Page 49 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

Oh well, in the meantime I’d take Gio’s ignoring tactics as a win, and not worry about the ‘you’ll find out Friday’ threat. Whatever that meant. That was Friday Me’s problem.

Besides, I had other things to worry about today.

“Hi Nova.”

My eyes narrowed on yet another smiling face.

Weird didn’t even begin to describe the atmosphere when I walked down the hall. Not only did everyone suddenly know my name, but they were happy to see me. What kind of crap was that? I was really starting to miss the gunshot sounding backfire my truck used to make.

Two girls invaded my personal bubble while I was walking across the parking lot. Then three more insisted on walking with Memphis and I to homeroom. One of whom kept talking to me in class like I was her friend or something.

I didn’t have friends.

Well, there was Memphis, but he was more like a brother. A friend wouldn’t put up with me for as long as he did. To be fair, I put up with him too. I even saw him through his bubble gum pink phase.

Trust me, that took patience. Like it or not Memphis and I were stuck with each other. That was cemented after our first sleepover when we both peed the bed. There was no going back from that.

I turned the corner and immediately wanted to run in the other direction.

“Hey Nova, wait up.” A blonde down the hall, swished her hand excitedly through the air.

Ugh. She was lucky I was hungry and had to go past her to get to my next class. Home Economics always guaranteed a snack. Why else would anyone sign up for it? To learn how to sew. Pfft, I had Maw Maw for that.

“Oh my God,” she rushed up to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so glad I ran into you.”

Why was this person touching me?

“That makes one of us.” Trust me, I was not happy to see her, whoever she was.

The girl let out an annoying fake giggle that kind of made me wonder if she was real. She looked like a doll, with her make-up and hair all perfect. If I poked her would her skin be plastic?

“You’re so funny.”

No I wasn’t.

“It’s so refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t serious all the time, and you have to tell me who does your hair.”

Who?“It’s called a brush.”

I found it under the bed this morning. There were advantages to tripping over one’s own two feet.

She giggled again, “You are too much.”

Then why was she still talking to me?

“Your shoes don’t match that outfit.” I don’t think anything really matched these uniforms, nor did I have any fashion sense whatsoever, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. And she seemed like the kind of person who would care.

“I know, these pumps are so last year.” She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking about getting these cute little beige ones I saw at Hannagan’s.”

Why did that sound like a question? And why was she asking me? I had different colored laces in my runners, which by the way were neon green. And not brand name. Did she not see me standing here?

I looked down at my shoes and back up at her. “Are you blind?”

Thankfully she didn’t laugh at that, she just gave me a weird look. Considering the pink manicure on her nails and faded green marker on mine, I thought it was a valid question.

“No? Why? Do I have something in my teeth or something?”

That seemed to really bother her. She even lifted her hand up to cover her mouth, which was just as perfect as the rest of her. But, I was never one to waste an opportunity.

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