Read Online The New Girl by Tracie Puckett - Free Book Online

my
incredibly long to-do list. “Yeah, I do. But you know what? Don't
worry about it. I'll get up early tomorrow morning. No biggie.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Positive.”
     
    Thursday, October 13
    The alarm sounded at four AM. I opened my
eyes and stared at the clock, hating myself for procrastinating.
But Bridge had needed me the night before, and I was glad that
she’d let me distract her—even if it only lasted two hours before
she had to go home.
    I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom,
taking a quick shower to help wake myself up. Back in my room, I
settled in front of the computer and got to work. My thoughts were
running wild, inconsistent, and barely logical. After pounding out
the five-page requirement, I looked at the clock and realized I was
already five minutes late for Mr. Rivera's 7:20 class. I printed
the essay, threw it in my bag, slipped into a pair of shoes, and
bolted to school as quickly as possible. By the time I reached the
classroom, Mr. Rivera was already fifteen minutes into his lecture.
Not wanting to interrupt, I slid down the opposite wall and waited
in the hallway until 8:05. The bell rang and the door swung open.
The students filed out and went their separate ways down each
corridor. Nate walked out with Rachel and ignored my “hello.”
Bridget soon followed, not noticing me.
    “Bridge.” I grabbed her wrist. “Can you hang
back for a second?”
    “No. I have a French test to fail....”
Obviously her mood hadn’t improved much since the night before. I
gave her hand a quick squeeze.
    “You’ll do fine. I'll catch up with you at
lunch.”
    “Sure,” she said, drifting away.
    I stepped into Mr. Rivera's room and lightly
tapped the open door. He looked up from his desk and raised his
brow.
    “Miss Ghijk,” he said. “Did somebody toilet
paper your house last night?”
    “No sir,” I said, ignoring his playful smirk.
“I'm sorry I didn't make it to class on time—”
    “Happens to the best of us,” he said, leaning
back in his chair. “What’s going on?”
    “I was wondering if I could still turn in the
assignment…. I know it’s late, and I’m really sorry—”
    “Not a problem,” he said. “But there’ll be a
ten point deduction from your grade.” I handed him the paper and
turned to walk out. “Steph,” he said, standing up. “I'm sorry,
kiddo. As much as I want to help you out, I can't show
favoritism.”
    “Mr. Rivera,” I said, looking back. “I don't
expect preferential treatment. I waited until this morning to do
it, so… I get what I get.”
    “Is that why you were late? You were working
on the paper?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is everything okay...at home? With
Caroline?”
    “Yes.” I pursed my lips. I didn’t mean to be
short, but my nerves were on end. And truthfully, I was still a
little aggravated about the phone call I’d overheard the night
before.
    “Then, I’ll ask again,” he said. “What’s
going on?”
    “Listen, I've been up since four o'clock. I'm
tired, cranky, and quite frankly, not in the mood to have this
conversation. Now, if you don't mind, I've gotta go to class. I
can't afford two write-ups in one day.”
    I turned on my heel and headed for the
door.
    “One last thing, Miss Ghijk,” Mr. Rivera said
as I crossed the threshold.
    “What?” I asked, whipping back to look at him
again.
    He scribbled something on a piece of paper
and passed it to me—a note, allowing my tardiness to second
period.
    “This will buy you some time,” he said,
grinning. “Run home and put on matching shoes, kiddo. High school
is a terrible place to make the wrong fashion choices.”
    I looked down at my feet and closed my
eyes.
    Crap.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Wednesday, October 19
    The dining room was dimly lit as Mom, Calvin,
Bridget, and I sat around the table eating Calvin's famous apple
pie. I didn’t need any reminder about the first time I’d tried his
dessert, but I couldn’t turn down the offer when he asked.