Storm {A Light Novel}

. 9

E

"Did you hear?"

"Oh my..."

"Isn't that kinda shameless of her?"

"It was on the bleachers!"

"Hey, some people like that kind of stuff..."

"Yeah, my sister's a... what's it called?"

"Voyeurist?"

I hear someone get slapped and nearly miss a step.

"No! An exhibitionist."

"Isn't that like the same thing?"

"Guys? Anyway, so—"

I slam my locker shut, only so it's more likely to actually lock. See, I was stuck with one of the few faulty ones since sophomore year. It's beyond me how a school built less than a decade ago can require so much repair.

The sound was a good mute though. Since this morning the school has been buzzing like bitter bees, relaying the same string of gossip from one to another. It had been no more than fodder to me until I caught the meat of it right outside of my third block.

"I heard someone saw her from the dugout. It was Ryleigh Adams!"

"But who was the guy she was kissing?"

"I don't know, but he must be pretty hot. I mean, it is Ryleigh we're talking about."

I distance myself from the group of festering giggles and nearly run into the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. West."

I nod at Mr. Greene and duck my head until I reach my seat. Pulling my hood as far as it will go over my head, I try to take deep breaths to battle the feeling of alcohol pulsing through me. My face is hot.

I'd been subject to rumors before, but none as promiscuous as this. I attribute the lasting heat on my face to embarrassment.

"Hey Eli," a voice chirps to my right.

I startle and turn to, lifting my hood with one hand. "Oh, hi."

Ryleigh snorts. "What, you didn't know it was me? Was it the name?"

I keep my gaze forward and fold my arms on my desk.

"Should I go back to calling you loser?"

The whiteboard is blank. I throw a mental celebration, knowing that means we're watching a movie.

"Hm?" She pokes my arm. "Come on, talk to me."

"Oh my gosh. What part of 'we're not friends' and 'don't try to talk to me like we are' did you not understand, Regina?" I hike my voice up to match what I think Ryleigh sounds like, which earns a hysterical fit of laughter from her. I hope we're the only ones who heard that. Her being the only one who heard my uncharacteristic parody and me being the only one who caught the sound of her genuine amusement.

She attacks my arm with a light slap. "What the heck, why was that actually pretty good?" She continues laughing and barely covers her mouth with her hand as she rocks back.

"Hey, do that again," she prompts. "You should joke like that more often, it looks good for you. I mean it's good for you."

"No way." I press my lips, attempting to prevent a Phase Five outbreak of Elijah's Teeth.

"Whatever," she says lightheartedly. "It looks like we're watching something today. I heard from someone in his first block that we're watching The Bee Movie. Seriously, what is his obsession with bees?"

She jumps, bumping me, when Mr. Greene appears out of nowhere to her right making buzzing noises. "Isn't this what you girls do all day, Ms. Adams? Buzz-buzz." He takes a finger from his tongue to the paper stack he holds and gives us two sheets.

"Make sure you're paying attention so you can fill these out," he says, his voice like a megaphone.

He shuts the lights off, and Liam immediately looks behind him. I realize his eyes are on us. Given he's sitting at the front by the window and we're near the back, it's hard to tell which of us he is actually staring at. Probably Ryleigh.

The margins of my paper fill with doodles, my proudest being one of Barry B. Benson leaning against the response box with a speech bubble to his left reading, "Ya like jazz?"

I make no effort to move even when I feel Ryleigh's very obvious attempts to read my paper, but I tense when I feel her nudging my leg. I ignore it at first. It's probably an accident.

"Hey," she whispers behind her hand, eyes still forward. I glance at the teacher. He has no clue.

"What," I respond. Fortunately for her, whispering is a bit of a forte for me.

"Do you know what you're writing?"

I freeze. In an automatic defense, I guard my paper with my arm. This movement seemingly ends the conversation. My breath comes out shaky when I release it. I hope she doesn't hear.

Mr. Greene pauses the movie and flips the light switch. I count six people rising from their naps and Ryleigh snatches my paper. My head flicks her way, eyes wide.

"Just what I thought," she tilts the paper as if inspecting an archaeological discovery. I reach for it but she only pulls it further away, giggling. "Come on, what's there to hide?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"That you skipped elementary school?" She says a little louder to be heard over the bell and shuffling about the room.

I roll my eyes and reach for it again. "Come on, Ryleigh, just give it."

"Why is every other word misspelled? It's not like your handwriting's terrible--"

"Ryleigh." My commanding tone delivers better than a yell. "Can you please just drop it?"

Her laugh sounds forced now. "Sure, fine, but--"

"Thank you," I say, avoiding her eyes, taking the paper out of her hand, and slinging my backpack over one shoulder as I scoot my chair back.

Mr. Greene looks more than ready for the nap he takes during his last block when he has no class to teach and I'm grateful knowing he won't poke his nose anywhere before we both leave. I submit my worksheet to the turn-in tray and leave Ryleigh behind.