SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 27.5

He crossed his hairy arms across his chest, sucking in his bottom lip. "I'm going to let this slide since you're practically new but next time I'll write you a slip."

"Gee, thanks, sir." I glanced around the class to see everyone was in pairs and it had to be my lucky day because I was the odd one out. I wanted to die of embarrassment and silently hoped Joe would let me work on my own. I didn't know anyone. Irvin was at the funeral. All I saw were rows of blank and uninterested faces.

"I'd like you to go work with Rachel and Ivy, Shay. They'll explain the task to you and then you'll be presenting to the rest of the class." Joe sat down, typing away at his laptop.

I stared around the class and then turned to him. "Work with who?"

"Raise your damn hand, Rachel." Joe called.

Two girls at the back who'd been muttering to each other reluctantly called me over. I tried to smile at them but I failed miserably. I was goddamn tired. I wished I slept earlier. "So, what are we doing?" I cut to the chase.

"This case study," Rachel, a girl with an Afro and a silver septum piercing ring, flipped the textbook over to me and jabbed at the page with a dirty fingernail. "And then answering the questions. We gotta teach the class afterwards. Ivy is taking questions 1-3, I'll do 6-8 and you can do four and five. That cool?"

"Yeah."

"You transfer schools?" Ivy asked. It was a chance to be nosy though the answer was more than obvious. Ivy was pretty and she constantly played with her hair. Her eyes were drowned in black eyeliner and her eyelashes were thick with mascara.

"Yeah."

"You're Irvin's friend?" Ivy wanted the details.

"Yeah."

"You don't speak much, do you? It's all yeahs and grunts." Rachel snickered.

"Well, you don't fucking ask open questions, do you?" I don't know why I was so angry. I should be trying to make friends, not enemies. Maybe if I had some coffee or an energy drink, I'd be more in the mood for smiles and small talk – that was such a shitty excuse, I realised. I should face facts: I simply sucked at interactions.

"Woah. Chill out, white girl." Ivy yelped. She looked like she was enjoying seeing me all riled up. What a nasty bitch.

"She ain't white," said Rachel. "Seen her brother. He's black."

"I see it." Ivy leaned forward, chin in her hand, squinting at me. "She's got black features. Looks white. But black features. Sorta like Michael Jackson in a way, don't you think?"

"Wow. You are a fucking cunt."

Ivy seemed surprised. "That's harsh."

"You said I looked like Michael Jackson, for Christ sake."

"Not like him. But you're mixed like him. Like brownie mixed in a white bowl. Understand?"

"Jesus. You are full of horse shit."

She pursed her lips and snickered. "Touchy subject, Jackson?"

Rachel jostled her. "Let's do the work first then talk."

"Great idea." I was tempted to yank Ivy by her hair and throw her across the classroom like Miss. Trunchbull had done to the girl in the pigtails.

It was almost the end of class. Just as we were about to be called to the front of the class to present, Ivy remarked under her breath. "Anyway. You're not even fully black. You're like, an abomination. Was it Mummy who spread her whore legs or Daddy who shot his dirty seed into the black mix?"