She suddenly felt like someone had stepped in her personal space. That was when she realized she had made a huge mistake—she’d dropped her guard.
“I have been looking for you all day. I have a little mess and I needed the waitress to clean up for me.” Cassandra took Elle’s plate and pushed it off the table. Then the high-pitched screech of her voice started back again. “Go on, clean it up, waitress.”
The whole cafeteria grew silent at her words. That word waitress made Elle’s skin crawl, and yet it might as well be her birth name here as far as they were concerned.
Elle thought about the two options she had. Option one: blatantly ignore it or pretend you didn’t hear it; and option two: respond with either a witty response or a few short words. She chose the first then stared at Chloe, wishing she hadn’t by her panicked expression.
“Bitch, I know you hear me.” Cassandra took Chloe’s plate and held it above her head. Chloe quickly tried to move out of the way, but two of Cassandra’s fake blonde bimbos moved to stand on either side of her, forcing her to sit back down. “Clean up the mess like a waitress is supposed to do, or the little freak will have her own mess to clean up.”
Freak was the only other word that made her skin crawl more than waitress.
Elle felt a washrag hit her face, courtesy of Sebastian. She took a moment to see Chloe wringing her hands. She didn’t want this for her.
Okay, this couldn’t be worse. Of all days to have the three messiest foods. Elle swallowed her pride and picked up the washrag. Then she really swallowed her pride when she got down to clean the mess up off the floor.
When Elle was done shaming herself, she walked over to Chloe. “Come on, Chloe. Let’s go.” She held her hand out. She knew Chloe would never take it, but she would get the message to get out of there.
“Sorry, you missed a spot.” Cassandra was about to tip the plate over Chloe’s head, and as a result, Elle did the only thing she could think of. She pushed the plate harder in the opposite direction, all over Cassandra.
The cafeteria was filled with mixed emotions. Some couldn’t help laughing while the others were too in shock of what had just happened to react at all. Elle felt sicker than she had ever been in her whole life. She was seriously about to vomit up the little lunch she hadn’t mopped off the floor.
“You fucking bitch!” Cassandra’s voice screeched higher than anyone thought imaginable. “You are done.”
Elle knew only one option remained now. Run.
Elle grabbed the back of Chloe’s shirt. She was in serious shock, but not enough to hinder her from getting the hell out of dodge. Elle ran straight for the door; this was the whole reason they sat at the table closest to it.
Right before she was going to pass through it, though, she noticed Mr. Evans standing in the doorway. Mr. Evans was her first period English teacher and the only English teacher in Legacy Prep who believed you could be creative in English; not to mention he was nice to look at—all the girls had a crush on him since he started teaching here at the beginning of the year.
Shit, she was trapped. Elle stood there, knowing she was a goner. There was no way anyone did that to Cassandra and got away with it.
“Elle, Chloe, go on back to class,” Mr. Evans spoke calmly, maybe too calmly, but Elle wasn’t about to waste another second of this golden ticket. She had just won the damn lottery.
Elle and Chloe high-tailed it out of the lunchroom. On their way out, Elle heard Mr. Evans calmly speak.
“Ms. Ross, clean up the mess you just made. I can’t have other students thinking they can get away with this, now can I? Oh, and when you’re done, meet me in the Vice Principal’s off…” His voice trailed away.
I am so screwed. No, I am beyond screwed.
When they reached the Spanish classroom and the door came to a close, Elle spoke first.
“I am so sorry, Chloe. It was just a reaction. I didn’t want her to spill it on you.”
“I know, but what are we going to do? She is going to kill us. You know that.” Elle couldn’t tell if Chloe was winded by the run or frightened for her life.
Elle sat down and dropped her head on the desk. “I have no clue.” She looked back up at Chloe. “Any suggestions?”
“Yeah, we become high school dropouts.” Chloe might have sounded sarcastic, yet that couldn’t have been closer to the truth.
2
Bimbo #1
Elle and Chloe were genuinely scared for their life when the bell rang once more to end Spanish class. They were doomed.
The next class she and Chloe had they would be separated. Elle had art class; Chloe had taken it her freshman year; therefore, she couldn’t take it with her. So Chloe had health class, and of course, Elle had taken that her freshman year. It was a shame their whole lives had changed after they had made their schedules for freshman year.
Elle knew she had to drop Chloe off at her health class first. Unfortunately, it meant double the amount of hallway time for herself. Great.
Elle regretfully entered the hallway with Chloe at her back. She picked up maximum speed without drawing too much attention to herself and Chloe. Thankfully, Chloe’s class wasn’t too far from their Spanish class anyways. Elle was grateful to reach the classroom unscathed.
“Wait at your desk when the bell rings. I will be back to get you. I promise I will be the first one out in the hallway.”
Chloe bit her lip. “Um, okay, I won’t move from my seat.”
“Good, I will see you in a little bit.” Elle hoped she sounded strong for Chloe.
“Be careful, Elle.”
That sincere, sweet voice made it hard for Elle to turn her back on her best friend and head to class. Although, now Elle had to worry about getting herself safely to class since she knew Cassandra would be waiting for her.
She picked up her feet and hurried as fast as she could.
Elle took a seat. She usually sat in the back of the classroom, but she needed to be close to the door. She was glad, if she was separated from Chloe, it was art class. This was an easy course and wouldn’t require partners. She remembered Chloe had said her own class had been small and they had never been paired up. “Partners” was the worst thing a girl at the bottom of the food chain could hear.
Elle sank in her seat when Cassandra’s blonde bimbos strutted through the door. Of freaking course.
When they took their seats at the other side of the classroom, they stared Elle down. I am completely screwed.
They whispered something to each other and one o
f them picked up their phones to send a text. Nope, now I am completely screwed.
Elle knew they’d texted Cassandra exactly where to find her. She thought about texting Chloe that she might be dead soon, but she knew Chloe would worry and leave her desk when the bell rang. At least when Cassandra came for her, Chloe would be safe where she was, and by the time she decided to leave, most of the students would have gone home.
Right before class started, Nero walked in and took a seat at the popular table, which consisted of Cassandra’s bimbos and a few athletes. They each only cared about one thing, status. Status meant their whole life to them. Elle thought, if she had a dollar for every time she heard the word status, she would be able to pay for her tuition ten times over.
Elle looked around the room. She was the only person to sit by herself at a table, completely aware of where she stood at Legacy Prep. Even the nerds knew they couldn’t talk to Elle. They wouldn’t even dare to look at her. Elle never blamed them, either. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in here.
As soon as class began, the teacher wanted them to go ahead and start their first project. It was easy; all they had to do was make a poster that best showed their individual personality, using any materials they desired.
Elle stared at her blank white poster, wondering exactly who she was. Well, she knew who she was, but these walls made it hard for her to be herself. No, she just couldn’t be herself here.
She was strawberry-blonde, her hair reaching the top of her breasts, and had big blue eyes. She had a slight tan to her skin, which contrasted her hair and eye color. She liked that, being different and having character; unlike the other kids her age who strove to all look the same. She believed she looked younger than the other girls her age, although maybe it was the lack of makeup and fancy clothes. She couldn’t quite tell. Regardless, her looks did not define who she was.