Despite the strong urging in my gut, I don't bother to confront Miley as I walk into the girl's locker room. She glances over as I stop in front of my locker and shoots me a small smile, but I ignore her. I twist the lock and open my locker. Throwing my backpack into the small metal cage, I wriggle into my gym clothes and then slam the locker door shut. 

Miley twists her own lock and pauses, "Alice?"

I don't really look at her, but I arch an eyebrow and let out a small grunting noise, just to let her know that I'm listening. She folds her arms across her chest, "Are you alright?"

"No," I answer honestly. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." 

We step out into the gym, and an uncomfortable silence washes over us. I keep my gaze glued to the shiny wooden floor planks. It isn't worth it. I don't feel like confronting her about it, because then I'd have to listen to her argue about it. There was a good chance that she would get offended. Then I would have to deal with that too. It was already giving me a headache, and it hadn't even happened. 

I fiddle with the hem of my shit as we walk over to our group, and line up so Godzilla can take attendance. Gym progresses quietly; I only completely run over one person in my attempt to spike the volleyball, which is an amazing feat in itself when considering my mean competitive streak. When it's over, Miley and I dress out in silence, and then exit the locker room. She pauses just outside the door and frowns at me. 

Blue-Eyes waits several feet away and, without sparing Miley a glance, walk over to him. I grin and he pecks my forehead before he asks, "How was gym?"

"Alright, I guess." I glance over my shoulder. Miley stands beside Devon, sporting a slightly wounded expression, and Carl scratches the back of his head. Devon's gaze is focused in our direction and narrowed into a dirty glare. 

"Did you talk to Miley?" Blue-Eyes's gaze follows my own. 

"No," I cross my arms over my chest. He nods; his facial features twist into something grim. I smile half-heartily and he winds an arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest. "I just can't believe that she would do that. Of all people," I grumble into his t-shirt. 

He squeezes me tight and sighs, "I know. I tried to tell you." 

I mumble something under my breath, and Blue-Eyes releases me. His hand finds mine and we start walking toward  our classes. As I slow to a stop in front of my chemistry classroom, he presses his lips into a tight line. We face each other, and he stares intently at my face.

I grimace, "What?" 

"I hope you like to bowl," he flashes a sheepish smile at me, "Because I'm going to take you to the bowling alley after school."

"Really?" I arch an eyebrow, "You're so cheesy." My lips twitch into a small smile and I fold my arms across my chest. "I'd love to go, but I have a math test to study for," I sigh. The bell rings, and one of the teachers starts to usher everyone lingering in the hallways to go to class. 

"You'll be fine," Blue-Eyes rolls his gorgeous eyes and leans in. He presses a chaste kiss to my lips, "You're the smartest girl I know." 

"Your flattery is pointless," I open the door to the classroom. "My mother will never let me go." 

He glances back over his shoulder and closes one eye in a sly wink, "We'll see." 

I shake my head and enter the classroom. We have a very simple lab today; one where were are to identify weird looking slides with a microscope and jot down the answers in a packet. When the bell rings, I pack up my things and meet Blue-Eyes near the Art building. He grabs my hand but remains quiet throughout the walk into the classroom and the rest of the period. I eye him curiously and chat with Amanda until the bell rings, and we're free to go home. 

We climb into this car and I buckle my seat belt. Blue-Eyes glances over and chuckles, "Don't bother, it's only a few seconds to where we're going." 

I shoot him an irate look, "Seth, I told you..."

"Your mom won't mind. She let you go out with me last night," he points out as the car pulls into a parking spot just in front of the local shabby, paint-peeling bowling alley. He puts the car in park and glances over at me. "Just one game." 

"Then we go home, and I am going to study," I scowl at him. 

He grins like a child who has just gotten away with stealing a bag of candy, and we both climb out of the car. We enter the bowling alley and pause in front of the main desk. Blue-Eyes pays for a game while I pick out my shoes and ball. I have to get the lightest one because I have the strength of a fly. We change and then walk over to our lane --it just so happens to be lucky number seven. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," I grumble as I slip into the germ infested rental shoes.

Blue-Eyes hums innocently as he slides across the checkered tile in front of me, his rental shoes a hideous puke green color. He strikes an Elvis-inspired pose and winks at me, and I resist the urge to clobber him with my bowling ball. 

