Conner proudly raises his art book and replies, “Noya drawing her reality.”
“Mr Rogers told us to draw something around the school,” Andy spits.
“I did.” Conner leans across, the musky scent of his cologne overpowering my senses. “I’m surprised you didn’t think of it first, Andy. Or was your dealer’s house more important than Noya?”
Andy rises abruptly. I flinch and raise my hands over my head. Instinctively, I move towards safety. It’s what I did whenever Dad raised his hand. I’d cover and turn towards my room.
My haven.
“Okay!” Mr Rogers barks. “Put our dicks in your pants and get to work.”
A few students snigger at Mr Rogers’ words. If anyone took him seriously, they would fire him. It’s lucky most studentslive for whenever he remarks that, deeming him the hilarious teacher at our school.
Andy storms out of the room before anyone else does when the bell rings.
I sigh as I realise Conner and Andy will never be friends. Perhaps I need to talk to Andy about the reason he doesn’t like Conner so much. I thought we were being civil—or is the civil agreement stretched only to me and no one else?
I’m not sure anymore.
“So,” Conner begins when we leave the class, “why were you in Creative Arts?”
“The nurse said I was fine.”
“Did she say that, or did you convince her you were fine because you didn’t want to go home?” I glare at the steps as we walk down them to the first floor of Block A. “You could have texted me. I’m down with skipping another day.”
“Grades are important,” I say, my hands tightening on the straps of the bag. “You can be something more when you have higher scores. I’d never want to be the reason your grades slip. I would hate myself if that were to happen.”
Conner tilts his head to the side and eyes me. “Grades are important to you, aren’t they?”
I nod once, firmly.
He looks away and looks behind me. “What’s this?” Conner reaches into my bag and plucks the flyer out that Samantha was working on in English. “Oh, the talent show. Three weeks from now. Did you want to go?”
“Sorry?”
“Friday night. Five till nine.” He waves the flyer in front of my face. “It could be a date.”
“I’m working,” I say.
“No, you aren’t. I saw the roster.” Conner chuckles darkly. “You can’t fool me.”
I frown. “Maybe you should be Granick. You act like him more than your character.”
“Well, I always wanted to go rogue,” Conner muses.
I huff a breathy laugh.
“So, will you be my date, Noya?”
I eye the flyer. I’ve never been to any of the school functions. They never appealed to me. I had other things on my mind: working, studying, and fixing my broken home. Besides, if I went, I’d be alone in the crowd and watching performances by people I didn’t know, but going with Conner might be different.
“Okay.”
Conner folds the flyer and places it in his bag. “It’s a date.”
I chew the inside of my cheek as the heat gets the best of me. Conner knows, for his smile broadens.
Andy is nowhere to be seen when we approach the back of the building. Dylan is with Wylan, and Samantha is close to the corner we round, as if she waiting for us. Her brown eyes crinkle as she skips towards us. “Noya, when Conner swooped you up in his arms, you dropped your bag, and the permission slip for the camping trip fell out, so…” She curls her lips in, as if mustering up the strength to tell me something. “I forged your parents’ signatures and handed the permission slip to Miss Moore.”