High - @((Y^!@ Allyvia (guided reading books .TXT) 📗

about something she had drunkenly slurred at the party the weekend before-- and Lucy smiled despite the stares directed her way. She then glanced at Nix, her smile fading. How had he done this, she wondered. How had he so quickly warped her view of the people who bullied her, who made Hamilton High an intolerable, eight-hour prison sentence?

 

The sunlight licked at his golden skin, his eyes a sparkling caramel as the light bounced into the shadowed caverns of his sunken eyes, the light blond hairs on his forearms looking like wheat. The cool autumn air made his cheeks rosy, which was a reminder that he wasn't quite a man despite the stubble that crept up on his face. His rosy cheeks made him look juvenile. The pale purple skin stuck to his lip, from the grape he had popped into his mouth. Her eyes lingered on his lips, pink and plump, as he spoke. She wasn't sure why, but in the moment she was wondering what his lips would taste like.

 

"-like, totally failed that test," Nick insisted, a spark in his eyes. Lucy, blinking, tore her eyes away from the shining white pearls of his teeth and creases of pink flesh, and furrowed her brows. Nick chuckled, nudging her playfully. "And to think, I thought you were a great listener. Looks like I'm going to have to unload all this Amy drama onto someone else."

 

"No, you're right," she laughed, "I'm horrible at this, the whole listening to drama thing. I'm sorry, I was just... distracted."

 

Nick chuckled, and shrugged, his smile fading for a moment. His eyes flickered upwards, and felt his stomach tighten. The geeky, awkward boy walking alone, his shoulders hunched and collar of his jacket licking his jawline, had bent glasses. Michael Brown walked like he was expecting to get hit. Lucy seemed to notice, and glanced up, smiling lightly at the shy boy.

 

"Hi, Michael," she waved, her slender fingers wagging like a dog's tail. Michael grinned, a nod of acknowledgement thrown her way, before seeing Nix and blanching.

 

"H-Hey, Lucy," he stuttered, pushing his bent glasses up his nose. Nix felt a pant of regret in his stomach, as he tried to make eye contact with the kid.

 

"You know Nick, right," Lucy asked, gesturing between the two. Nix didn't know if she had a clue about the football players beating up Michael, and yet he had no way of finding out. Instead, he smiled and stood, clapping hands with the other guy. Michael seemed to shake, as Nick pulled him into a bro-hug.

 

"Yeah, Mike and I go way back," Nick joked, pleading for Michael to keep his mouth shut. Michael seemed to get the hint, and nodded quickly.

 

"I-I, uh, was gonna see if you wanted to eat lunch with me, but-"

 

"Oh," Lucy jumped, "why don't you join us? Matt is supposed to be over here soon-"

 

Michael's eyes seemed to become saucers, the light blue irises looking like the paint on fine china plates, and he shook his head furiously. "N-No! I have this thing, in the science wing... I-I'll just talk to you later."

 

He didn't say another word, and simply shuffled away like he had ants in his pants. Lucy quirked a brow after him, watching in the dull sunlight and hearing the laughter of other students.

 

"What was his problem," she wondered, turning to Nick and hoping to get his input. "He looked like he saw a ghost."

 

Nick shrugged, hoping she didn't ask anymore questions; he was a horrible liar.

 ~~~

 

"Ohmygod," Leah Hopkins cried, bouncing through the halls. Amy, glancing at her right flank and watching the Juicy-sweat-clad cheerleader skip, the spring in her step reminding Amy of a bouncy ball. It was perky, and annoying, mildly stated. Amy rolled her eyes, and slumped against her locker, dialing the code but to no avail. With a sigh of frustration, she tried again, only to have a large, masculine hand clamp over hers. She didn't even have to turn around to know it was Matt. 

 

She lifted her face, baby blues making her heart do the tiniest of jigs, nothing compared to the throbbing in her chest when Nix smiled at her. The baby blues, which were crinkled into a half-smile, grew closer until she felt the heat of his lips on her cheek. A quick peck, and yet his arms wrapped around her waist like he never wanted to let her go. He was making this whole 'I-had-a-one-night-stand-and-am-love-with-your-best-friend-thing' so much harder. 

 

"Hey," he smiled, pulling her fingers from the lock and dialing the numbers he knew by heart. It swung open on his first try. 

 

"Hey," she offered, weakly. Matt didn't seem to notice, and wove his fingers through hers. 

 

"So, what were you 'Ohmygod'ing about," Matt asked, crinkling his brows. Amy shrugged, and glanced at Leah. 

 

"What's up?"

 

Leah's eyes lit with excitement and she bounced, remembering her news. With a swish of her blond ponytail, she gave them both a devious smirk. 

 

"Guess who I just saw?"

 

"Who," the couple asked in unison, Matt's fingers trailing the length of her arm. Amy shivered, although not exactly in pleasure. 

 

"The new drama teacher. And, like I said before, 'Ohmygod'," she squealed. Amy rolled her eyes and Matt winked at Leah. 

 

"Good use of vocabulary," he joked, a teasing smile on his lips, "You might just floor him with your extensive use of the word 'Ohmygod'."

 

Amy snorted, before she could stop herself, and Leah looked at him before shaking her head and continuing. 

 

"Anyways, I think he might just be the hottest teacher since Mr. Bell."

 

Amy crinkled her nose like she smelled something bad. "Mr. Bell had a beer gut and had coffee-stained teeth."

 

Leah just rolled her eyes. "He had pretty eyes though, and he always ate the apple I gave him before class. But anyways, Mr. Brighton is hot. Like third-degree burn kinda hot. He can keep me after class anytime."

 

Amy dismissed what she heard, until the name connected with a face. Brighton... Mr. Brighton... as in... Darin? Not knowing whether to get sick or call him in that moment and demand to know what was going on, she asked, "Brighton?"

 

It sounded weak, like a mouse's squeak. 

 

"Yep," Leah nodded, twirling her hair around her finger and craning her neck before lighting up like a Christmas tree. "There he is! He starts Wednesday, I think," she said absentmindedly, not even noticing when Amy began to shake and her throat constricted like she had swallowed bleach.

 

Amy stared at Darin Brighton, Mr. Brighton, in utter horror, while Matt steadied her. Darin, the Darin she just made plans to get drinks with, stood in a sea of Aeropostale t-shirts and Miss Me jeans and letterman jackets, wearing a pair of charcoal pants and a white button-down that Amy could of sworn she had seen lying on his floor along with the mess of her ugly blue dress. Amy felt like she was going to be sick.

 

"Hey, are you okay," Matt asked, tucking a wild strand of red hair behind her ear. Amy shook her head. 

 

"I-I'll be fine. It was nothing. Cramps," she babbled, before glancing down the hall once again. This time, Darin looked up. Right up, at her, out of everyone in the sea of cherleading skirts and high heels and diamond earrings. Recognition crossed his face, before Amy bolted down the hall and into the nearest restroom. She needed to escape. Now.

