The Jersey Girl ✔️

8: The Lakewood High Hawks

Hey y'all! So hope you're all surviving this pandemic. Happy Easter. Hope it went well for everyone! Anyways, here's today's chapter.

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The sirens blasted in my ears, threatening to burst my eardrums. Covering my ears with my hands didn't help much either.

And the smell of smoke filled my lungs and the air.

Admittedly not the worst thing I'd ever put in my lungs, but this was involuntary.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and pulled it out, expecting a text from my mom or dad. Or maybe even Baylor. But I also wasn't surprised when I saw that it was from Dean.

Dean💛: Are you ok? Baylor said your school is on fire.

Me: I'm fine. The freshman foods class let a grease fire get out of control.

Dean💛: Good. I was worried about you.

I love how nice he is. He might worry a lot, but that's just because he cares about me. And he doesn't want anything to happen to me. Much like how I don't want anything to happen to him.

Me: Well this damn fire alarm is going to make my ears bleed. But other than that I'm fine.

Dean💛: At least you're not in class rn.

Me: If we're lucky, they'll send us home early.

Then I got another text. Which is odd considering that I have practically no friends.

Smith: God my Algebra class is boring.

Me: He hasn't died yet? I thought you said he was like 10000000000000 years old.

Smith: I know. I'm half expecting him to drop dead in the middle of class.

Me: Maybe he'll kill you first. You sound like you're dying of boredom.

Smith: Hopefully. I can't handle this torture anymore.

Smith: Shit. He caught me on my phone. Text ya later.

Me: Lol. Have fun dealing with that.

I already knew Smith was right when he told all the quarterbacks that we'd be best friends. I love texting him. He's supper sweet and funny.

The bell rang three times in a row, signaling that it was safe for us to go back inside.

I headed to my wood shop class along with all my other class mates.

"Okay guys." My teacher clapped his hands together. "Since part of the school burned down, you get to go home. But can we please clean up the classroom first?" He asked, wiping sawdust off his flannel button up.

As quickly as possible, me and fifteen other students, swept the floor, put away hammers, nails, clamps and glue.

I met Baylor upstairs at his locker. Down the hall I could smell the charred debris and smoke. The walls were tinted black from the flames.

Hopefully they get that fixed soon.

"You wanna go get some lunch?" Baylor asked.

"Yeah! I'm starving." I replied, a little too enthusiastically, causing him to laugh.

"How 'bout Popeye's?" He suggested.

"Oh that sounds so good." I bounced up on my toes.

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