Garden of an Arrogant Bad Boy

Chapter 3: English Mystery

Chapter 3: English Mystery

_Aimee_

The red haired girl, named Janice, turned out to be one of the 'Populars'. But, unlike those stereotypical movies and books most people read, she was nice. Janice had given me directions around the school, resulting in me thanking her almost embarrassingly so because I did not want to have to deal with another class staring session.

She commented on how we only had two classes together, before giving me an apologetic wave as she turned with her friend to go to her next period.

I didn't blame her. I didn't want to be late either. So I took off, heading to AP English. I have to say, English had always been my strong suit.

I'm so proud. AP English. It sounds so...advanced.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hope we have lunch soon. That's the true social pathway. Right now, we are only dropping seeds. Like befriending that Jan girl. Next, we will have to work on your confidence.

You make it sound like befriending Janice was your idea. You know just as well as I do that you had no idea she was popular until that mousy girl on the other side of us told Aimee.

I could tell she was popular by looking at her. You wanna question me more, granny? Or should I go over there and teach you some manners?

Sorry! Sorry! I'm fine over here alone. You just... go along with your business.

It was at the end of their arguing (was it bad that I considered the voices in my head to be people?) that I got to the door, which was propped open with a neon yellow door-stopper.

I had been shoved, pushed into lockers, and cussed at on my journey to this classroom. But I knew from my old school that this was normal, people had places to be and were willing to cuss you out if it got them to where they wanted to go faster. The hallways were rowdy and loud, filled with young adults rushing to and from destinations, with the smell of cheap perfume, Axe, and body odor hanging in the air.

Only half of the class was filled, probably because we still had a few more minutes of passing period before class started, and, at the front of the room, was an eccentric-looking male teacher leaning against his desk, wire glasses propped on his nose and a book in one hand while the other turned the pages with startling speed. He was obviously a fast reader.

I nervously walked up to him, feeling curious eyes peer into my back. The teacher took no notice of me as he continued to read, his eyes hungrily devouring every word.

I wish that we could read that fast, then I could finish all the books that are pilled up at the foot of our new bed.

It's your own fault you have so many unfinished, or untouched books in the week we've been here.

What ever do you mean?

Well when Mom and Dad felt guilty about putting you in a new school in the middle of the school year, they promised to get you anything you wanted, pretty much. Now all you have to do is pull the, " Oh, I had to leave all my friends and move somewhere far away," card and then they let you have their credit card.

I don't see how this has anything to do with my many un-started books.

Stop playing dumb, grannie. You know very well that you pulled that card and went and binged on books.

You do not 'binge' on books. You appreciate them and buy them in large hoards. Plus, I couldn't do that even if I wanted to, which I don't, Aimee is the one in charge of the body not me.