Chapter 3 - Sadie’s POV
I shove my galaxy-themed backpack into my steel locker and slam the door shut like a steel mouth that narrowly misses chomping on my fingers. The bell rang, singing a screeching chorus that told me I was late for first period. God damn it, I curse. Mrs. Yancy is the absolute worst when it comes to punishing tardy students. I’d have to stay after school. I walk past my juvenile delinquent friend, okay, my only friend, Silas.
“You’re late,” he says in a nasally voice, mimicking Mrs. Yancy’s tone perfectly.
“Screw you, Silas. You’re late, too.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have Yancy. I have Wallace.”
“So what? Wallace is just as bitchy.”
“Something like that. See you after school,” he says with a grin. I walked the rest of the way to class.
“You’re late,” screeches Mrs. Yancy. “See me after school. The rest of the class snickers at my predicament. Well, who gives a fuck about them? They’re all jackasses who’ll never amount to anything. No one cares about what your social status is. They care about your GPA. Which is, at least for me, not bad. I get Bs and Cs, and one D in math (what else?). Silas, however, isn’t so lucky. He gets Ds, and has since fifth grade. He flunked fifth grade once, that’s how he’s in the same grade despite being seventeen and not fifteen like little old me.
“Sadie,” snaps Mrs. Yancy. “What is the answer?”
“Um… forty two?” Mild laughter makes my face burn, even though I said it to be funny.
“Wrong. Can anyone help us out?” She calls on a kid in the back of the room.
“Yes, Emily?”
“Five.”
“Correct. Good work, Emily.” Mrs. Yancy directs a pointed glare at me. I glare right back. It’s not my fault I’m stupid, or that Emily VanBuren is the only one paying attention. It’s like: use English please? I don’t speak mathematics. It’s classes like these where Google replaces Silas as my best friend. Mrs. Yancy passes out the homework and I stare at the arcane symbols before cramming the sheet into my binder. I’d worry about it later. Everyone else gets started on it while I pull out my phone.
GET ME OUT OF HERE! I text Silas.
Sorry mate. Can’t help you.
Screw you.
“Sadie, may I ask what’s so fascinating?” asks Mrs. Yancy, leering over me. I hurriedly shove my phone in my desk, but it’s too late. “Give me that.” I hand her the phone and look at the floor.
Damn it. I’m in even deeper shit. My dad is going to kill me.