Chapter 9
So, two weeks go by of me hiding my sister from my mom. She's out doing who knows what all day, so it's not that hard to keep her hidden. It's just when she comes home and decides to talk loudly that my mom starts thinking I talk to myself regularly.
Somehow Tuesdays and Thursdays became my favorite days of the week. Mrs. Kidd would leave the classroom and Peter and I would have minimal conversations. Usually it starts with a long awkward silence until I say something and he sasses me back.
I'm intrigued by how he's shy and closed-off in one moment and sassy and funny the next. However he does it, I'm slowly finding myself liking it more and more.
He keeps putting those green sticky notes everywhere to tally up our points. He's winning with ten. I'm not going to lie, I do look forward to finding them on my car or locker or door step.
"Well, if it isn't the new Flash!" I can hear a sickening laugh from the boys bathroom. "You've been promoted, bud."
My stomach drops. How could they do that to him? I stand outside the bathroom door in an internal battle with myself.
"C'mon, take the picture!" a new voice urges. "Did you hear me, Flash?"
"D-don't call me th-that," Peter stutters, his voice weak as if he has been crying.
There's a smacking noise, like a punch or something. A groan follows, making me cringe.
"Just take the picture, Peter. I'll be fine." I remember that voice. It's of that boy, his friend, the gay one. Brandon, was it?
A flush of a toilet follows before the door swings open. I press my back to the lockers to act natural as some football players step out. Aaron isn't one of them, and I'm grateful for that.
"What were you guys doing?" I ask, approaching the group.
"Peeing. It's a bathroom, Grace," Mason's old friend Quentin sasses.
I roll my eyes. "Don't think I won't tell Principal Franklin."
"You didn't when Mason did it," he challenges with a smirk.
"Screw you." I push him, though he has a point. I'm a hypocrite, or maybe I'm just someone who wants to change.
Just as they walk away, Peter and his friend walk out of the bathroom. Peter's eyes are puffy much like his friends.
"Hey," I say as I walk over to them, "are you okay?"
Peter keeps his head down, trying to hide his face from me. His friend smiles sweetly and nods.
"I'm alright," he assures. "Except, those jerks ruined my shirt. I just bought it too."
"I'm sorry." I pout, my eyes moving to Peter. "Peter, you okay?"
"Doesn't matter," he barely whispers and walks off in the other direction.
His friend offers me a smile before walking away. Sighing, I speed walk to find Peter. There's only a few minutes before the first period bell rings, so I'll have to be quick.
"Where are you going?" I ask as I catch him by a set of lockers.
"Just leave me alone, Grace," he mutters, rubbing his left eye.
I bite my tongue. This is clearly not where I thought our friendship was at, though maybe there really never was a friendship at all. I'd like to believe he doesn't hate me, but who really knows how he feels. My boyfriend was the cause of most of his high school trauma.
"Fine." I don't move, however. "You know, I don't think you really want to miss first period."
He glances up at me with his head still low. "I have gym."
