Not What it Seems

Chapter Two

~Jane~

Cash Anderson, I thought to myself bitterly, he probably thinks I'm some charity case.

I strolled into my homeroom were Jason was waiting for me. Jason was tall, and gangly, with untamable, thick, black hair. He gave me a small smile when he caught sight of me.

"Hey," he said, looking down at me. "How've you been?" he asked, and I found it quite irritating considering that he saw me practically a week ago.

It wasn't as if anything had changed. It wasn't as if my Dad, or Jake, had returned.

Over the summer, my parents finally reached their breaking point, ultimately deciding to get a divorce. I wasn't surprised, to be honest. For as long as I could remember my parents had been the worst couple on the planet.

When I was younger, I could only take one of them to school functions because the two of them couldn't be civil with each other for over ten minutes.

Anyway, when Dad left, Mom kind of lost it. I guess she figured that sure, their marriage was shitty and falling apart at the seams, but he would never leave right? Ah, but he did. And my Mom drowned out the pain the only way she could.

With alcohol.

It worked out perfectly for her too, because it wasn't as if she needed to work or anything. We had been living off of her inheritance since I was born, and I was pretty sure it would keep us going until Mom died.

Jason looked at me funny and I realized I hadn't answered him. "I'm alright," I lied, as I took my seat in front of him.

"Have you heard from Jake?" he asked, and I nearly laughed, because the only thing Jason and I had in common was Jake.

"Nope. He's probably off partying with Katy Perry, don't worry about it," I said, and I knew I was being a bitch, but it was inevitable. I had nothing to be happy about.

~Cash~

I wasn't sure how to react to Jane.

She was... intriguing. I guess it's creepy to say I've had a crush on her since middle school even though we hardly know each other, so I won't say that.

Lets just say I have a soft spot for Jane, that I'm impartial to her.

Oh, who am I kidding? I like her. I like her, even though I don't know her.

I walked into my homeroom to find Chris sitting in my seat. I nudge him with my foot.

"Move your ass," I said and he grinned at me.

"How many girls did you hook up with this summer?" he asked, still sitting. I rolled my eyes. Hooking up with girls isn't something to be proud of, or gloat about. Endless hook ups just decrease the value of sex. It makes into something dirty.

"Stand up and I'll tell you." He got up and I sat in the seat. He looked at me expectantly.

I shrugged. "I wasn't counting."

He groaned and walked away.

If I was counting, my count would be up to zero.

»»»»

High school was a place you didn't want to revisit once you had left. In that sense, I didn't understand why anyone would want to be a high school teacher. Why would you want to relive it? Watch it happen to all new students?

Take the lunch room, for example. You had designated eating areas. Geeks by the trash cans, the rich kids by the window, the stoners outside, the drama kids by the door, it was all segregated.