* * *
Since I have the luxury of not paying attention, I spend the next few classes before lunch thinking about everything going on. Now believe me when I say, I sat through three classes straight and tried my absolute hardest to use my time wisely and think about the real issues going on in my life right now. The issues which desperately require my immediate attention and creative solutions at this very moment. First and foremost being the situation that involves keeping my mom happy while not revealing my genius. Coming in at a very close second is somehow finding out what Summer knows. But these two all-important issues were repeatedly and rudely derailed from my train of thought by a single other matter: Bryson Turner.
Don't get me wrong, I have complete control over my thoughts, and on any other day I could totally shut him out of my head. But we just shared an intense, romantic moment of him almost running me clean over, which actually led to us speaking our first words to each other. That coupled with the fact he was in two of the next three classes, sitting in the front row and allowing me to stare at him and fantasize about our little hallway hit-and-run over and over, did not allow my mind to stray to any other topic. So, I'll just view it as being completely out of my control and totally forgive myself.
"Haha, that's so funny," Becca laughs as I finish explaining my concentration problems to her while we're walking to the caf.
As we make our way over to the table where we usually sit, I can't help but notice Summer has once again set her sights on me, with the same sneaky grin on her snobby face. She honestly scares the daylights out of me. If it wasn't for Becca being at my side, waiting to rip her throat out on command, I'd probably hide behind a teacher all day.
"My tolerance for this girl is fading fast, Dor," Becca warns, glancing at Summer. "I'm about to go knock that grin off her face."
This is the level of Becca's loyalty to me. She personally has absolutely no quarrel with Summer, but she's one hundred percent willing to take Summer down in front of everyone--teachers included--on my behalf, risking suspension and possible expulsion?which I refuse to allow.
I shake my head. "Okay, well, I'm going to get a salad. You want one?" I ask, trying to change the subject and redirect her attention.
"Yeah, I'll take one," she barely says, her eyes still fixed on Summer.
"'K, I'll be right back."
I get extremely nervous as I start walking and I notice Summer has gotten up from her seat and seems to be headed right in my direction. I figure at this point it's too late to turn around and run back to my table, so I reluctantly and fearfully keep moving, desperately hoping she will change course and not acknowledge me at all. But before I know it, she cuts me off by coming to a dead stop directly in front of me.
I start to panic.
"So," she begins as she puts her hands on her hips, resting them on the denim skirt that barely covers her lower half, paired with heels that are literally allowing her to look down at me. "Why should I not tell everyone your little secret?" she asks, looking at me as if she would love to destroy me for whatever reason.
I spin around and accidentally sneeze on a guy walking by who puts his hands up, gives a disgusted look, and walks away. "Sorry!" I call after him.
I tend to sneeze repeatedly when I get really nervous or scared as a result of any form of confrontation--one of my many weird quirks.
As I yell out my apology, I see Becca angrily stomping our way. And before I can even turn back around, she's about six inches from Summer's face.
"You're not gonna tell anyone anything, Little Miss Cheat Sheet," Becca says with a low, threatening tone and a demeanor that expresses her intense hatred for Summer.
As I'm listening to this go on, my back once again turned to the two of them, I let out another five or six soft, almost-silent sneezes in a row as I reach for a napkin on the nearest table. Then I slowly turn halfway back around just in time to notice Summer carefully backing up, trying to add a few inches of space between her and Becca.
"What are you talking about?" Summer asks worriedly, continuing to ease back.
"Oh, I saw the cheat sheet under your desk in first period," Becca informs her. "So you better keep to yourself whatever it is you know about Dori, or I'll go straight to Mrs. Anderson's room and have a talk with her. Or I can pound your face in right here in front of everybody. Your choice," Becca snarls, allowing Summer to choose her own fate.
Luckily we're not rock stars on center stage here. We're in sort of a remote corner of the caf where, aside from the junior and senior cheerleaders at Summer's table across the room who are now craning their necks from a seated position to see what's going on, very few people even notice the commotion.
Summer, now visibly shaken over the turn of events, clearly wants to tuck her tail, run off, and hide. "Okay, I won't tell anyone she likes Bryson," she replies quietly and submissively.
Surprised, I turn around to face them while holding a tissue over my nose. Becca looks surprised, as well, but her expression quickly disappears as she begins to narrow her eyes at Summer. "Is that the only secret you know?" Becca asks, her threatening tone still present.
"Yes, that's it!" Summer replies, eager to end the conversation and scram. I accidentally lose control of my napkin as I sneeze again and watch it fly directly onto Summer.
"Gross!" she shouts.
"Sorry!" I call to her as she turns and stomps away.
At this point, I stand here completely embarrassed as I realize we've gotten the attention of quite a few more people. Even the lunch lady is now looking back and forth between Summer, Becca and me, clearly wondering what just happened.
"Come on," Becca says, walking with me to the lunch line to get our salads. I guess she's trying to protect me in case Summer decides to come anywhere near me again.
Honestly, though, I don't think Summer would even consider it after that episode. In fact, as frightened as she was, I think Kim Kardashian could walk through those doors and offer her a million dollar shopping spree to approach me again, and Summer would tell her to take her money and shove it. She probably views it as a suicide mission at this point, which hopefully puts an end to the "Summer problem" altogether. Luckily with no fatalities.