Meet Me After Class

Chapter 19: About That Soap

The halls of Pinecrest High felt like a sardine can that Monday morning, with every student seemingly crammed into one space. Glancing at my watch, I couldn't help but think they all had better places to be. Megan and Mason's crew could still be out on the lawn, probably recapping their legendary weekend exploits. Meanwhile, Melissa and the Drama Club gang could be holed up in their secret headquarters, discussing who knows what. And Brinson and his posse could be lurking in their usual pre-first period hideout.

"Wendy," Adam's voice cut through the chaos of the hallway. My best friend wasn't usually the picture of joy, but today he seemed unusually chipper as he strolled up in his trademark hooded jacket.

"Did you know we're in for a month-long freeze and a daily dose of rain?" I quipped, unlocking my locker.

Wait. Ah, so that explained the hallway congestion—everyone seeking refuge from the dreary weather outside—which also explained my three-layer ensemble instead of the usual shirt and pants combo.

"Thanks for the meteorological update. Same thing what the weather guy said on TV yesterday. And—" he tapped my arm, "—how about we run some lines after school?"

"I'll be slaving away at Brown's," I replied with a wry smile. "My young boss is a pretty strict guy. Wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

"Ha-ha! Hilarious! I can't join you guys for lunch later. So, I'm letting you know now.."

"Why?"

"It's Jay. He needs help with something."

"Nothing shady, I hope," I said, pulling my jacket tighter around me.

"Nah, just some gang stuff," Adam joked. "Kidding!" seeing my reaction, he added.

We walked together for a bit before parting ways as the first period bell rang.

The day trudged on, and during lunch, Brinson decided to grace our table with his presence again. Yet again, my best friend was too tired from working overtime at Inked to hold a conversation, so I ended up exchanging more words with Brinson than I ever wanted.

Settling into our usual seats during Creative Writing, Penny yawned and mumbled, 'Damn! What I would give for at least an hour of nap time."

"Your soul?" I said, eyeing her exhaustion.

"I would if I had one," she replied dryly."

When Mr. Scott walked in, our brief encounter at the grocery store suddenly coaxed my mind into reliving it with some slight changes, such as me not blabbing nonsense about my reliable soap.

I cringed at the thought again, trying to shake off the ridiculous soap incident. It took all my willpower to focus on Mr. Scott's lecture. I must've looked like I was zoning out because I could feel his gaze on me more than usual.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed aside the mocking thoughts and tuned back in. Something about our final essay novel selection?

Sitting next to me, Penny yawned and checked her watch repeatedly. The poor girl needed her sleep. I wondered how late she had to work at Inked again.

As the end of Mr. Scott's class approached, I began to feel excited about the essay I planned to write on The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Or maybe I should do Lolita instead?

By the time I was done arguing with myself about whether I should just do Pride and Prejudice instead since I had read it a gazillion times, the bell finally rang.

Penny and I wasted no time gathering our things, but she grabbed my arm and pointed to Megan and Claudia, who were rushing over to Mr. Scott's desk.

"Poor guy can't catch a break," Penny muttered after a loud yawn.