I forced myself to keep at it until the parking lot was full, and I ended up rushing to English. We were working on Animal Farm, an easy subject matter. I didn't mind communism; it was a welcome change from the exhausting romances that made up most of the curriculum. I settled into my seat, pleased by the distraction of Mr. Berty's lecture.
Time moved easily while I was in school. The bell rang all too soon. I started repacking my bag.
"Bella?" I recognized Mike's voice, and I knew what his next words would be before he said them. "Are you working tomorrow?"
I looked up. He was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every Friday he asked me the same question. Never mind that I hadn't taken so much as a sick day. Well, with one exception, months ago. But he had no reason to look at me with such concern. I was a model employee.
"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" I said. Having just had it pointed out to me by Charlie, I realized how lifeless my voice really sounded.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "See you in Spanish." He waved once before turning his back. He didn't bother walking me to class anymore.
I trudged off to Calculus with a grim expression. This was the class where I sat next to Jessica.
It had been weeks, maybe months, since Jess had even greeted me when I passed her in the hall. I knew I had offended her with my antisocial behavior, and she was sulking. It wasn't going to be easy to talk to her now–especially to ask her to do me a favor. I weighed my options carefully as I loitered outside the classroom, procrastinating.
I wasn't about to face Charlie again without some kind of social interaction to report. I knew I couldn't lie, though the thought of driving to Port Angeles and back alone–being sure my odometer reflected the correct mileage, just in case he checked–was very tempting. Jessica's mom was the biggest gossip in town, and Charlie was bound to run into Mrs. Stanley sooner rather than later. When he did, he would no doubt mention the trip. Lying was out.
With a sigh, I shoved the door open.
Mr. Varner gave me a dark look–he'd already started the lecture. I hurried to my seat. Jessica didn't look up as I sat next to her. I was glad that I had fifty minutes to mentally prepare myself.
This class flew by even faster than English. A small part of that speed was due to my goody-goody preparation this morning in the truck–but mostly it stemmed from the fact that time always sped up when I was looking forward to something unpleasant.
I grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early. He smiled like he was being nice.
"Jess?" My nose wrinkled as I cringed, waiting for her to turn on me. She twisted in her seat to face me, eyeing me incredulously. "Are you talking to me, Bella?" "Of course." I widened my eyes to suggest innocence. "What? Do you need help with Calculus?" Her tone was a tad sour.
"No." I shook my head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you would… go to the movies with me tonight? I really need a girls' night out." The words sounded stiff, like badly delivered lines, and she looked suspicious.
"Why are you asking me?" she asked, still unfriendly.
"You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." I smiled, and I hoped the smile looked genuine. It was probably true. She was at least the first person I thought of when I wanted to avoid Charlie. It amounted to the same thing.
She seemed a little mollified. "Well, I don't know."
"Do you have plans?"
"No… I guess I can go with you. What do you want to see?"
"I'm not sure what's playing," I hedged. This was the tricky part. I racked my brain for a clue–hadn't I heard someone talk about a movie recently? Seen a poster? "How about that one with the female president?"
She looked at me oddly. "Bella, that one's been out of the theater forever."
"Oh." I frowned. "Is there anything you'd like to see?"
Jessica's natural bubbliness started to leak out in spite of herself as she thought out loud. "Well, there's that new romantic comedy that's getting great reviews. I want to see that one. And my dad just saw Dead End and he really liked it."
I grasped at the promising title. "What's that one about?"
"Zombies or something. He said it was the scariest thing he'd seen in years." "That sounds perfect." I'd rather deal with real zombies than watch a romance.
"Okay." She seemed surprised by my response. I tried to remember if I liked scary movies, but I wasn't sure. "Do you want me to pick you up after school?" she offered.