Intoxicated

Chapter Eleven

I need to find him. Talk to him. It's the only thing I can think about. Apart from my hungover Dad, Jace's threats, Sadie, Alex's parents and - well, Alex. One of my few capabilities is obsessing over more than multiple things at once. 

I forgot to search him up, I think as I head to class, navigating my way through the hall. It's busier than a beehive, buzzing with chatter. Hopefully I won't need to search him up. With my luck, I might just bump right into Noah. My stomach knots at the thought. What if he tells me something I don't want to hear? Alex is a good person, or was. So what could he really have done? 

Without an answer, I enter the drama class - which I have no intention of participating in. Not that I signed up for it in the first place, all the other options got taken. That's what happens when you ditch school for months, I guess.

I take one of the black seats near the teacher's desk, settling into my head for the hour. What Alex supposedly 'did' came from Jace, anyway. So it was either his fault, exaggerated or completely made up. I don't even think about an alternative. After all, how bad could it really be?

"Right everyone," the teacher says as the others settle down in their seats. 

All of them are huddled in their little groups, apart from the fellow loners that join me on my table. The chair next to me is empty, though - the only one that's empty. 

I slouch back in my seat and scan the room as the teacher continues; some speech about how even if none of us want to be here, we have to at least try. There are no theatre kids in our school, that's for sure. 

Drama is weird - not just the class itself, but the actual classroom as well. Pieces of printed art, quotes and old scripts are stamped along the black, fuzzy strip on the white bricked walls. The tables are pressed up against it, forming an L-shape to leave room for a 'stage' in the centre of the room. Which is really just the school's ugly, lino floor with blue duct tape around it. The teacher's desk is in the corner, right behind me. 

Well, I conclude with an internal sigh, this is gonna be a drag. 

Mr. Douglas, I believe, backs up to his desk as he speaks. "Now that's been said," he says in his nasally British accent. "I have an assignment for you all. It's worth -"

A series of groans and the classroom door creaking open cuts him off. Everyone turns to see, and for once, I copy. But I quickly avert my eyes. It's Sadie. I'm already chewing on the inside of my cheek. I thought she would've taken sport or something - not drama.

Mr. Douglas scratches the back of his bald head. "Uh, hello Sadie. You're a couple minutes late, but that's alright," he says, his voice barely audible even in the thickening silence. "Just take a seat over there. You haven't missed much." He adds, nodding at the empty seat beside me.

The only one left.

A metallic taste pools in my mouth. Of course this would happen. I shift my gaze onto the surprisingly clean, gum-free table as she makes her way over. The two 'loners' in front of me - Jessica and Ryan, I think - narrow their eyes. They almost seem sorry for me, or her. Maybe they saw her reaction when I bumped into her in the hall. Or maybe they knew about Alex, Sadie and me - the popular rejects.

I stiffen as she sits down, tucking her floral black skirt beneath her. She lifts her shoulder bag from across her trapeze baby blue crop top and sets it on the ground. I can't help but glance at her. She's gorgeous, as always - and her top matches the light blue shades in her eyes.

Mr. Douglas continues, stroking his razor-trimmed red beard. "Alright, so, this assignment is worth..."

Sadie has her arms crossed, looking straight ahead, probably at the wall. So she's just gonna pretend I'm not here? I expect at least a glare or a scowl - like she always gave me. Doesn't matter, I guess.

"...And so, I'll be putting you into groups." More groans and rolling eyes.

I feel bad for him - he's trying. At least if we're put into groups, I'll be away from Sadie and not stuck with her or singled out. I hope. 

I dare to face the teacher, trying to look past Sadie's sleek brown ponytail. She's always worn it like that. I could never get away with it - I don't have plump, perfectly rounded cheekbones like she does.

She has almost everything. Pretty, smart and wealthy - I have no idea why she treats me like shit. Especially when Alex and I were friends. It was almost like she was intimidated, but why? How could she have been? She's literally perfect and -

My head snaps up. The teacher is pointing at our table. "Well, I'm not really putting you into groups - you'll just be with the people your next to. So you'll be a group, you'll be a group and..."

My gaze falls back onto the table. Dread curls in my gut. I jinxed it - before - it could be bad. It could be really bad. It is.