A few days had passed since my run-in with 'the jock.' But today was a win—I'd just aced my History of the Ancients test. Expected? Yes. Still satisfying? Definitely. I reached my locker, sorting my books with a satisfied grin. And then she showed up.
She was Ailey Dasha Anderson, so everyone called her Ada, everyone except me. To me, she was Wailey (W. Ailey, with the W meaning weird).
Wailey was the only person in school who actually bothered to talk to me, but trust me, it wasn't flattering or anything. She basically talked to everyone. The social anomaly everyone had to like: friendly, smart, and, most importantly, rich. And by rich, I mean obscenely, parentally rich. It wasn't that she broke social boundaries; she didn't even register they were supposed to exist. As if trying to show off her privilege, she drove a Zenvo ST1. She'd ignore every social rule, seeing no reason why she shouldn't talk to anyone she wanted to talk to. This made her both baffling and, frankly, a walking invitation for trouble.
This is why I called her Wailey—this and the fact that she was just plain weird. People have tried telling her she shouldn't hang out with just anyone. But no one would dare call her weird (well, no one but me), because everyone was either too scared of her family's money or too eager to get on her good side.
"Hi!" Wailey exclaimed with a level of enthusiasm only she could pull off.
I looked over at her and did a double-take, needing a second to register the absurdity in front of me. The outfit was a glitter horror show—an orange neon top that screamed "safety hazard" and a lemon-yellow skirt so bright it should've come with sunglasses and a sour taste. Her hair had sparkly accessories on it, glittering as the lights hit them, making it physically painful to look her way. Her makeup was the only slightly normal thing, but she'd drenched herself in cherry perfume, so she also smelt like a fruit salad. The entire ensemble was... well, for lack of better words, "blinding."
"You look like a fruit," I muttered, squinting at her, half expecting her to peel herself open.
Her smile unphased as she batted her sparkly eyelids and chirped in her usual, gratingly sweet voice, "Aww. Thanks! I didn't think I could pull it off. That's exactly what I was going for! Don't you just love fruits? Beautiful right?"
As I stared in disbelief. She looked at me, swaying her skirt side to side, then finally asked, "So, what have you been up to lately?"
I didn't answer straightforwardly, trying not to say anything I'd regret later. I sighed, answering with a dry, "What could a person like me possibly be up to?" She just waited, eyebrows raised slightly, not getting the hint. I sighed again and muttered, "Nothing," which, thankfully, seemed to satisfy her curiosity.
She relaxed her brows, tossed her hair, and started to walk away, assuming I'd follow. I sighed as I turned back to my locker. I noticed her tapping her foot, looking at me expectantly, feigning annoyance. "Aren't you coming?"
I rolled my eyes as I walked toward her; arguing never ended well for me, and complying was usually the easier option. She was downright ruthless when it came to getting her way, yet that trait somehow made her feel oddly human. Besides, ending up on the wrong side of the school's queen wasn't exactly on my to-do list. Still, some days—like today—that wrath seemed almost worth it just to avoid this walking neon hazard. But I knew how that story would end, and it wasn't a path I was willing to take. So, goodbye to sanity for today.
Despite her diving me crazy almost to the point of insanity, she was the only person I could truly vent to. She would listen without a hint of malice, even if those rants were directed at her and I was rude or mean to her. In her own strange way, she was just a lovable idiot.
Just as I surrendered to my fate, she flashed a mischievous smile and, in that infuriatingly sweet innocent voice, said, "That's not what I heard."
I paused. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know. 'Not this again', I groaned quietly. What on earth has she heard this time again?