"...So how do we calculate linear acceleration...between points A and B?" Miss Hawkins pointed to the board. The teacher scanned the classroom until her eyes landed on... "Miss Hale?" The brunette looked up sharply when she heard her name. "You still with us?"
"Uh, uh, yeah, yeah," Gracie stammered, twirling her pencil between her fingers as she glanced at the problem. "Uh...mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine."
Just then the bell rang and everyone jumped up from their seats. Gracie gathered all her books, slowly making her way for the door. Next was shop. She hated shop. More specifically, she hated Mr. Callahan.
Keeping her head down, Gracie pushed open one of the double doors that led into school. As she walked through, people hurried out of her way, staring at the Hale girl. Brushing a hand through her hair as she tried to ignore all the attention, Grace headed for her locker when--
"Gracie, hi..." Lydia Martin and her friends blocked her way as she headed for her locker.
Gracie's jaw tightened. "Hi, Lydia."
"I love your necklace," the strawberry blonde complimented, referring to the necklace her mother gave her. It wasn't gold or a diamond, but it meant something to her.
"Thanks," Gracie gritted through her teeth.
"Where'd you get it?"
"I...don't know," Gracie shrugged. "I, um...I've had it a long time."
Lydia winced, leaning in. "I think I saw it at Discount Bonanza." She looked at her friends. "I had to pee. Anyway, you look adorbs...seriously."
Her and friends' laughs echoed through the hall as the final bell rung. Gracie turned, watching them as she let out a aggravated breath. "God..."
As she walked into class, she pushed the door open and it creaked. Everyone flipped back, staring at her. Gracie froze.
"Sorry, M-Mr. Callahan," Gracie stammered, standing in the doorway. She slowly walked towards her seat, resting down her bag and stood by her stool.
"Late again, Miss Hale," Callahan griped. "What was it this time?"
Gracie looked down as laughter filled the room. "It won't happen again, Mr. Callahan."
"I doubt that," he spat. "Just sit down." Gracie nodded weakly, slumping down as Callahan went back to praising someone's work. "It's very nice. This woodwork is exceptional."
"Thanks, Mr. C," Gracie heard that student say.
Staring ahead, her breath hitched. A certain boy with a buzz-cut, who she had been in love with since she was five, had sat in front of her all year. After years of never really paying much attention to her, he turned to her, his whiskey-colored eyes meeting her brown-hazel one's. "Hey..."
"Y-yeah?" She stuttered.
"Pro tip: always set your watch five minutes ahead," he whispered. "It saves my ass, like, every time."
"Thanks," she smiled, her voice coming out drawn out like she stuck in a trance. She stared at the back of his head as he turned back.
"Great work, Phil," Callahan kept going, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. "Once again, setting the class standard. Next up is..." He glanced at his clipboard. "...oh, Gracie Hale."
Gracie's head shot upright. Her eyes widened as her face went white as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Time to present your doghouse," he told her. Gracie was screaming on the inside. This was worse than the cliche showing-up-to-your-class-naked dream.
"Uhm..." Gracie breathed, starting to sweat bullets. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "...my presentation isn't scheduled till next week."
"This isn't debate class."
"But you said I could present on Monday. It's not ready yet, Mr. Callahan."
"Once again, Miss Hale is holding up the class," Callahan walked towards her, his binder in his hand as he stopped right in front of her, towering over her. "And once again, Miss Hale is unprepared."
He slammed his binder down as a loud bang echoed in the class. Gracie flinched, her eyes were wet as she tried not to cry.
"Can I just do it Monday?" She asked, her voice almost inaudible as it came out like a whisper.
"Speak up," Callahan hissed. Gracie's face scrunched, tilting downwards as a stray tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, a crocodile tear doesn't excuse your poor planning, Miss Hale. It better be done by Monday or I'll have no problem holding you back for next semester."
By the time the bell rang, Gracie was the first person out of class. Ignoring the dirty looks and whispers thrown her way, she made her way to third period. The brown-haired girl stood in the class as the final bell rang.
