The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(6)

Glad for the distraction and to finally have things back to normal, I let out a sigh of relief and opened my bag to get the red folder I stuck the report in to keep the pages fresh. It took me less than a minute to realize it wasn’t there. Where was it? When I had finished, I had immediately put it in my folder … and left it on my desk at home.

Crap.

I shuffled through the loose papers in my bag again, even though I knew that the report was at home, neatly stapled and ready to go. I had finished it days ago but forgot to put it in my bag yesterday because I was so sick.

After making a couple of notes in his binder, Mr. Peters moved around the classroom to collect the papers. As he got closer and closer to my seat, the panic in my stomach grew. I prayed for a miracle, an earthquake or tsunami to suddenly hit, even though something like that had never hit Wilmington before. Or anywhere in North Carolina. But that’s what miracles were, right? I mean, if Evan McKinley and I could hook up—or whatever we did Saturday night—then that was proof enough that the impossible could happen!

Heck, I wouldn’t even have minded a meteor right now.

“Ms. Simmons?”

“Uh, yes?”

With a frown, he waved the papers in the air. “I need your report.”

My eyes lowered, and I traced the old P Q carving on the corner of my desk. “Well, you see, it’s funny. Kind of. The thing is…” My voice lowered into a half whisper. “I think I left my report at home.”

“You think?”

“I mean, I know I did.” My attempt at an apologetic smile felt forced and weird. But it wasn’t my fault. I’d never been in this position before. I didn’t know what to do.

He blinked at me like he still didn’t understand. “You don’t have your report?”

“No.” Why did he keep making me repeat myself?

“You can’t blame her, Mr. Peters,” a loud voice suddenly called out from the back of the room. With a smirk, Lauren Tillman leaned back in her chair and swept her fiery-red hair over one slender shoulder. “Taylor had a really busy weekend.”

My weak smile melted like an icicle on the sidewalk in the middle of summer.

Even though we’d gone to school together forever, I could barely count the number of times Lauren had talked to me. Or even about me. I didn’t even know she knew my name.

Mr. Peters shook his head. “Still, this isn’t like you, Taylor. Your record is usually so impeccable.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Little Miss Perfect blemished a lot more than just her record at the party. And after,” Lauren loudly continued.

At that, the whole class snorted with laughter. A couple of guys in the back row winked and made kissy-faces at me.

“All right, that’s enough.” Mr. Peters had to smack his binder against the side of my desk to get everyone to shut up. “Let’s just start class.”

He leaned down and lowered his voice a bit. “You can bring it to me tomorrow, but I’m disappointed in you, Taylor. Really. I expected more from you. If I can’t trust you to hand in a simple paper on time, how am I supposed to let you plan Career Day? Or give the alumni presentation?”

It was as though all the blood had drained from my face. I could feel myself getting light-headed. “No, I swear I did the report. I did it on the first test-tube baby in the U.S. It was Elizabeth Carr in Virginia. If you want, I could run home and get it! Or my mom can bring it to school for me, or—”

He waved his hand to stop my defense. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. Just see me after class.”

“Yes, sir.” I made the mistake of looking behind me and locking eyes with Lauren again.

She pursed her lips in mock sympathy and wiggled her fingers at me in a half wave.

Cheeks flaming, I whipped my head back around. My fingers dug into the sides of my chair. Gah. I wanted to crawl beneath my desk and die. The mockery and gossiping were one thing, but I had never had a teacher be disappointed in me. Much less a teacher who had connections to the alumni and faculty at Columbia. This was the worst time to get on Mr. Peters’s bad side. A good word from him to the guest speaker could make all the difference in the world. Could turn my being wait-listed into an acceptance.

And now it was all slipping down the drain.

Double crap.

*

“You!”

I didn’t look up. Not even when Carly tapped the top of my head with a binder. Twice. Though it throbbed, I buried my head even deeper in my arms, trying to disappear. I didn’t want to see all the eyes around the cafeteria staring at me, like they’d been doing all morning. I thought it might die down a bit by lunch, but I couldn’t even eat my barbecued meatloaf and steamed vegetables in peace.

“First you don’t pick up my call, and now you won’t even look at me?” Carly’s voice got more high-pitched with each word. From previous experience, I knew this wasn’t a good sign. She was like a ticking time bomb, and if I didn’t respond, the lunch ladies would be scraping pieces of me out of the gravy bin. She was my best friend and I loved her, but her nosiness and booming voice were probably going to kill me. “How could you ditch me at the party?”

I turned my head and wiggled my nose when my hair flopped over my face. The strands parted with my loud sigh. Her face hovered over me with a scowl.

“Oh, hi. How was civics?”