Secretly In Love With My Highschool Bully

How Dare He!?

It’s our first year of high school, and our parents have decided that Ryan and I are going to attend the same school: Saber Hills International High, or SHIH for short. Now, sharing a school with my childhood best friend wouldn’t normally be a problem—not when said best friend suddenly seems to have a problem with me.

Ryan has been acting weird lately, and I’ve tried chalking it up to nerves about starting high school, but it’s becoming too much.

For example, yesterday I went over to his house to tell him we were heading to the nook since we usually go there together, only for Mrs. Montague to tell me he wasn’t around—which I know for a fact was a huge lie because his bicycle was parked right by the door. And to top it all off, I caught him peeking out the window while I rode back home.

The fact that incidents like this have been happening for a while now has made me suspicious, and this latest one simply cements the fact that something is definitely wrong somewhere.

“Gav baby, you good?” Mom asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I had come to help her in the kitchen, but it seems all I’ve been doing since I arrived is zoning out.

I startle before looking at her, slightly disoriented.

“Yeah, I am. Just a little nervous about school tomorrow,” I tell her.

I can immediately tell she doesn’t believe me one bit, but she chooses to let it go. My mom is the best human on the planet, but sometimes I wish she’d pry a little more into my life.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” I ask.

“Sure, hon. What’s up?” she says, turning away from the stove to give me her full attention.

“What would make you avoid Aunt Elise?” I ask, staring down at the potatoes I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to dice.

“It depends on the situation, baby. For example, if I were hiding a huge secret from her, I’d probably avoid her if I knew the secret might hurt her. Or maybe if I wanted to surprise her.” She pauses. “What’s this about, hon?”

“Nothing. Never mind,” I mumble.

“Did you have a fight with Ryan?” she asks.

“Us? Fight? No. Nope. Nothing like that at all,” I ramble quickly. “Just asking for a friend,” I add when she still doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, if you say so,” she replies, giving me her mom look.

“I’m gonna go to my room,” I announce, practically making a run for it when she keeps staring at me.

She has what I call the Mom Eyes. Kind of like Carlos from 9-1-1: Lone Star and his famous cow eyes. Mom won’t pry, but the second she gives you that look, you fold and spill everything—and I am definitely not trying to spill anything right now.

I rush upstairs and into my room.

My room is my comfort zone. It has the world’s softest pillows, deep blue walls, and a ceiling painted to look like the sky. Of course, the walls are also covered with posters of my favorite actors.

I slump onto my couch and pick up my phone to check whether Ryan has finally decided to text me back, but there’s nothing.

Instead, I find a message from Cecily, a friend I met online who somehow turned into my sister in every way that matters. She’s a quirky brunette with striking brown eyes that she always hides behind glasses. Cecily is tiny, yet somehow bursting with endless energy. Sometimes I genuinely wonder where she gets all that hyperness from when she’s so small.

We love the same food, the same series, and the same books. To top it all off, we’re going to the same high school. We met briefly over the summer, and it was honestly the best time ever because all we did was gush over our favorite things and read together.

“Hey babes, you good?” she texts.

“Yeah, I am,” I reply. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.”

That message alone nearly makes me cry because the truth is, I’m really not okay. But there’s nothing to be done about it. I can’t keep burdening her with my problems.

“I’m fine, luv. Don’t worry,” I text back. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the D-Day, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. If you say so. But just know I’m prying it out of you tomorrow,” she replies.

I roll my eyes fondly.

“Nyt nyt, twinnie,” I text before switching off my phone.

When Mom calls me downstairs about an hour later, I don’t go. I just yell back that I’m not hungry.

I eventually fall asleep with anticipation rolling restlessly beneath my skin.