Finding The Badboy's Diary [#ONC2022]

Chapter 6: The Dare

Chelsea's POV

For the second time this week, I'm trudging to school without music blasting through my AirPods. This is weird thus it's a tradition I haven't broken since I started high school.

There's nothing I can do about it hence my mind is occupied with the new information I've accumulated this week. This is why I love ignorance because information brings trouble and trouble brings restless days and nights.

I know I appear disheveled with my uncombed hair, bland face sprinkled with freckles, bags under my eyes, and nose itchy from the neglect of my skincare routine. My dressing doesn't help boost my ego either way thus my attire of grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt with white Adidas slides doesn't come off appealing.

Striding to my locker, I notice the stares, though they are few, hence the warning bell has already been rung just as I passed the entrance doors, but they are still disturbing.

I take a peek at my bag after loading it with books, as I worry they might notice something odd which is silly because there's no way they will know that I'm carrying Terry's diary, rather the suspicion lingers.

Crossing my red strapon bag, I shift it to my front for the fear that someone might snatch it from my shoulder, and walk in the path of physics class as I define the emotions I'm having to be guilt.

I'm a bit glad I don't run into Uche before class and also super glad that we don't have this class together, therefore I'll be able to escape her questions and concerns for a little while. Nodding at the teacher, I saunter in, avoiding eye contact with my fellow students and hurrying to my spot at the back.

As I sit, I scoff at Terry who sits on the other side of my line in a loose-fitting blue t-shirt and black sweatpants, coupled with a pair of grey Nike slides. I know, it's weird that we both are wearing the same style of clothing today.

He comes off as a bit worn out and freakishly like a male version of what I look like now. His blonde hair standing at unusual angles, eyes a tad bloodshot, and face greasy. The only difference is that he still appears gorgeous. Heck, I don't think there will be ever a time the dude will look terrible.

The way he still manages to be at ease while I'm messed up inside all because of his stupid diary has me releasing a hollow laugh. He turns, seeming to be done conversing with Victor in the seat before him, and catches me gaping at him. This provokes him to lift a brow, smirk, and then give me the finger.

I understand people might note this as a nightmare, having your bully in all your classes would undoubtedly mean much torture right? Yes, but though I don't like this, I can't do anything about it, and somehow I've come to terms with this fact.

We gaze at each other for a few seconds, our connection breaking the second Victor swerves to speak to him. I alter my vision back to the teacher and slide down in my seat, my head resting atop the back as I drone the middle-aged man's voice down to nothing in my brain.

In half an hour, class ends and so I stand, following my colleagues out of the class and into the next being Biology, which I share with Uche. I'm not surprised to see her seated already as I walk in.

Offering her a smile, I stride to a seat at the back of the class. Seconds later, she flops in the empty chair beside me, her long dreads falling around her open shoulder by the red Gucci off-shoulder blouse she's donning above black fitting trousers.

"You look different," she observes, slanting her body to peer at my face.

"The lack of makeup and lazy attire does the trick," I shrug in response.

"Not that," she refuses. "Your eyes are dim, and look at those bags."

"I'm fine," I say, slapping her palm lightly from my face.