Page 56 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I try not to think about the fact that, in less than a week at Ashworth Academy, I’ve become exactly what everyone says I am.
A walking disaster.
A problem no one wants to deal with.
A girl who breaks things.
Everything I’ve written down on the page turns to squiggles and jumps across the ruled lines. I blink at the spots clouding my vision, and my hand shoots into the air.
“Yes?” our teacher responds.
“Can I have a hall pass?” I murmur squeamishly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Thankfully, he approves my request, and I’m quick to pack up my belongings. The teacher gives me a questioning stare as I leave my desk with my backpack, but I’m out the door too quick for him to take back the pass.
I need a break. I can’t be in another classroom. I know I can read a textbook and get myself caught up. I just want solace. I just want a quiet moment in this hellishly over-crowded school.
Eleven
TonightMirandasitsatthe head of the table, eating her linguini with precise, controlled movements. Fork to plate. Small twirl. Chew exactly fifteen times. Glance at the leather-bound planner beside her plate. Dab her napkin at the corner of her mouth. Repeat.
The silence stretches between us like a living thing. I try to fill it by making a hole in my plate of linguine. Maybe it’ll look like I’ve eaten more than I have.
Any moment now, she’ll say something about the camera. About the incident in the hallway. I’m sure a video exists somewhere because there were at least twenty phones pointed at me.
Or maybe the school called. Maybe they reported I skipped most of my afternoon classes, cycling through bathrooms and empty alcoves. Getting that first hall pass was too easy, and I kept doing it every period. Most teachers asked me if I was sick before I spoke. I guess there’s no harm in taking advantage of my gaunt appearance.
I take another bite I don’t taste.
Miranda’s phone buzzes against the table.
I flinch.
She glances at the screen, and something flickers across her face. Irritation, maybe?
“Excuse me a moment,” she says, though she’s not asking my permission. She answers the phone with, “Miranda Knox.”
Standing from her seat, she walks toward the tall windows overlooking the valley, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
I’m left sitting with my fork suspended halfway to my mouth.
Her voice drifts back to me, and there’s a tone shift. Measured patience giving way to thinly veiled annoyance.
“No, that’s not what we discussed... I specifically said natural lighting, not...”
When it’s clear the conversation isn’t about me, I set down my fork and reach for my phone in my lap.
My hands shake slightly as I unlock the screen and open the browser. I type the brand and model of the camera I broke at school. As a photography nerd, I recognized it immediately.
The results load.
Body Only: $2,399.00
I scroll down.
Lens Kit: $4,098.00
My stomach drops as if I’m falling through the floor.
