Page 28 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“I’m... I’m Alice Winter. The new student.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Welcome, Alice.” Ms. Patterson’s smile is encouraging. “Come in and take a seat.”
I step into the classroom, scanning for an empty desk.
That’s when I see him.
Ryder, slouched in a seat near the back. His dark eyes widen when he sees me, and his entire expression shifts from relaxed to furious in an instant.
Crap.
I was afraid this would happen. I take a few senior classes, one of them being English. But seeing as Ryder is behind in English, I was hoping he’d be in some kind of remedial class.
But no.
No, no, no.
We’re in the same class.
“There’s an empty seat near the window,” Ms. Patterson says, gesturing to a desk directly in front of Ryder.
I force my legs to move, walking down the aisle as every eye in the classroom tracks my movement. Ryder’s glare continues to burn into me.
As I swing myself toward the vacant seat, my backpack swipes across the neighboring desk and sweeps the other student’s belongings onto the ground. At the precise moment my pigment turns tomato red, cheers and laughter erupt from around the classroom.
“What the hell!” the girl beside me squeaks. She huffs and groans as she bends over to retrieve her notebook, pen case, and phone from the floor. “This is the latest model. I just got it, and you totally tried to demolish it.”
“I-I…” I stammer as her eyes narrow at me with disgust. “I’m sorry.”
“Chloe,” Ms. Patterson chimes in. “Exactly why do you have your phone out during class?”
The rage on Chloe’s face dissolves, and she pockets the phone. “Umm, technically, class hadn’t started.”
Ms. Patterson holds out her hand. “As soon as you step foot inside my classroom, class begins.”
Chloe rolls her eyes and hands her phone over to our teacher.
“Is it wrecked, ma’am?” another girl asks.
“Did you hear that smack when it hit the floor?” another student says. “Wanna take bets on how many cracks it has?”
I slide into the seat and pull out my notebook, hoping to become invisible.Seriously, Alice, is there a way for you to make an entrance that doesn’t involve wrecking other people’s property?
“There will be no betting in my classroom,” Ms. Patterson says, turning back to the board. “Now, as I was saying, your essays on ‘What We Carry’ are due Friday. I expect thoughtful analysis of the protagonist’s relationship with inherited obligation...”
“Alice.”
The harsh whisper comes from behind me. Close enough that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
I freeze, pen hovering over my blank page.
“What are you doing here?” Ryder’s voice is low and sharp, meant only for me. “Why are you in my English class?”
I don’t turn around. He said not to talk to him. He’s breaking his own rule. Is this a test? I can’t respond. No good would come from responding.
“Alice.” More insistent now. “You’re in the wrong room. This is a senior class, and you’re a junior.”
My face burns. Other students notice and turn in their seats.
