Chapter 1:

Where is she? I can't be late again; I had my first warning of being tardy last week, waiting for her. Matter of fact, Quinn's been a no show for the past week. 

Shit. I pull out my phone, texting her. Where are you? I stared at my screen, waiting for her response. The three bubbles pop up. I inhale, the bubbles disappear. What the hell? I nibble on my bottom lip. Guess I'm taking the bus. Again. I walk to the bus stop just in time. The yellow bus is coming from the corner. It stops in front of me; I find a seat in the middle row. Nathan, one of my classmates, is sitting behind me. "Hey," I say to him.

"Hey. Third time this week. Should be a record," he replies in a joking tone.

I laugh, "I know."

"Everything ok?" He wonders.

"I hope so." I pull out my phone for any notifications, nothing. Except for the weather report: 80 degrees partly sunny. I settle in my seat, watching the leaves blow from the wind out from the window. Quinn promised we would ride in style when she got her car on her 17th birthday. For the past week she's been MIA. As the bus comes to a stop in front of the school building,  the big sign of Carver High, home of the Hawks right above us, I step off and speed walk to the entrance. No sign of her, anywhere. Oh, well. Can't rely on her for a ride. She's with Tyler most of the time. 

As I stride to my locker, I see him. Him. I flare my nostrils as he strides through the hallway like a model. Ugh, I roll my eyes. Who does he think he is? Like he's royalty. Sure, he's great to look at, his cheekbones and chiseled jaw but whatever. As he passes me by. His girlfriend, Jessica, jumps on him, planting her lips on his. That's still going on? I thought they broke up. I headed to my locker for my algebra journal.

 Someone taps on my shoulder. I turn around, Quinn smiles, teeth in view. Her hair's up, her skin is flushed. I frown, tapping my index finger on her forehead twice.

 I gasp, "oh, you're real!"

"Funny, haha," she rolls her eyes, "look, I'm sorry for not picking you up today."

"All week," I correct her, taking out my spiral notebook and chemistry textbook.

"Four days," she tried to downplay and shrug. I give her a blank stare. "Fine, all week. I joined the debate team." She laces her own fingers together.

"The debate team?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Mm-hmm," she nods.

"Interesting, seeing that you didn't want to join after-school activities." Her exact words: 'why the hell would anyone want to stay after hours, in school?'

"Not true, I believe it builds our educational foundation." She halts at each word.

"I told you that on the first day of school," I remind her. "You can say you were with Tyler."

They began dating over the summer. He went to the movie theater where she works, watched the same movie for two months until he mustered up the courage to ask her out for ice cream.

"I.. we.. Are you mad?" She gives me a pity expression.

"No," I scoff playfully.

 Pulling out her cell, typing away on her screen. She looked up when she finished. "I'll make it up to you. This weekend we'll watch all your favorite old reality TV shows."

"Even America's Next Top Model?" She hates watching the show because of the unrealistic photoshoots, hairstyles and one time modelling contract. I see her grit her teeth.

"Yes," she answers with a clenched jaw. 

"And Real World?"

"Of course."

"Yay." Quinn links one of her elbows with mine. Before we made another step, her text notification went off. "I gotta go."

"What? We have homeroom." I point to the opposite end of the hallway.

"I won't be long. If Mrs Grayson asks, tell her where I am. Bye," she sings, skipping off. I shrugged it off, heading to class before the door shuts in my face. The classwork is on the board. I take out my journal and calculator.

 As I stare at the equation on the board, trying to figure out the right answer, my eyes drift to the back of Samuel's neck. His seat was right in front of me. I can smell the scent of his cologne. I sniff twice. It smelled like my dad's.  Strong, it tickles my nostrils. Ever heard of moderation? I withheld a cough, clearing my throat. Quinn's seat is still empty. On the first day, we sat next to each other and Mrs Grayson informed us that's our assigned seats. I erase my recent answer, blowing away the debris. Which formula do we use again?

"Sorry I'm late," Quinn's voice says in an apologetic tone, "debate meeting." I look up for a second, going back to the equation. 

"The equation is on the board," Mrs. Grayson informs her. She slides her feet to sit down. I hear her unzipping her bag. 

+++

"You have rehearsals today?" Quinn asks when the homeroom ended.

"Not really, Ms. Laughlin wants to discuss what play to do next," I tell her. After the success of the summer musical we had no idea of what our teacher/acting director was planning. 

"Please do Rent." She crosses her fingers.

"Maybe," I giggle, "if Sam doesn't get the lead."

"Oh, still holding a grudge?" she teases, elbowing me in the stomach.

"No." I frown.

"It's not his fault that your audition tanked."

"It didn't tank, I got nervous," I shrug.

"Nervous?" she scoffs, "you looked like you got petrified." Okay, so my audition wasn't spectacular. When I got on the stage, I froze. I couldn't talk, my mind went blank. I was too focused on the lights. I stammered, my head was fuzzy.

"That's not the point, he always gets the lead. There's other people that work hard for the center stage moment."

"Sounds like you're jealous."

"I'm not."

"Hmm. I'll see you at lunch." She waves before turning to leave.

"Yeah." I have to go to the bathroom. After doing my business, I wash my hands and fix my hair in the mirror. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, but Sam gets every part and people fawn over him. It's annoying. He's annoying. I pushed the door open, heading to my next class. There's a poster of Sam front and center from Midsummer Nights Dream in my face. I groan in annoyance, heading to the next class.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!