 ~~~

 

The final bell rang, announcing freedom to the caged high school zoo, and kids filed out of the front doors, streaming onto the sidewalk. Kingsley Abrahams stood like a rock in a stream of salmon flying upstream, people swerving out of his way like he had some plague. A few people snickered at him, at his handiwork, and he stood to admire it too. Eric Sander's red 2002 Mercedes Benz was now looking like a ball of tin, the red body bent like a disfigured doll. 

 

 A few kids oohed, and some of the football players began laughing. Up until Eric parted the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea, and his jaw dropped to the toes of his sneakers. His eyes flickered from his car, to the baseball bat resting on the asphalt, to the smirk on Kingsley's face. 

 

Kingsley felt a rush ripple through him, through his veins. It was better than any drug he had used before; the sweet taste on his tongue was revenge and the smugness of knowing that he had created this beautiful mess. Eric's face was as red as a tomato; his fists clenched at his sides and his nostrils flared like an angry bull. 

 

It was still unclear of what happened between the two of them, but both held quite a solid grudge. Eric looked around the gathered crowd before his eyes settled on Kingsley, and a match was lit beneath him. He lunged at the dark-haired boy, who took it with grit teeth. They both fell to the ground with a thud, a tangle of limbs and fists and hard kicks. No one tried to break up the fight, if anything corralling them, a crowd gathering to watch this trapeze act sans the nets. 

 

Just as Eric had Kingsley on his back, a fist raised, a soft hand wrapped around his arm and kept him from swinging. He blinked, and jerked his arm away, turning to see that girl from the party, Saturday night. Amanda, he faintly remembered, right before she tore him from the dark-haired stoner beneath him.

 

"Break it up," she called, dropping Eric's arms and rushing over to Kingsley, who shot her a devilish grin despite the blood that had trickled from his lip. "God, what are you doing," she hissed to him, dragging him to his feet. 

 

Kingsley raised a brow, trying his best to look exasperated. "Me?! Panda, why, I'm innocent-"

 

"Bullshit," Eric hissed, glaring at the other boy, with a venom lacing his voice. Amanda's eyes flickered between the two before she sighed, taking Kingsley's arm. 

 

"Kingsley," Amanda said much more quietly, relieved that some of the crowd had dispersed and found their ways to their parked cars, "Kingsley, what did you do?"

 

He shrugged, and rolled his eyes like it was no big deal. "Panda, I told you, I didn't do anything. He started it; I am simply ending it."

 

"Yeah, with a new paint job and-"

 

"Shut up, both of you," Amanda hissed, eyeing the doors of the main entrance and wondering when a teacher would come and take them off her hands. Crossly, she eyed Kingsley, her lips curling into a snarl. Of course he would do something this stupid! She honeslty shouldn't have put it past him, despite how he could sometimes be manageable. 

 

"C'mon, let's get your lip looked at," she sighed, grabbing hold of Kingsley arm and leading him away. 

 

"That's it," Eric cried from behind her, "You're just going to walk off?! Have a girl fight for you?!"

 

Kingsley twitched, the slightest jerk of his shoulder, but Amanda held onto him tightly. She lead him like a dog on a leash, anger fueling her actions as she pushed the wide front doors open and marched through the thinning hallways. She paused momentarily, in front of the girl's restroom, before kicking the door open and leading Kingsley inside. 

 

"Getting it on in the girl's bathroom. Kinky, Panda," Kingsley chuckled, only recieving a glare in return. She steered him towards the sink, pressing his back against the sink. Instead of kissing him, though, she slapped him hard across the shoulder. He flinched, and stumbled, surprised by her anger. 

 

"Ouch," he hissed, cradeling his arm like an injured warrior and not some idiot whose just begging to be suspended. 

 

"God, you are stupid," she stressed, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser. Wetting it with cold water from the tap, she grabbed hold of his bloodied bottom lip. He winced, his brows furrowing in pain, as she pressed the freezing damp towel to his lip, which was staining the brown paper a deep scarlet. "Do you want to get kicked out?!"

 

"No," he mumbled, his words muffled by the paper, "but Panda-"

 

"I mean, seriously, Kingsley you're lucky Principal Tate wasn't