Marney in the Middle

Chapter 5: Step One Complete

A/N: Photo is of Mr. Herkabe.
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In U.S. History the next day, I sit with my arms crossed and barely listen. Malcolm is seated at the front; Mr. Herkabe decided it would be 'better for everyone' if he started sitting there now. A total load but Malcolm was smart enough not to argue. His new seating arrangement isn't why I glared at the back of Mr. Herkabe's head the entire class period, though.

Reese never called.

I waited up two hours just in case. Radio silence. Well, phone silence anyway.

Toria and I argued about what I would wear while we waited; she said skirt and tank top, I said capris and blouse. We found a compromise with my short-sleeve light blue dress with a midnight blue knitted floral cover. Cute enough for her and covered enough for me. Win, win. Matched with my dark blue suede ballet flats and a zip-up quarter-sleeve jacket, my outfit for today was ready.

I wasn't.

Why didn't Reese call? I know my first impression wasn't phenomenal, but I couldn't imagine he would be too judgey. It's not like he has girls lining up single-file to date him. Sighing, I shake my head. That was rude. I'm just . . . hurt?

For lack of a better term, sure. Hurt. Didn't even realize I care enough to feel it yet I do.

"Alright, class, turn-in your essays and collect tomorrow's assignment sheet."

A collective groan runs through the class. Another assignment already? He must seriously hate his job.

"Oh, no, no - there will be no complaining. You either do as I say or you fail. Those are your options."

What a jerk.

Pulling out my essay, I wait for the people to mill by before getting up. But more importantly Malcolm. Since he's in the front row, he's up and out of the room before almost everyone else. Even if it's just a silly crush, I can't risk him getting the wrong impression. Actually the right impression. Any damn impression. I shake my head with a groan - this makeover will be my bane. I just know it.

After handing Mr. Herkabe my essay, who looked surprised that I finished, I exit the room after blonde, frizz-haired girl from yesterday. She walks with an almost unnoticeable limp and has thick-lensed glasses. Malcolm's beside his locker, which is outside our classroom. Frizz-hair walks up to a locker a few down from his and starts chatting. So they know each other then.

A twang of something sharp in my gut makes me frown. It's not like he's my boyfriend, or even my friend. He can talk to whoever he wants.

I quicken my pace to pass without his noticing. Unfortunately he does.

"Hey, Marney," he says in his nasally voice.

I feign surprise. "Oh, hi, Malcolm."

Frizz-hair is squint-glaring from my face to his. I hold my head higher and straighten my back to subtly push out my chest. Tip number three.

"Did you get my note," he asks.

I nod with a smile, "Thank you; it was very nice of you."

"Sure, no problem." He gives me a no-teeth smile, his eyebrows arching up. We're quiet for a few seconds. I bat my eyelashes and smile back.

Frizz-hair clears her throat.

"Oh," Malcolm says, his eyes dancing to his friend's face. "Marney, Jessica. Jessica, uh, Marney."

"Hi," I say and put out my hand. She gives me the look all of the others kids have been giving me but shakes it anyway. Actually knows what she's doing, too - not Carolina Frisbee's fish-shake. "It's nice to meet you."