no, seriously, you can say thanks | cami/leo ; blitz

I regret ever letting Spencer talk me into coming to school more often because I could have avoided this tragedy altogether. "You're bothering me." I say, interrupting her stream of consciousness and wishing it were possible to sink into the earth when it doesn't work. "How did you even find me..." I'm either speaking too softly or the breeze isn't strong enough to carry my voice all the way down there.

She's pretty in a bubbly kind of way. I'm sure she's got a bright future ahead of her as a trophy wife. She has the simpering-sweet thing down pat already. Something tells me this girl's an over achiever.

I'm half-way through checking my watch when she shoves a stack of papers into my chest with a surprising amount of force and one look at the mess of numbers on the page has a migraine budding behind my eyes. Probably shouldn't have tuned out the latter half of her speech.

"But, like, why?"

I'm dumbstruck, dumbfounded and vaguely pissed off.

She reminds me of a songbird, needle-like talons digging into my shoulder as her shrill soprano turns my brain to mush. It pulls a humorless laugh from between my lips, more than she should have earned if I'm being honest. All this talk about the future like I have one. Like I'm not a black hole that's about to collapse in on itself, taking and taking until all that's left of me is stardust.

"I'm not sure about the friends that you keep, but they clearly don't care about you."

I know. "I don't care."

Her gaze is searching, maybe even hopeful. I almost believe she buys into the bullshit she's spewing. She must feel like a fucking hero, I certainly hope she does.

"Let's say you're right about pretty much everything. So what?" I raise my voice now that she's drawn blood with that smug smile of hers that pretends to know better. The stack of papers flutter to the ground and I use my heel to dig them into the dirt.

I don't want to think about my friends or if I can even call them that. And I definitely don't want to think about fucking geometry.

So I take a step toward her, arms crossed to my chest and a scowl furrowing my brows. "Was that all, sweetheart?"