shine - grayson dolan

0.42 «Emerson Samuels»

God dammit, I should've taken Grayson up on his offer. But, the sleep had sounded so good. 

Oh well. Nothing I could do now. 

I pushed harder on the pedal, and sped up as I got closer to the school. I pulled into the parking lot, and climbed out, nearly tripping over myself.

I checked my watch. Oh shit. It was 8:15.

I rushed inside, and found my first period class, which happened to be almost at the other end of the school. 

I knocked loudly, and opened the door a tiny bit. 

"Miss Samuels, how wonderful of you to join us," Mr. Richardson, the chemistry teacher, smiled at me.

"Sorry, Mr. Richardson," I apologized, walking in. 

"As much as I hate to do this to you, Emerson, I'll be seeing you in detention today," he tells me. 

I sigh, but don't object. There would be no use for it, anyway.

"Do you have your report at least?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah," I fumble though my binder, and hand him the report that was in the blue folder, taking my seat near the back.

"Miss Samuels, are you aware that I don't teach health?" he raises an eyebrow at me, an amused smirk on his face.

I hear snickers go around the room, and I answer in confusion, "Yes, sir."

"Then why do I have a report by the name of 'How Alcohol Damages Much More Than Your Liver'?"

The class laughed, and I smiled sheepishly, "Guess I grabbed the wrong file this morning," I shrug unconvincingly.

He chuckles, "Failure to turn in an assignment on time calls for another detention, as I'm sure you know-"

I interrupt him, "Mr. Richardson, I swear its finished but I just grabbed the wrong thing. I can bring it tomorrow-"

He cuts off my protests, "But as this is your first offense, I will only give you the detention for the tardiness. I'll see you after school in the history classroom."

I sigh again, but take my seat and don't say anything else. 

*  *  *  *

After that class is finished, I meet Grayson in the hallway at my locker.

"What're you smiling so smugly about?" I ask, fumbling with the lock.

"You were late. Hope you enjoy detention," he taunts.

I groan, "How the hell did you know? I swear, people at this school know more about me than I do."

"Word gets around fast. And I hate to say I told you so, but... I told you so, I told you so," he laughs, jumping up and down and pointing at me like a little kid.

I pout, "Ok, ok, you got me. But seriously, how did you know? Word doesn't get around that fast. I just got out of class two seconds ago."

He sobers up from his little teasing fit, "Your outfit."

"What? My outfit?" I look down at what I'm wearing, but don't see anything obvious.

"Give up already? Last time I checked, you hated that shirt," he tells me.

I finally understand, and laugh at my idiocy. I really did hate this shirt. It was a hideous shade of pink, bright and neon to the point where it was literally obnoxious.

"Fine, you were right. Now let me get to class before I get another detention," I say as the second bell rings.

"Sure thing, babe," he gives me a little kiss, "I'll see you later."