nerd.

treize

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Arielle Evans

Four days. That's how long it has been since my argument with Mason. He hasn't even bothered talking to me, let alone standing up for me. It's like what we had never existed. I'm probably overreacting, considering that it has only been four days, but it hurts. It really does. My irresponsible teacher has once again left the room, muttering something about getting a coffee, leaving me alone yet again. Insults immediately begin the second she leaves. Knowing that I have no hope for Mason, I glance frantically around the room, searching for the familiar long mop of brown hair. No sign of Ashley. I then remember that she is not in my health class, and I sink down I'm my seat, knowing I have no hope left.

"You're a loser, Arielle!"

"Nerd!"

"Four-eyes!"

"Freaky geeky!" Someone chants. Mason remains silent, but when I look at him for a quick second, his face isn't angry, or sad, or defensive. He looks pained, as if he is suffering by all of this. He grabs fistfuls of his hair, and for a second I actually believe that he is going to pull them out. Mason rests his head down on his desk, and I copy his actions, my cheeks resting on the cold wood.

"You're just like the Little Mermaid, only worse because at least she is cool!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that I'm not cool while saying that a movie six-year olds watch is cool?" I mutter under my breath.

"You're a bitch!" A popular from the front shouts.

"Yeah? What did I ever do to you?" I murmur. Much to my relief, my utterly stupid teacher enters the room with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand. Just as she opens her mouth to say something, the bell rings.

"Have a great day, everyone!" The idiotic blonde teacher says shooting us all a fake toothy smile. I slowly walk out of the room, taking my time to gather my books. Another wave of sadness hits me when I realize that Mason has left the room without a word. I let a small sigh fall through my pursed lips and head to my next class. I successfully manage to dodge several feet outstretched to trip me and make it to the classroom on time. The bell rings just as I slip into my seat, and it's only then when I realize that we have a substitute.

"Hello everyone. My name is Mr. Johnson. I am your substitute for today." The man says, straightening his tie.

"Hello." A few people murmur around the room.

"Today you will continue your classwork from Tuesday and study for the upcoming test." He explains, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. I furrow my eyebrows, remembering that the test isn't until two weeks from now. The substitute shoots me a glare just as I raise my hand, and I immediately lower my arm. I pull out my binder from my desk and flip through the messy papers until I found the classwork. I finished off the last problem within seconds and stood to give him the sheet. My chair scraped back with a loud screech, which resulted in the entire class' heated glares. I quickly head up to his desk, handing him the sheet. He glares at me, sending a ripple of fear throughout my body.