I sat in Mme.Doumaire's classroom, trying my best to listen as he reviewed when to conjugate verbs into passé-composé versus imparfait. But the thing is, I couldn't. The only word running through my head was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Or better yet, stupide, stupide, stupide.

Not only did I lie to Wren, but now, she believed that her locker was going to be moved when reality begged to differ. Maybe I could hope that Wren's locker was in fact, being moved by the office for being vandalized? But how could I tell her that? She'd be hurt knowing that someone wrote a hate message over her locker.

I let out a sigh, flinging my pen anxiously between two fingers. If the spray paint over her locker was actually permanent, the office would probably move her nonetheless, right? So my lie wouldn't be totally wrong . . .

"Vince!" 

Suddenly I'm snapped back to my senses as Mme.Doumaire called on me.

"Oui?" I blurted out, flicking my gaze towards the chalkboard in front of me, where many conjugated French verbs were written in Mme.Doumaire's signature cursive, the ends of them underlined in a line of pink chalk. In my peripheral vision, I could see the heads of classmates turning, their eyes landing straight on me.

"Ça va?" She asked sternly, taking a couple of steps towards my desk. I tipped my head up to meet her gaze briefly, only to respond with a measly nod.

Mme.Doumaire let out a long sigh before making her way back to the front of the classroom. 

"This," Mme.Doumaire emphasized, knocking against the chalkboard, "is important. You'll need it for the comprehension section of your French exams."

Suddenly my mind began clouding over with thoughts of Wren. Is she prepared enough for the upcoming exams in February? Despite the fact that we didn't cover too much in Mr.Woodsworth's class while she was away, she still missed out on a couple of new concepts. Maybe I should give her my notes to copy tonight?

Again, I'm knocked back into reality as Mme.Doumaire knocked against the chalkboard for the second time.

"And it doesn't matter whether you're Francophone or not" she spat, shooting me a momentary glare. A few snickers erupted from the silence, making me feel ten times worse than I was already feeling. 

Although Mme.Doumaire was addressing the entirety of the class, I had a feeling that this entire conversation was aimed specifically towards me. And admittedly, I couldn't help but feel personally attacked at the comment.

"There are no exceptions for anyone," Mme.Doumaire concluded, shooting me yet another one of her "looks". As she turned her back, I suddenly felt very conscious of the many faces watching me, some even looking upon me with looks of disgust, others whispering among each other. I could already feel my status being updated from "lone backstabber" to "lone stuck-up backstabber".

Almost as if on cue, the bell rang, signalling the end of first period. I was so focused on everyone's lingering gazes that I forgot to pack up for the next class. Quickly, I scrambled to do so, hastily stuffing my notebook and pencils into my backpack. But just before I could take a step out of the classroom, Mme.Doumaire shot me a look of disappointment, ultimately rubbing salt into the previous burn she had delivered. 

And it hurt. 

A lot.

Turning away from Mme.Doumaire's eyes of disapproval, I began making my way down the hall, only to bump into yet another potential obstacle.

As per usual, the menacing gaze of her icy blue eyes pierced into mine, only this time, I didn't feel the need to be intimidated. I've already seen the wall of supposed fearlessness crumble to her feet multiple times before, and although it did take a while, it simply contributed to the revelation that Georgia is a single human being, just like me.

My only question was: why would Georgia talk to me after all that had happened with Jason? 

"Georgia . . . ," I muttered, catching her gaze. "Can I help you with anything?"

At that moment, Georgia seemed to be taken aback, flicking her gaze to the right for a split second before letting her pale blue eyes land on mine once again. In my peripheral vision, I noticed a tall figure rush by us, and although I couldn't see his blonde dreadlocks through the knitted orange beanie over his head, I knew that he was Jason. For just a moment I caught his gaze, but he quickly whipped his head around, walking off. 

I shifted my gaze back on to Georgia, who was still standing in silence, her eyes wandering off to stare at her feet.

"The bell's gonna ring soon," I pointed out to her, snapping her out of her trance. Abruptly, Georgia flicked her head upwards. She let out a sigh of frustration, letting her gaze go amiss once again.

"We need to . . . talk," she declared finally. For once, the typically threatening look in her eyes softened, and I could already tell she was trying her best to be sincere about it.

"Now preferably," she added, positioning herself in her usual imposing stance. Her words came out more as a demand than a proposal really, which honestly, didn't add to the previous sense of sincerity. 

"What happened to class?" I asked, indirectly shrugging off her suggestion. 

Georgia let out a sigh at my response.

"You have Ms.Tapia next and there's a sub in for her. You're not going to be missing anything."

Although she wasn't wrong about both statements, I raised my eyebrows at her in suspicion.

"How did you-"

"Angelese," Georgia replied, cutting me off. "She sees you going in there every day."

"Oh" is all that I managed to mutter as Georgia spoke up once again.

"So let's go."

She tipped her head to the side expectantly, causing her bleach blonde hair to slide off her shoulder.

After a quick thought about it, I shook my head, deciding against ditching class. 

Somehow I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at Georgia. Thinking back at the way she treated me before the winter break wasn't exactly ideal. And for me to suddenly give her all of my attention and obey her every command? Not exactly something that I was planning to do anymore. Besides, I've already had my fair share of unexpected high school drama, and well, considering all that I already had on my plate, I wasn't planning to get involved in even more.

"I'll just stay in class," I declared, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. Besides a couple of students wandering around, the halls were practically empty, which served as a sign that the second bell was going to go off any second now. Which also meant that I was going to be late.

I broke into a jog, only to find brisk footsteps following behind me.

"Vince!" Georgia suddenly called out in desperation. "This is important."

"Sorry Georgia but I have to get to class," I said, dismissing her statement. Even so, Georgia remained persistent.

"It's about Wren."

That statement was enough to bring me to a halt.

Cautiously, I turned around to face her.

"What about Wren?" I asked suspiciously. Just then, the second bell rang, signalling the start of second period.

Fantastic.

Again, Georgia let out a sigh of frustration that I felt I should've let out myself. Her gaze wandered off for a few moments before catching mine once again.

"I don't want to say it here so just . . ."

Another long sigh escaped her lips as she clenched her fists, her grip falling loose after just a couple seconds.

"Just . . . please?"

Her once-dominant stance fell, leaving behind a face of desperation. Her eyes seemed to reflect the tone of her voice; pleading somehow. 

I took a deep breath. 

I was already late for class, and my phone was registered for school absences and notices since Dad's broke down a while ago. Other than a couple of filler practice worksheets on grammar, what did I have to lose at this point?

"Fine," I stated, beginning to walk towards Georgia, "I'll go."