THE WRONG KIND OF TROUBLE

Chapter13

The school bell rang. Instantly, the hallways transformed into a rush-hour highway, where students of every size, vibe, and color weaved through one another as they scrambled to their first class.

Some sprinted up the stairs, others squeezed through random shortcuts down the hall. As I was walking, I spotted a blonde girl, with slightly bigger body proportions, who accidentally bumped into another girl. The other girl happened to be wearing skyscraper heels, a purple crop top, and a white tennis skirt so short that one could basically see her buttcheeks. Her hair was braided to the side like Elsa from Frozen.

Jennifer.

Behind her was her devil-sidekick, Paula, arms crossed and chewing gum like it owed her money.

The bigger girl fell to the floor, her books splattering everywhere. She scrambled to pick them up with trembling hands. Jennifer and Paula were definitely throwing insults by the looks on their faces, but they were too far for me to eavesdro—err, I mean hear.

The bell rang a second time, and it was time for me to increase my pace since classes were about to start.

As I climbed the stairs, Liz caught up with me, and walking beside her was Wes.

Wes looked… different today. Actually, he always looked different, but not in a bad way. More like he woke up every day and unintentionally invented a new aesthetic.

But today? Today was on another level.

It seemed he had a new haircut. His bangs had been cut to a straight fringe; the rest was an undercut.

“Wes,” I gasped. “You dyed your hair—”

“Green. I know. Don’t ask.” He cut me off, gripping his backpack strap tighter and ducking his head as people stared like he was a walking traffic light.

Liz snorted. “I had the same reaction.”

Wes shot her a death glare.

“The box said blonde, okay?!” he blurted, stressing the okay. “My sister swapped the boxes for her stupid YouTube prank.”

Liz and I laughed.

“I can’t believe she sold me out for views,” Wes muttered, kicking the air. I patted his shoulder, but I couldn't erase the amusement on my face. We continued walking to class.

I rolled my eyes to a direction and it landed on a couple locking lips and exchanging saliva with their mouths. I made a gagging gesture,poking my tongue out while mumbling 'Yuck'.

We reached the second floor, home of the Sophomore classrooms, when a voice echoed:

"Nice hair Grinch,!" A series of laughter followed. It was very much obvious they were referring to Wes. Liz giggled a little, ignoring another set of Wes' murderous glare.

Wes slouched his back in shame as he adjusted his bag's shoulder strap for the second time. I patted him on the shoulder lightly, showing off my genuine smile of comfort.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll last," I cheered him up.

"You can always dye your hair back to black again." Liz suggested too.

Another insult exploded through our ears as we turned to the left-side pathway down the halls. Followed by another and then another; mostly The Grinch puns, a couple of booger and barf metaphors here and there.

"Stop stealing Christmas dude," laughed one guy who approached us.

Wes stopped walking and stomped one foot with complete rage. His hands were stiffly clutched to his sides.

"I DO NOT LOOK LIKE THE GRINCH!!" Wes had snapped. Just in time, too. The door for Wes' Values Education class was right beside us. Wes peered in through the doorway, and we followed after, my head peeking above Wes, and Liz peeking above my head.

We got back to normal postures as a guy from Wes' class slowly entered while glancing at us with confusion.

Liz placed a hand on top of Wes' shoulder, tentatively coughed, and firmly said, "Good luck Wes." He just rolled his eyes and shooed us away. I waved my hand for a farewell while Liz could still not hold in her laughter. We headed off to our class immediately as soon as we heard the third school bell ring.

We've managed to make it just in time. The room was as noisy as the public market from across town. The boys were gathered in one corner, probably watching p**n or something vulgar; five girls were on the right side of the room, squealing while looking at their phones, while the rest were busy with their conversations.

I placed my things on my desk right next to Liz's, and we waited for Mr.Wallace, our math teacher, to arrive. We basically just talked about Wes' new hair, and other random topics either of us can think of.

Finally, Mr. Wallace walked in.

“Settle down, kids. Jesus. What are you, toddlers?” He ran a hand through his neat black hair and stood behind his desk, hands on hips.

We scrambled to our seats. He sighed and wrote on the board:

26(a – 9b) / 3b + 5

“Alright. Review time. Who wants to answer this?” He scanned the room like a predator hunting the weakest prey.

I swallowed hard. Math and I had a long, mutual hatred. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not stupid. However, I'm not exactly at an Einstein level when it comes to numbers and problem-solving.

I swallowed my tongue, as much as possible avoiding to bob my head down. I hate math cause I'm not good at it. But, I do know that Mr. Wallace has that tendency to call out those who he sees are not confident. This man can smell Math-fear and he likes it.

He called out Tim who was so sweating real hard. I exhaled in relief, hoping noone noticed then stuck to the board. However, for some reason, I kinda liked watching Tim solving the equation. My curiosity struck on where he got the 3b answer. It looked fascinating, in a complicated way.

Tim glanced at the class for help, but Mr. Wallace’s death-ray stare made sure no one dared.

Then—salvation.

A loud screech from the hallway made half the class jump. Girls immediately erupted into squeals. You'd think One Direction was the one who burst into our classroom, but no.

A guy wearing black, ripped sleeve tee with a chiller-fonted Metal word imprinted on it, stood by our class doorway. He leaned his shoulder on the doorway wall, with arms crossed together on his chest.

The girls lost their minds.

I whispered, looking at Liz, “Cameron…” she uttered the same words silently.

Mr. Wallace massaged his temples in frustration. Noise was his mortal enemy.

“What are you doing here, Huggins?” he asked.

“Oh, just passing by. Wanted to say hi.” he smirked. How I wanted to rip those grinning lips of his and feed it to the goats.

He then looked at me with the usual cheeky grin on his face, as he waved his hand. The girls squealed again. Mr. Wallace almost burst a vein.

“Cameron, please,” he said, voice calm but dying inside. “Go back to your class.”

Cameron sniggered and leaned in further.

“Not until I get a little chat with Ms. Reyes.”

Huh? What? Me?