♫ I Like That - Bazzi
That next day, the halls of Wilcrest Girls Academy felt different—they even smelled different.
Long gone are the usual scents of musty books and dirty socks, replaced with sickeningly sweet perfumes. Vanilla. Cotton Candy. Lavender. Cucumber Mint.
And, I don't think Wilcrest has ever seen this much makeup. The girls of the 'Crest are done up to the nines, pressed against their metal lockers with starry eyes. Lips glossed; eyelashes caked. Every hair in this Academy has been brushed, curled, and hair sprayed.
I would love nothing more than to mock the reaction one single teenage boy has created, but unfortunately, I've followed suit.
Smoothing the pleats in my fresh navy skirt, I check to make sure my ruffled white socks are pulled perfectly into place. My hair falls onto my face, sticking in a mass onto my glossy lips.
In a failed attempt, I try to spit the hair away, but end up having to pull it out in a sticky clump. So much for my good hair day.
Approaching my locker, I find my two friends already gathered waiting for me.
Naila's typically matted hair has been gelled and styled. The curls fall perfectly framing her round baby face. It's clear she's attempted makeup of her own; I've never seen her in it.
Dark liner cakes her big eyes. She's tried to add a wing, but one side is drooped, causing her face to look unsymmetrical and sunken.
"Really, you too?" Jade says to me as I reach them. She looks as she does every day. Wild natural hair in a poof around her brown skin. And yet, she probably is still the best looking one here.
Jade is tall and athletic. Strong cheek bones, beautiful skin, full lips and thick sculpted brows. She doesn't even have to try—it's incredibly unfair.
Wrinkling up her nose, she looks past me. "It's like the rejects of Bad Girls Club around here."
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable in my new look, I pull my navy jacket around me, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
"Yeah, it's weird, I guess everyone just felt like dressing up today," I offer avoiding Jade's eyes.
"Uh-huh, I'm sure it has nothing to do with a certain new brooding boy," Jade teases.
The bell cuts through the nauseatingly scented hall, prompting Naila to slam her locker closed before we head off to our respective classes.
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Hastily, I shove my textbook into my locker, closing it quickly before my carefully constructed tower comes tumbling out. I shrug my old backpack onto my shoulders, preparing to head home for the day.
Running a hand over my hair, I can already tell my attempt at sleek straightened hair has failed miserably. Over the course of the day, sweat has caused the top of my hair to begin to curl, caking against my clammy scalp.
See, this is why I don't even try.
"Hey," a voice too deep to be friendly calls out behind me.
Slowly, I turn on my shiny loafers. Jack Moody. And, he's talking to me.
"Uh—hello," I stammer.
He rests one hand in the pocket of his black jeans. It's apparent Wilcrest hasn't found him a uniform yet and taking in his appearance—cream hoodie and black converse, I hope they never do.
The boy dips his head a bit, trying to find my eyes as I realize I've been staring at his body, mouth slightly agape.
Quickly, I snap it shut and stare back at his face with wide eyes.
"Molly, right?" he asks, and I nod hurriedly at the sound of my name from his mouth. "We have that project together. We should probably start working on it."
"Yes, yup. We do have that." The words tumble out in a rush. Sweat beads at my forehead and I feel the makeup start to melt off of me as I add, "Should I come to your house then?"
"No," Jack states firmly, quick to shut me down. "Please, don't do that..."
Right. Why would I invite myself to his house? I purse my lips, deciding its better if I don't suggest any more ideas.
"Burger Shack?" he suggests. "On Freemont. You know it?"
"Yes, I know it," I say with a nod. "I'll ride with you?"
Jack narrows his eyes at me, scrunching up his brows and then says, "No?"
My eyes snap to the side, focusing on the row of dingy silver lockers against the other wall. I have to stop talking.
"I'm going to run home first," Jack explains. "I'll meet you there in an hour?"
"Yes," I say still staring across the hall. "That sounds wonderful. I will see you then."
Avoiding eye contact, I brush past him, taking the long way to exit the school. That sounds wonderful?
What is wrong with me. You'd think I'd never interacted with another human before.
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My yellow bike topples onto the cracked sidewalk in a heap. I thought I was sweating before, after this ride across town, my hair is slicked with sweat.
I'm probably late—I usually am. So, I hurry in through the doors of Burger Shack, a bell chirping as I scan the tables, the smell of salty fried food hitting my senses.
Hunched over a laptop inside a pink and blue booth seats Jack Moody. Perfectly bouncy, soft brown hair falls like waves over his dark, focused eyes.
Wasting no time, I walk across the scuffed cream tiles, sliding into the bench seat across from him. "Hello, I made it."
He leans back, squinting his eyes as he takes in my appearance. "Did you...run here?"
"Oh—no. Rode my bike," I explain feeling even more self-conscious. Using the back of my hand, I try to erase some of the evidence of my extraneous journey.
"You don't have a car?" Jack asks seemingly confused.
"No, no. I'm not allowed to drive," I tell him. "Failed my driver's test. Twice."
He sinks back into the slick cushioned booth. And for some reason that makes me think I owe an explanation. So I continue, "In my defense, I'd never driven on that street before, and that stop sign came out of nowhere."
Knitting his brows together, the faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at his lips. It's a beautiful sight. It overcomes me with nausea.
"And the second time?" he asks. He's actually making conversation with me. That's right, Jack Moody asked me about my driver's test.
"Oh, slammed my brakes on the freeway." His eyes widen and so I stammer, "There was a cat...or I thought there was a cat. Turns out it was a plastic sack."
The boy shakes his head at me, and I smile, pleased at our interaction. Maybe this will be okay after all.
He dips his head down focusing back on the silver laptop in front of him before asking, "Did you want some food or anything?"
"Oh, yes," I say. "That would be great."
Raising his hand, he motions towards the front counter. "Well, you should go order then. We need to get started."
Right. Pursing my lips, I nod before slowly rising from my seat. Making my way to the counter, I tug at my white polo, which is sticky, clinging onto my clammy skin.
It's so freaking hot in here.
I'm next in line, so I step up to the counter. A pale man with spotted skin, dressed in a baby pink collared shirt stands behind the register.
"Welcome to Burger Shack. What can I get you?"