Page 30 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
The swirling comments come to a halt.
I stop breathing. Seriously, how do I breathe?
“Mr. Hamilton.” Ms. Patterson turns from the board, her eyes flashing. “You might be something of a celebrity these days, but that doesn’t give you the right to make inappropriate outbursts in my classroom.”
There’s notable silence behind me until the squeak of Ryder straightening his chair.
“Yes, Miss Winter is a new student here,” Ms. Patterson goes on. “She’s a gifted student, and before even stepping foot in this classroom, she received notes from me for this class. Precisely to tutor our dear Mr. Hamilton. She’s meant to be here, and if she wants everyone to know her life story, I’m sure she’ll tell it in her own words.”
Suddenly, the knowledge of how to breathe reenters my brain. With a sigh of relief, I collapse in my seat, and show a small, thankful smile to my new teacher.
But as the class continues, it’s evident the damage has been done. Whispered comments about ‘teacher’s pet,’ ‘crushing on Ryder,’ and ‘stalker vibes’ are already in circulation.
And it’s only the first class of the day.
Seven
Aftersittingonedgefor the entire class, the bell finally rings. Ryder is up in a flash, bustling out of the classroom like he’s being chased by the cops.
“Alice,” Ms. Patterson calls as the other students file out. “Could you stay for a moment?”
I approach her desk as the last of the other students leave.
“I wanted to welcome you properly to Ashworth Academy,” she says, organizing papers on her desk. “I know transferring schools mid-year can be challenging, especially under difficult circumstances.”
She knows. Of course, she knows. All the teachers probably got a whole briefing about the tragic orphan girl who’s come to live with her eccentric aunt.
“Thank you,” I say, not sure what else to add.
“I also wanted to let you know that if you need any academic support, or just someone to talk to, my door is always open. Sometimes it helps to have an adult who’s not family to bounce things off.”
For a moment, I’m tempted to take her up on the offer. She did come to my rescue when Brooks and Ryder started airing dirty laundry.
But I just nod and say thank you again.
“And you were okay with the materials that were sent to you for tutoring?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s fine. I’ve already read the book.”
Ms. Patterson brightens. “Marvellous. If you’ve read ‘What We Carry’ for fun, you and I are going to get along great.”
Something tickles against my heart. Like enthusiastic recognition wants to light up, but I’m just not ready to feel good about anything yet.
Ms. Patterson dismisses me for my next class, and I wander into the hall with no idea where I’m headed. I unfold my crumpled class schedule and feel less intensity about finding my next class.
I’m fifteen minutes late to biology, and in a blur, I’m finding my way to history. I’m a bit of a curiosity as the new girl, but as the day progresses, rumors from English class morph into wilder stories.
At lunch, I face my biggest challenge yet. The cafeteria.
It’s not like the cafeterias in movies, with obvious cliques and clear social hierarchies. It’s worse. Everyone here is rich and privileged, with subtle distinctions I can’t read. Designer handbags peek out from under tables, and expensive watches catch the light. Casual conversations drift past about skiing in Switzerland and summers on private islands.
Making a safe choice, I get a salad, a bottle of water, and a small packet of chips. I look around for somewhere to sit, and that’s when I spot Ryder.
He’s at a table in the center of the cafeteria, surrounded by people you’d expect a famous musician to hang out with. Model-esque girls with silky hair, who effortlessly make our uniformlook chic. Guys who make the standard-issue blazers look like they were custom-made on Savile Row. They’re all throwing their heads back in carefree laughter. The kind of worriless life where the biggest hardship is deciding which party to attend on the weekend.
Ryder looks in his element. Money, privilege, and beautiful people.
I find an empty table in the corner and take a seat. My salad looks fresh and full of colorful vegetables that would have had my parents’ approval.
