Dear Ex-Girlfriend (Lesbian, Girlxgirl, Gay)

Chapter 11. Boomerang

A teacher was talking when I got there. She was in the middle of discussing about the Welcoming Committee, and only paused to acknowledge the new arrival, aka me. "Take a seat anywhere," she said, then continued.

I ducked instinctively and went to one of the farthest chairs in the room. There were about twenty people there already. Gene wasn't one of them.

"I want it to be as lively as possible," the teacher went on. She was the type who used her hands to express herself, and right then her fingers were waving in the air like she was a fairy Godmother. "We're going to have a party. It will be a great way to meet the freshmen."

A girl in front raised her hand. "Where will we get the funds?" she asked.

"The student council from last year took care of that. It's one of the projects they did before graduation." The teacher went to her desk to retrieve a clipboard. She browsed the list and nodded to herself. "Fifty people signed up for the committee. That's more than enough to do what I have in mind." She tapped a finger on the paper. "When I call your name, come in front to know your assignment."

I waited for five minutes on my seat before my name was finally mentioned. Only three students remained in their chairs. Most of them have left the room to go to wherever the fairy Godmother sent them.

"Destiny Jones," the teacher murmured when I came forward. Her shirt was a mixture of orange, yellow, and green designs. My guess was she was in the creative department. "What can you say is your biggest strength?"

"Uhm. . . I'm good at popping bubble wrap. Does that count?"

A smile flitted on her lips. "They say the best artists are the crazy ones."

"Gee, thanks." I rubbed my neck. Was that a compliment, or did she just call me batshit?

She tapped the list with a pen while considering. "Go to room 3H. You'll find what you need there."

The room had been converted to an activity area. Chairs and tables have been moved to the side. Art materials were everywhere. There were no shortage of paintbrushes, scissors, pencils, paints, and papers. Several students were working on the floor with their own projects. We were the group assigned for the decorations.

Something hard bumped on my shoulder, throwing me off-balanced. I frowned as I steadied myself, and saw tall, rugged Kyle heading to the art supplies. Why did he have to be here?

"Your fault for getting in the way," he said.

I rubbed the sore spot on my shoulder and headed to the table. Fighting with someone like him was a waste of energy, especially since he was prone to throwing his fist out of the blue.

He'd collected papers and scissors when he looked at me again. His face wasn't friendly. It was irritated for something I never did. "Don't you think you're too basic to be here?" he asked.

Ugh. Did he really just say that? Why did I have to suffer from this?

There was always one in every school, I swear. In ours, the resident bully was Kyle Creston. Most people hated him, me included. But he was in the football team like Spencer and Brad, which gives him an automatic appeal to some women.

"Sorry we're not all handsome, great, and athletically inclined like you, Kyle."

"I can't accept your apology," he said.

I snatched a scissor and tucked it away before I shank him prison style. The day has completely turned against me. I wouldn't just stand there another second taking a second blow.

"Tough luck," I said, before going as far away from him as possible.

There was little to say and so much to do. I spread the bulletin board paper on the floor and began to work on the design. The teacher didn't say much about it, except for how she wanted to see colors and liveliness, so I drew an outline of Boy and Girl. They looked more like stickmen than anything.