"Let's play, slowpoke," he beams at me and grabs his bowling ball, which weighs a hefty ten pounds and is colored a bright, swirly orange. I snort and stand, my feet almost sliding out from under me, and join my boyfriend atop the bowling platform.

He kisses my forehead. "I was going to ask you to kiss my ball for luck, but it's probably really dirty." 

"That whole statement can be considered dirty," I retort with a dry smirk. 

He wags his eyebrows, "You can totally kiss those balls too, if you'd like." 

"Before or after I hit them with mine?" I make a show of grabbing my ball and then clutch it to my chest. He grimaces at the idea, and mutters a wounded, "Ouch," before rolling his swirly ball down the lane. It slams against the white colored pins, and I scowl as he gets a strike. 

"Beat that, grumpy," Blue-Eyes flashes a wicked grin my way as I step up to throw my bowling ball. 

He ends up winning the game, which makes my competitive streak flare, and I demand several more games until I finally win at least one. Luckily for me, my boyfriend finds my sore-loser attitude adorable and happily continues to pay for games. By the time we are forced to leave the bowling alley because of his lack of cash, the sky has turned dark and I'm celebrating a second win. I dance to the car and slide into the passenger seat with an enthusiastic, "I'm a winner, you're a loser, nah!" 

Blue-Eyes chuckles and twists the key in the ignition. I silently dance victoriously in my seat during the drive to my house. 

"Thanks for forcing me to go bowling," I grin at Blue-Eyes as the car pulls to a stop in front of my house.

He leans over and presses his lips to mine. "I'm glad you had fun, babe." 

I bid him a heartfelt goodbye and then exit the car. As I open the front door to my house, my blood chills and I pause in the doorway. I look around and narrow my eyes. The lights are dark...too dark. I drop my backpack near the door and then walk toward the kitchen, "Mom?"

"In here." 

Her tone sends a shard of terror straight into my heart. I step into the kitchen and then freeze in the doorway. She sits at the kitchen table, her back facing me, and a white screen sits on the table before her. I recognize the label on the screen immediately --she's pulled up my grades using the teacher-parent website. I swallow thickly, "Now mother dearest, I can explain..."

"Are you kidding me?" She shrills, almost cracking the screen of her tablet. The medium sized electronic rectangle is knocked to the side and she whirls around, sea green eyes blazing. "You have a D in math, Alice. That's unacceptable!" 

Immediately, I go into defense mode. "It's not my fault! Do you know how hard I study for that class? Nothing makes sense to me!" 

"That's what tutoring is for," my mother hisses like an angry cobra. I open my mouth to argue, but she pinches the bridge of her nose and cuts me off with a growl. "I swear, if you get a D on your report card, Alice, you won't be going to homecoming. Until this is taken care of, you are not allowed to see Seth after school. Understood?"

"But mom," I scowl at her and my hands bunch up into tight fists at my sides, "That isn't fair!" 

"Getting a D isn't fair," her hands twitch toward the tablet, and that's when I know that it's time to cave and run to my bedroom to whine, lest I want to be blamed for a broken tablet as well. "After all I've sacrificed for you, all the dirty diapers that I changed, and yet you can't even make a simple A in school?" 

I grumble curse words under my breath and stalk toward the staircase. I snatch my backpack from it's spot on the floor and stomp up the staircase --ignoring her shrieks of self-pity and threats. I slam the door to my bedroom shut and flop down onto my bed. 

My eyes burn with unshed tears and my fingers curl around the slender, rectangular shape of my cellphone. I unlock it and dial Blue-Eyes's number. 

He doesn't answer. 

I resist the urge to throw my cellphone at the wall. Of course, he wouldn't answer, even though I needed him. I suck in a shuddering breath and set my phone aside, leaning back against the back of my bed. Maybe he'll call me back soon; he's probably just busy with his parents or something. 

My phone vibrates against the bedside table, and I lurch toward it. I pull it to my face and squint at the caller ID. 

Disappointment slams into me like a tidal wave and I press the ignore button; I don't want to talk to Miley tonight, or ever again, really. I set my phone aside again and slump down into my bed. I let out a long-suffering sigh.

He doesn't call me back.