The Bad Boy Calls Me Kitten

Chapter Four

Strangely enough, Scar was not in school. Or maybe he was and I just hadn't seen him yet. After all, Scar had to be 18 or older, while I was still 16. He lived alone legally so it would make sense. He was either a senior or had already graduated.

I went to the second floor, grabbed my books, and headed to first period. I had Maths first, yay me. It was the best part of my life, note the sarcasm. It's just what I wanted. Learning formulas at 7: 30 in the morning with a teacher that may or may not have been thrown into the wall as a child. Mr. Stine was a grouchy 50 year old man with a low tolerance for talking. I mean, I think he seriously hated everyone. I had never seen Mr. Stine smile a day in his life. He was one of the strictest teachers in Heatherridge, and I was stuck with him for 90 minutes for the rest of the semester.

Worse yet, my Maths class had to be set up as a joke. I could have sworn someone was setting me up because our class was simply ridiculous. It was like something you would see in a chick flick movie. We had the Barbies and their leader Nora, the outcasts, the jocks, and the nerds. I suppose I fit in more with the nerds, although I had yet to call someone my best friend. Not that I minded, of course. I rather enjoyed daydreaming about things than listening to a girl spew off her problems and expect me, her glorious best friend, to pull out a magic solution straight out of the air. Books were way less drama, and I wanted to keep it that way.

I entered the classroom, which was already filled with chaos. Some boys were throwing around paper balls and airplanes, while the Barbies were huddled in a group in the corner talking about something. They were glancing around suspiciously as if someone was listening to their conversation. Seriously, what were they discussing? Nuclear launch codes?

I took a seat near the back, the second row from the last. We didn't have assigned seats, but everyone had their seat, you know? Unofficially claimed seats that were just always theirs. One person sitting in someone else's seat, and all hell breaks loose.

Mr. Stine entered the room, and I swear time just froze for half a second. Instantly, everyone just ran to their seats before he could start handing out detention slips. Mr. Stine thought that keeping a bunch of rude, hormonal teenagers in a classroom after school was over was the perfect solution to everything. Late to class? Detention. Caught chewing gum? Detention. Having unprotected sex in a closet while listening to John Mayer and knitting a scarf? Detention.

Rain was softly pattering against the windows. It created a soothing sound effect against the droning voice of Mr. Stine. Eventually, I zoned out and was doodling on the top of my notebook when I heard my name being called.

"Miss Warrens?"

I looked up, hearing the class chitter with laughter. I could feel all the blood rushing to my face in that instant. There was nothing worse than being called on in class when you have not a single damned clue what the teacher was talking about because you were too busy daydreaming and thinking about what it would feel like to drown in a swimming pool full of Skittles. And in my defense, you would be wondering about that too in such a boring class.

"Answer to my question?" he asked sternly, glaring at me through his old man reading glasses. I stuttered stupidly, looking at the board and trying to figure out what the question had been. It was so quiet in the classroom that you could have heard a fly sneeze. I could feel everyone's burning gaze on me, like I was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world now.

I had no clue what the answer or the question was, but I faintly remembered at the beginning of the lesson, we had been discussing formulas. "The reactant equals the product?" And then I realized my mistake. That was biology, duh. "No wait, that's wrong. Crap. Okay. What was the question again?"

A few chuckles floated to the air. I blushed even harder, feeling Mr. Stine's unamused glare on my face. A minute of suffocating heat overtook my cheeks before I calmed myself down enough to think.

"Since this lesson seems to be boring you, feel free to repeat it at anytime." Ah, here comes the inevitable. "Miss Warrens, I will see you in dete-"

The door opened, cutting him off. Everyone's eyes were off me, much to my relief and onto the person who had entered the classroom. I kept my gaze trained on the black tabletop, still recovering from my embarrassment.

When I finally decided to look up, all the blood from my face drained.

Scar had entered the room, and was now talking to Mr. Stine in a low voice. He had on a dark jacket over a grey shirt and dark jeans. His hair was tousled, as if he hadn't bothered to brush it. What did I tell you? Bad boy with really pretty eyes and a high tolerance for pain.

He turned around, gazing around the room. His dark eyes settled on me, and I could almost make out a hint of amusement in his stare. I broke the eye contact and looked around the room.

Almost every girl in the room had straightened up. The preps and cheerleaders were twirling their hair in a flirtatious manner. The boys were shooting furtive glances at their girlfriends and at Scar. Everyone could practically feel the tension, the competitive atmosphere that arrived with him. I could already tell that the guys took an instant dislike to Scar.

He sauntered down the aisle, still looking at me. I noticed how he walked with a limp. I stiffened in my chair as he took a seat in the back row, directly behind me even though there was at least 3 more open seats.

Mr. Stine resumed teaching. I, on the other hand, was sitting uncomfortably in my chair. Even though I couldn't see Scar, I could feel his eyes on me. Why was Scar in this class? He surely was a senior. So Scar hadn't exactly announced his age to the whole world, but it didn't make sense. I could only assume he had failed a grade to be in here. Or a couple.

I decided to let it go. Scar wasn't my problem. I was determined not to let him affect me in any way. I stared out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the thick glass. The trees beyond the school had taken on a smoky gray from the fog. It was kind of beautiful in a depressing way.

Something bounced off the back of my hair. I turned around, annoyed, to see Scar's amused glance on me. He was breathtakingly gorgeous. For a moment, I could only stare dumbly at his perfect features. His lips formed a silent "meow." Coming back to my senses, I looked down to see a crumpled piece of paper on the floor next to my feet.

Before I could grab it, another hand did. I straightened up, swallowing dryly. Mr. Stine's stern gaze looked back at me, holding the note in his hand.

"You may come to detention tomorrow as well. I will not have anyone disrupting my class. Is that understood?" he questioned angrily.

I nodded, fuming.

Behind me, there came a low chuckle of laughter.