Rolling Dice [sample]

11: Rolling Dice

Haven't edited this one, since I won't have internet connection for very long and couldn't upload earlier - was over my boyfriend's watching Supernatural (we're on season two :D) so here's chapter eleven, hope you enjoy :)

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Chapter 11

The week passes in a blur. My classes are all pretty good. Tuesday morning, we all pick out electives in homeroom. Tiffany and Melissa don’t have to, since they’re doing cheerleading in some of their free periods. I scan through my choices: Drama club, choir, debate team and creative writing.

                They all suck, really. But since I have to pick something, I end up choosing creative writing. It can’t be that hard, can it? But no way was I going to join choir or drama. I don’t sing outside of the shower, and I’ve never acted in my entire life. I didn’t even bother to consider the debate team. Those three options would involve me getting out there, in front of people, and I’d just really rather not.

                It turns out that creative writing isn’t so bad; the teacher just leaves us to our own devices, mostly, giving us all a blank journal and telling us to write whatever we want. So that’s what I do.

                The week flies past though, so quickly that I wonder where it’s gone. I struggle through physics with Dwight trying his best to be patient as he talks me through the basic things in more depth.

                Throughout the week, I get introduced to a few more people – most of them friends with the popular clique, but not necessarily very close to any of them, but they’re also mostly seniors, so have a slightly separate popular clique. Everyone I meet seems nice enough though.

                I carry on talking to Carter in Art & Photography, even when he suggests I don’t.

                “Your friends won’t be too impressed if they find out you hang out with me in art class.”

                “I don’t really care, to be honest,” I tell him. I do care a little, but not enough that I want to not speak to him at all. That just seems stupid.

                By the time Friday rolls around though, time drags by, and I can’t stop fidgeting throughout the whole of double AP Physics in the morning.

                “What’s eating you?” Dwight asks, a chuckle in his voice. “You can’t sit still.”

                “Tiffany’s having a party later tonight.” Even my voice sounds nervous and fidgety – jumpy.

                “Ah, I thought it was that. I heard about it the other day,” he adds by way of explanation. “Why are you so nervous though?”

                I shrug my shoulders alternately. “I don’t know. I just – I didn’t do parties much in Pineford.” He’s the only person I’ve told that to. I clamp my mouth shut instantly. I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t have just let myself tell someone.

                But it’s Dwight, I think to myself. Dwight’s… different.

                “Oh.” He nods, and doesn’t ask me anything more about it. I’m glad; I don’t want to elaborate on it at all.