Page 1 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
One
I carry my books along the hallway on Monday afternoon, thankful for the last bell. It’s not that I dislike school. I dislike how many people they cram into one building. My favorite part of the school day is when I can hide in the library and escape into the latest short story I’m writing. The times I’m forced to walk alongside the masses, I wall-hug. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten pretty dang good at becoming invisible.
“Hey, how was your last class?” my best friend Kylie asks when we meet at our lockers.
“Piece of cake,” I reply. “I’m already ahead in my reading.”
Kylie smirks. “AKA, you’ve already written your history assignment?”
I shrug, pulling my backpack from my locker. “If a subject involves reading and writing, it comes easy to me. Math and science, that’s where things come undone.”
I already have so many check marks against my English, history,and social studies classes. It makes breathing a little easier.
“And that’s why we’re such a good team,” Kylie says, hooking an arm behind my neck. “We have such nice skills to trade off.”
“Hey, ready to go?” Parker, Kylie’s boyfriend, calls out to her.
Kylie nods ahead. “Want me to ask Parker to drive you home?”
“No, I’m cool. I’ll take the bus.”
“It’s no problem,” she insists.
I give her a hug and hoist my backpack over my shoulder. “No, it’s fine. You’ve been buzzing about your date since first period. I won’t cramp your style.”
Kylie clicks her tongue. “You never do that.”
I give her a bright smile. “Go. Have fun.”
She waves me off and moves across the hall to Parker.
I dawdle behind some seniors as I make my way out of the school building. Two cliques pace on either side of me, babbling about the latest gossip. As the crowd funnels toward the front doors, my pulse runs high as oxygen is squeezed out of the packed space. I close my eyes tight, hug my waist, and force my feet forward. When sunlight hits my face, I open my eyes and gasp for air.
A girl to my left gives me a strange look, but I shake it off and keep moving toward the bus stop. As I wait for my bus, I spy Kylie and Parker moving into the student parking lot. Parker is talking with two of his friends. Their movements are casual and effortless. I seriously don’t understand how anyone can get through those hallways without some kind of mini panic attack.
But maybe I’m the weirdo.
I’m glad Kylie has found some confidence since being with Parker. She’s happier and livelier now, hanging out with him and his friends. Now, when I’m hiding out and creating a new story, I also have free time to fantasize about being with the guy that got away.
The bus arrives and I find a seat near the front. I do my best to avoidthe middle and the back. The middle is where any object can become a projectile, and the back is gossip town. The amount of mornings I’ve spent on the bus, listening to the newest hookup or breakup news, irks me to my core. Since my middle school sweetheart became headline news for gossip websites, I have zero tolerance for rumors.
I get off the bus and into my house about ten minutes before my mother drops the twins home. Casey and Callum are ten-year-old handfuls. Well, Callum is sweet as pie, but can be easily led by Casey, who is the reason they got banned from the school bus. Casey is on a conspiracy theory kick at the moment, and she likened everyone onboard the bus to sheep being driven to a meat factory. Needless to say she freaked everyone out, and our parents agreed to an indefinite pause on the twins taking the bus.
Now, it’s my job to ensure they do their homework and wash up before Mom comes back from work. If my parents didn’t have me, Mom would have to switch to part-time hours. She already panics about the thirty minutes she needs to make up for pickup. If only I had learned to drive, I could help out a little more. But I’m already an anxiety-riddled mess walking side by side with other students. I couldn’t imagine getting behind the wheel of a car and being part of crowded traffic.
Nuh-uh.
No, thank you.
Dad already works such long hours, he’s usually home well after dinner. Money always causes such deep wrinkles in my parents’ faces. Anything I can do to relieve their stress, I’ll do. Even if it means playing third parent to my younger brother and sister.
By the time Mom gets home, I’ve prepared dinner. The relief and gratitude on her face raises my spirits, and I leave it up to her to pry the twins away from their video game.
With a moment to myself, and all my homework up to date, I give in to the nagging voice inside my head. I unlock my phone and checkwhat they’re saying online. My stomach knots just thinking about it.
Wyatt Hayes.
Suspected brain injury.
