Saved By A Bad Boy

[5]. The Thing About Jax...

I fumbled through the weekend, just like always. I woke up on Saturday, wondering what I was doing with my life. And then I woke up on Sunday, also wondering what I was doing with my life. Then I woke up on Monday, and I remembered what I was doing with my life: Failing at it.

"Come on, get up and at it, Alyssa," I heard my mother say as she shook me awake. I cracked one eye open and stared at her through sleepy lashes, pondering whether or not waking up was even worth it. Of course I was exhausted. The nightmare visited me last night, the same one that haunted me more and more often since Chloe Maxwell died. It seemed like every bad thing that happened in my life only enhanced my deepest fears more, and it always came back to the one thing that hurt me the most.

The one thing that played inside my dreams every night I went to sleep.

I reluctantly sat up, staring into the bright, golden eyes of my wide-awake mother. Screw morning people. She coaxed me out of bed, forcing me to my feet before pecking my forehead with her lips.

"I gotta head in to the office early today, alright? I love you," she told me, brushing long strands of tangled hair out of my face before kissing me again. "There's some French toast left on the counter. Bye!" With that, she dashed out of the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Screw French toast. I didn't feel the need to fuss over breakfast, so I just slipped on some sweatpants and a t-shirt with an elephant on it before heading out the door, throwing my hair up in the messiest messy-bun ever known to man.

And that is pretty much the summary of a Monday morning for me.

Unfortunately, Maya and I didn't get much of our assignment done over the weekend, because she was "dying," so we'd have to really crack down tonight if we wanted to get the astronomical grade I hoped to achieve.

I trudged through the day, and Maya - who was still dying - trudged alongside me. Screw Mondays.

When we arrived in history class for our last period, both of us looked like extras straight out of a zombie movie. Our attentiveness level was at a minimum, and so was our tolerance level. I pretty much spent the day working on my assignments in between periods, and Maya pretty much spent the day whimpering about the horrors of French class.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived in history, however, was Anthony Meyers. I hadn't seen him since Friday, but I now noticed the purple-and-red bruises that had swollen up around his left eye and lower lip. He looked like someone hit him with a truck.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Anthony was such an arrogant douche bag that one of these days someone was bound to teach him a lesson. This particular lesson just happened to be the puffy discoloration on his face.

For the first time since Jax and I stopped talking, Anthony didn't say a word to me. In fact, he didn't even look at me. Sometimes his gaze would flicker to me and then he'd hastily avert his eyes, as of he'd catch a disease just by making eye contact. Chris Stallings also kept his distance from me, and for that matter, so did a lot of guys. In fact, almost all of them were leaving me alone. I had just been too tired and cranky to notice such a heavenly blessing.

I didn't know why boys suddenly acted like I had the plague, but I wasn't complaining. I hadn't felt that kind of security since Jax and I were friends, and so I happily reveled in the boy-proof bubble that suddenly enclosed me. Most likely, Anthony was so angry at me for pushing him away that he made up rumors about me having STD's or something.

I didn't really care.

When the final bell rung, everyone shuffled to their feet and flooded out of the classroom, Maya and I drifting in the current.