The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

      “Well that’s not going to happen,” I snorted, turning Trevor down as Eric reentered the room.

      “Why not?” Trevor demanded.

      “Because… that’s not me,” I said.

      “Oh, and what is you, Liz?” he questioned. He smirked at me, and I assumed it was payback for restricting him from talking to me like normal for the entire evening.

      “Eric,” I said, turning my attention to someone whom I wasn’t displeased with, “in our biology class, who’s the girl with red hair?” I didn’t quite know what I was doing, but I did know that I wanted to avert the attention off of Trevor.

      “Does she normally sit at a table with a brunette?” he questioned.

      “Yes,” I nodded.

      “Gracie Scott,” he said, looking away from me distantly.

      “Why doesn’t she like me?” I inquired.

      Over the short couple of weeks I had spent at Madison High, I had noticed a few things about girls and people in general. The majority of girls that I interacted with judged too much and too quickly. I didn’t understand it. What gives one the right to judge another based on appearance and rumors? It’s stupid and immature.

      This girl in particular, “Gracie”, had been glaring at me every class, and whispered every time I walked past. I didn’t understand it. What gave her the right to judge me? She didn’t know me, my story, or who I was... but for that matter, no truly did. There was something about her that gave me the sense that she thought she was better than everyone else. I kept myself from sticking up for myself, not wanting to draw attention, or get myself worked up over a stupid girl who dislikes me for no apparent reason. Boys are so much easier to understand...

      “Because you’re pretty,” he sighed. After realizing what he had said, he immediately tried to recover for some reason by adding, “Smart. Yeah, you’re pretty smart. Way smarter than her.”

      “Really dude?” Trevor said, shaking his head.

      “Look, if you really want the logistics behind why she doesn’t like you, ask Alice. Just some advise from personal experience- don’t get on Gracie’s bad side.”

      “Oh,” I said, sitting down on my bed.

      “Liz,” Trevor said. From the tone his voice I sensed he was about to cause unneeded trouble, “I don’t like the comforter thing on your bed.”

      “Yeah, well, the other one’s still in storage,” I said, as Eric’s examined the Boston themed plush covering.

      “Eric!” someone called, opening the door. It was Mrs. Wilson.

      “Hi mom,” Eric greeted, turning to face her.

      “Sweetie, we’re leaving, dad’s on call tonight,” she said.

      “Oh,” he said, understanding the situation.

      “I’ll walk you out,” I said. Mrs. Wilson smiled at me, as did her son.

      “Nice meeting you, Trevor,” Eric said politely, as we walked out of my room, leaving Trevor alone. Mrs. Wilson’s pace quickened, and soon, we were alone in the hallway.

      We were halfway through the long corridor, when Eric stopped, and took my hand. My gut reaction was to pull back, but I resisted, and left my hand in his. “Would it be impolite of me to ask what you’re doing this weekend?” he inquired.