Page 144 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“I am.”
“We don’t have to do this. We can skip the rest of—“
“No!” I force myself to stand, my legs unsteady. “I’m done being the flake who ditches. I’m done being the girl who can’t handle school. I want to be a good student again.”
“Alice…”
“I’m going back in.” I straighten my blazer and wipe my face again. “How could you not turn in your essay?”
Ryder stumbles as he stands beside me. “What?”
I shake my head, fury curling my fingers. “Even if you didn’t make the changes I suggested, the draft I read was good enough. Why didn’t you upload it?”
Ryder shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I dunno. More important stuff came up.”
“Miranda is going to lose it.” I pound my chest. “At me.”
He reaches for my shoulder. “I can handle Miranda.”
I bump his hand away. “School is important, too.”
Ryder tilts his head, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “Some heavy stuff came up this weekend.”
I fold my arms. “You said you would hand it in.”
He lifts his hands in defeat. “Well, I didn’t, Alice. I’m a moron. Are you happy?”
“No, I’m not happy.” I frown, pulling the straps of my backpack up, and turn toward the classroom door. “Are you coming?”
Ryder groans behind me, shuffling his feet as if he’s making the hardest decision of his life.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “I’m coming.”
We walk back into the classroom together, and Ms. Patterson looks up from her desk, surprise and concern crossing her face. “Alice, I...”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I just needed some air.”
I slide into my seat, acutely aware of every eye on me, and Ryder takes his seat behind me.
Ms. Patterson clears her throat. “As I was saying, we’re going to discuss the use of imaginative language today. If everyone could turn to page 157...”
The lesson continues, and the whispers don’t stop. They’re quieter now, more careful, but I can still hear them.
“Did you see her run out?”
“Total breakdown.”
“I bet something did happen.”
Chloe leans over, her voice low. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? That looked pretty intense.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, not looking at her.
“Okay, but like, if you need to talk or whatever...” she trails off, and I can tell she’s fishing for information more than offering support.
I focus on Ms. Patterson’s lecture, taking notes to appear like a normal and functional human being.
“I heard they were together all weekend.”