As the seats filled up, her eyes scanned the room, trying to find the open seats. Seeing as she got there just in time, a lot of the seats were taken. One was in front of a guy who was seeing how long his chewing gum would last before it snapped.
Gracie shook her head, knowing that would be a disaster waiting to happen. The next one was none of than Stiles Stilinski, who had sat down beside his best friend, Scott McCall.
Not needing much time to know it was the best option, she dropped her bag down, slumping down in the seat and trying her best to hide her grin since she had never been this lucky before.
Walking in and placing his bag down on the desk, their teacher started writing down "Kafka's Metamorphosis'" on the chalkboard.
"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night," he told his students, and Stiles and Scott shared a knowing grin. "And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the packets on your desk. We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis'."
Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them and the classroom door opened as the Vice-Principal walked in with a teenage girl, who Gracie couldn't place. She must have been new, which was weird since not many new students transferred in during the middle of the year.
From what Gracie could see, the girl looked very nervous, looking down as she fiddled with the ends of her scarf as she was introduced to her new class. "Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."
Allison gave them a small, polite wave before the teacher pointed out the only empty seat left, which was behind Scott. When class was finally over, Gracie headed to her locker when she heard grating voice only a few feet from her.
"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?" Lydia Martin said, standing a few lockers down from the Hale girl. Gracie watched the strawberry blonde with the new girl, and rolled her eyes.
Feeling slightly put on the spot, Allison hesitated for a second but then nodded. "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."
"And you are our new best friend," Lydia grinned. She spun back when she felt someone snake an arm around her waist. "Hey, babe."
As the two leaned forward to kiss, across the narrow hall, Scott and Stiles were watching the clique, only ten feet from the Hale girl.
"Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" A girl standing beside them asked, catching Gracie's attention since they stood only ten feet away from her.
"Because she's hot," Stiles said simply, his attention more focused on Lydia than Allison. "Beautiful people herd together."
Gracie rolled her eyes, slamming her locker shut. The sound of metal clinking echoed through the hall, and everyone stared, watching the Hale girl walk away.
By the time she got there, most of the lacrosse players had already ran out into the field. As she took her seat on the bleachers, Stiles was basically trying to convince Scott to not tryout for the first line.
"But if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench. Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?"
"I can't sit out again," Scott sighed. "My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line."
"McCall!" Coach Finstock shouted.
"Yeah?"
"You're on goal," Coach told him, tossing a mask and lacrosse stick at the player.
"I've never played," Scott was caught off guard.
"I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first day back thing. Get 'em energized, fired up!"
"What about me?"
"Try not to take any in the face," his coach advised unhelpfully, giving his cheek a light slap. "Let's go! Come on!"
As soon as Coach blew his whistle when everyone was ready, a player threw a ball at Scott, which he was supposed to catch, but instead it hit him right in the face and ricocheted into the net.
"Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!" Jackson taunted as the team and even the coach laughed. Even though she didn't even know him, Gracie winced, cringing at the secondhand embarrassment she felt. She covered her face not wanting to look. But it was like a car wreckage -- you really wanted to look away but you also wanted to see what happened next.
Gracie bit her lip as she watched the next player chuck another ball at Scott, and with almost invisible-to-the-eye speed he slid his stick to the side, catching the ball with ease.
The players and Coach looked at him in confusion. Sure, Scott may have made the team, but he was still one of their worst players. He barely made it past tryouts by the skin of his teeth every year.
When the next player took another shot, Scott caught the ball again. With every throw, Scott moved side to side, catching every ball thrown at him.
As everyone else stared at Scott in confusion and mostly awe, Jackson, who happened to be the team's best player, push through the line until he made it to the front. Scott's smile faded. "Oh, God."
"Game over," Gracie mumbled as she watched Jackson, lean forward to a runner's position with a stick in his hand.
In what felt like slow motion, Jackson slowly ran towards him, glaring at him, with his grip strangling the lacrosse stick. As he flew across the field with determination, he chucked a ball at Scott. Like before, with impossible ease, he immediately swung his stick over and caught it.
Gracie's jaw fell, clapping as she gave the McCall boy a bewildered look.