Chapter 8 Thank God I’m not Homeschooled (2)

“But back to the matter at hand—”

Stephanie leaned in, sniffing the air around me. "Even food can't mask the weed smell on you."

She backed away, grimacing as if to say, "That reeks."

"Is it really that noticeable?"

"I'm just really sensitive to smells."

"Oh! I get it!" Stephanie clapped her hands together in excitement. "Maybe he smelled the weed on your clothes and thought you were spiraling!"

"And then—thought he could be the hero to save you, aiming for the 'Teacher of the Year' award."

"Alright." I raised an eyebrow. "Your bias against Taylor is a bit much."

"I can't help it. Do you know how annoying it is to have someone always focus on your flaws?"

"Oh, right, I almost forgot about this!" Suddenly, Stephanie's "gossip radar" must have detected something "spectacular."

"There's a boy who's been watching you."

"What? What are you talking about?"

I laughed, not taking her seriously.

"Hey! I'm serious. He's been staring at you since you were in line!"

"So, you're saying he could pick me out from a crowd?"

I didn't take it too seriously. The last guy Stephanie said was interested in me turned out to be after my limited edition "Star Trek" collectible cards. He ended up threatening to spread rumors about us if I didn't hand them over.

Of course, I never told anyone about it, including Brooklyn. I felt ashamed, as if I were nailed to a "pillar of shame," ready to be burnt at the stake. So, I've always maintained a distance from guys who seemed "interested" but whom I knew nothing about.

"He's sitting to your left, near the window—"

Stephanie whispered so low I could barely hear her.

My curiosity won over, wanting to know who this person was—

I sneaked a peek in the direction Stephanie mentioned.

"Okay...he seems kind of cute?"

I didn't even realize I'd said that out loud.

"Oh-My-God!" Stephanie couldn't contain her amusement. "You should see the look on your face when you said that. I have a mirror in my bag."

"You knew what he looked like already, didn't you?"

"Of course, looks are the first checkpoint. How could I not notice?"

"Honestly, what do you think?"

"He's not my type."

"Too bad, I don't know much about him, but his name is Ezra Goodwell. A loner. That's all I've managed to find out."

"How do you know?"

"Rumors are everywhere; you just need to sit and listen."

"Anyway, he's the kind that sits in a corner at parties, unnoticed."

"Like a wallflower."

"Exactly."

"He looks normal, not like a freak."

"Maybe."

"I suggest we observe him for a while before making any judgments."

"Mm-hmm."

We fell silent for a bit, finishing our meals.

"Oh! I almost forgot the most important thing."

Stephanie said with her mouth full, making it hard to understand.

"Kyle is going to Will's party tonight!"

She chewed faster, swallowing a lettuce leaf in one gulp.

"A 'vintage boy' who never joins in social activities decides to go to a party for a girl. Sounds too romantic, doesn't it?"

"Oh, and don't ever say I called him 'vintage boy'; he'd kill me."

Stephanie made a throat-slashing gesture.

"I won't mention it."

I promised.

"Thanks, Scarlett. You've saved me. Otherwise, he'd make me reread the script, mastering every detail."

Kyle and Stephanie were both in the drama club. I remember mustering the courage to audition for Elinor in "Sense and Sensibility," only to be ruthlessly rejected. Then, coincidentally, I met Stephanie Watson in literature class—a girl who, apart from literature, couldn't sign up for any other class—loved acting but only memorized scripts she was interested in.

I'll admit, at first, I just wanted to use her to get closer to Kyle.

But over time, I came to appreciate Stephanie's naturally lively character; she was approachable, occasionally quirky and mischievous.

Even though getting close to her gave me more opportunities to meet Kyle, things didn't go as I had hoped. Instead, Skylerfound out and mocked me for a while.

"Do you still like him?"

"Of course not."

Stephanie's sudden question almost made me choke on my granola.

"I'm just...I didn't want to hurt your feelings, Scarlett."

"I'm...I'm fine, I've moved on. It's not a big deal."

I think every girl needs to understand a simple truth—not everyone you like will like you back. That's the harsh reality of life. I'm not an exception; I'm one of the many girls tormented by unrequited love. But I harbored the hope that one day he would see my worth and regret his previous indifference.

"You know, Stephanie? It's funny, when you told me he was in love, I thought, 'Really, can a Greek statue feel anything?'"

"That's not an exaggeration, Scarlett. Even with his refined looks and deep, captivating features, he's just a 'heartless machine,' a cold statue found anywhere in the library."

When we decide to hate someone, we mock them, isn't it funny?

"Anyway, I need to be at that party. I promised Brooklyn."

"And Skyler, but I'd rather not mention his name."

"Skyler."

Stephanie repeated his name with a sarcastic tone.

"When will he change, stop looking for girlfriends among cheerleaders? He must love their bitchy faces."

"I don't understand why girls want to join the cheer squad. I mean, do they really enjoy being objectified? Short skirts, big chests, and Barbie doll faces?"

"Oh, that's a harsh standard. I might not even pass the first round."

"Hey, what's up?"

I mocked myself.

"I am invited to ‘The Mean Girls Party’."

"Brooklyn wants me to try out for the cheerleading squad."

"What? Oh my god, Brooklyn actually did that?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

I consoled myself, finishing the last spoonful of yogurt.

"Penelope will 'destroy' you."

"Oh god, hasn't she done enough?"

"Cheerleading is like the high school version of a sorority. Nothing's scarier than women in groups. You need to be strong, Scarlett."

"I think I know that all too well."