"Yes, I
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