Page 9 of Wicked Savage Cruel
Yes, I sat at lunch with the cute guys who I’ve now learned are also the school’s jocks.
And no. I didn’t want to cause any waves in the stupid high school social hierarchy.
I didn’t miss the fact that the guys don’t sit with the rest of the football players, who are easy enough to spot based on their rowdy behavior and letterman jackets. But if you’re the QB like Dom, you’re practically high school royalty. So, if the guys always stuck to themselves, me being there isn’t going to go over well with the rest of the school.
Which was made abundantly clear once I got a new copy of my schedule from the front office and stepped inside my next class.
The teacher doesn’t make me stand and do the whole introductions thing, for which I’m grateful. I hate being the new girl and I hate being put on the spot even more. I already feel out of place and the extra attention and scrutiny makes my skin itch. The girl who sits behind me makes it a point to kick the back of my chair at least four times during class, and then when class ends, she calls me a slut and knocks my notebook off my desk as she walks past.
Wonderful.
Roman sees all of it and his only reaction is to smirk. This guy is some piece of work. One minute he’s kind of nice and helps me and then the next he’s openly hostile and encouraging this kind of behavior toward me. I start to wonder if maybe he called me “his girl” last period just to make things difficult for me. Like he somehow knew the reaction that would garner.
When she walks past him, he makes a show of throwing his arm around her and walking out of the class beside her.
So dumb.
I ignore it all, though, and head to my last class of the day. Welding.
After a quick trip to the restroom, I make it to class just after the bell rings. I’m greeted by a sea of confused expressions as I stand in the open doorway. There are maybe twenty kids in the class and all of them are boys. Not surprising. The class has already started and I don’t want to interrupt, but when the teacher notices everyone's confused faces staring at something behind him, he turns and spots me.
“Are you lost?” he asks me with a frown.
I shake my head. “No. I have Welding fourth period,” I tell him, stepping closer to hand him my schedule. “I’m a late transfer,” I add sheepishly.
His frown deepens, his nearly white brows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars.
“Were you dropped in here because of space issues?” he asks, seemingly still confused.
“No. I chose Welding as my elective.”
That throws him off.
“Are you one of the boy-crazy ones?” There’s annoyance in his tone.
I snort. At my old school, a lot of the girls would take weightlifting as their P.E. elective because all the jocks took it. It was a good way to bump elbows with the cool crowd, but I wasn’t one of those girls. I actually liked this class.
“No, sir. I enjoy welding.”
He raises a single brow. “You’ve welded before?”
I nod. “My old school offered it so this’ll be my third year. I’m decent at MIG and Stick. My TIG welding is,” I lift my hand and twist it side to side. “It’s just okay.”
His eyes widen but he nods his head and returns my schedule. “Alright then. Grab a seat. We’re doing a bit of a refresher today, anyway.”
I head to the only available chair. When I sit down, a boy leans over his desk toward me. “Hey, you’re new here, right?”
I nod, bracing myself for whatever he says next.
“I’m Aaron. What’s your name?”
“Allie,” I say, surprised by the introduction.
“Cool. Nice to meet you, Allie.” He flashes me a brilliant smile. He’s cute.Really cute.He has shaggy blond hair that hangs down in his face and bright green eyes. Dressed in black Volcom pants and an O’Neill shirt he gives off a skater vibe, but it’s cool and it definitely fits him. My assumption is confirmed when I spot the skateboard resting on the floor beside his desk.
I match his smile before turning my attention to our instructor.
Most of what he goes over I already know. He gives us a refresher on safety protocols. I guess they had an injury the day before.
