Free Blind Spot by Laura Ellen Page B

directions.
    “Trouble in paradise?” Tricia said.
    “No!” I snapped. “He’s just late.”
    “Or off playing with his new toy.”
    “Shouldn’t you be shooting whipped cream somewhere right now?”
    “And miss this? Not a chance.”
    “There is no
this.
I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.”
    “Girls.” Mr. Dellian motioned into the room with his head.
    Tricia leaned forward after he’d gone back inside. “Boyfriend? I saw him at Ethan’s Saturday, all wrapped up with his new doll—he’s done playing with you.” Tricia smiled her wicked smile and turned away.
    I yanked her backwards by the hood of her cloak. “What are you talking about?”
    “Watch it!” She examined her hood for a second, and then gave me an exaggerated look of sympathy. “Oh, you thought he really
liked
you? You were the payoff in my drug deal. Nothing more.”
    “You’re sick.”
    “Am I? I had no money, remember? He took you as collateral. But I’ve got my own payment plan now. Your services are no longer required.”
    I hated her. “You self-absorbed witch. This has nothing to do with you.”
    “I thought there was no ‘this’?”
    “He asked me out.” I seethed. “We were dating.
Are
dating.” My voice got louder, angrier. “He’s mad because I couldn’t go out Saturday. Would he have got mad if I was just your—your—”
    “Crack whore?” Tricia offered.
    “Screw you,” I said, and left Tricia laughing in the hallway.
     
    I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not even the chocolate éclairs Ruth had brought. I was too consumed by anger. And panic. What if he really had hooked up with someone else at Ethan’s party?
    I tried to find him after class.
    Again before third and fourth.
    Left messages. Texts.
    At lunch, I ran outside to the seniors’ parking lot. I got there just in time to see a brown blur getting into a shiny red blob a few yards away. The loud engine and boom of the base as it sped out of the school lot sent jealous waves through me. Tricia? What the hell was he doing with Tricia? I ripped out my phone as I came back inside.
    “Hi,” Greg said, walking up. “I’m still working on your notes. Tomorrow okay?”
    “Fine,” I mumbled. I called Jonathan. He wouldn’t answer. Why wouldn’t he answer? Where were they going? I turned back to the door and stared out the window.
    “You waiting for someone?” Greg asked.
    “No, just—” I turned around and headed to the cafeteria. I needed to talk to Heather. Maybe she’d seen something at Ethan’s party. Heard something.
    Heather wasn’t there yet. I sat down at our table to wait.
    “I wrote my paper for Dellian.” Greg sat next to me. “The extra-credit one? Could you look it over?” He held it out to me. “Hope the font is large enough for you.”
    He had nothing to do with my foul mood. But I was angry and frustrated and he was there, annoying me with petty things like notes and extra-credit papers—and the large-font comment put me over the top. I ripped a red pen from my purse and raged through his paper, slashing words at random, then threw it back at him.
    “What is this?” Greg cried. “Why did you mark all over my paper?”
    “Because it’s wrong!”
    He rubbed at the red markings with his eraser, but couldn’t remove them. I don’t use erasable ink. “You didn’t even read it! How do you know it’s wrong?”
    “Because you’re wrong!” Tears sprang to my eyes.
    Greg stared at me. “About what?”
    I turned away from him.
    He leaned forward. “Look at me,” he whispered. When I wouldn’t, he stretched his body across the table until his face was directly in front of mine. “What’s wrong, Roz? Why are you upset with me?”
    On the other side of the room I heard Missy laughing with her cronies. Her cackle made me realize Greg was not the enemy. “It’s not you.” I swiped at a tear before it could escape my eyelid. “Sorry about your paper.” I focused my eyes on the renegade curl that had fallen