| While it probably wasn't fair of her to hold a grudge against Mrs. Lipscomb for something that happened in the second grade Morrigan couldn't deny that she indeed was holding one hell of a grudge against the mild-mannered teacher who once wrongly accused her of plagiarism.
It was the principle of the thing! The idea that Morrigan had actually had the audacity to somehow lift fake zodiacs wholesale somehow from some shitty magazine when any moron with two hands an half an imagination could write them given ten minutes and the incentive of a passing grade.
And over the word upstaged.
Honestly. No one could blame her for voting against Mrs. Lipscomb for the school board even if Morrigan was technically casting a vote on the behalf of each of her parents who were so completely uncaring about her (numerous) passionate arguments against the old hag getting even a fingerhold on the vacant school board position.
Not that either of the Wolfe couple had any intention of voting or cared one way or another which was also why Morrigan had told herself that it was very reasonable to just go ahead and vote for them. Didn't her teachers always say how important it was to make sure your vote counted?
I hope Mrs. Lipscomb cries when she is rejected.
Stuck as she was in her imaginations of righteous justice Morrigan didn't see that she was headed on a collision course, slamming into the back of a stranger so hard they both went tumbling. Worse: her backpack was half-zipped which meant all of her things went flying cartoonishly through the air, landing haphazardly all over the vacant hallway.
"Sugar!"
"...I'm sorry?"
Mortified couldn't begin to describe how she felt in that moment staring into the eyes of the new student after she'd done something as embarrassing as censor herself like she was five years old. "I mean shit. Shit. Like the curse. I do curse, all the time even. I'm not lame. It's just that I said fuck once and Renee said it in front of Grandma Vivian and you would have thought the world was coming to an end so I'm trying to be better about it." Oh god, and now she was rambling.
She could feel her cheeks burning, no doubt bright pink. Can the ground just swallow me up now please?
Thankfully, said new student didn't seem to mind her rambling. In fact he even smiled at her, revealing two devastating dimples on either side of his mouth. Of course he's cute. Not that it was a new thought. In a school as small as theirs she already knew more about Arthur Durant than she should given that they'd never spoken, but that's just how it was.
Like, Cindy Hayes at the Pick N' Save said when Arthur came into town he'd had gorgeous shoulder-length hair, but that uncle of his had buzzed it all off. And later Arthur had gone to the local convenience store and bought two milky-ways before spending the afternoon in the library reading The Count of Monte Cristo.
She also knew he'd politely shut down offers to join the football team, that he was from Kansas originally but his parents had sent him to live with his aunt and uncle for unknown reasons - reasons the town was already wildly speculating about. He also had gorgeous grey-blue eyes with flecks of brown in them and had spent most of his first week since transferring lurking around the art room.
But I didn't know his voice sounded like that. Soft, honeysweet. It made her feel warm inside like sneaking a drink of spiked apple cider.
Gently, Arthur helped her gather her belongings up in a neat pile before handing them over and helping her stand. He hadn't said anything else since she'd clammed up, but he kept watching her with that smile. Finally he held out his hand, shaking hers with a confident grip. "My name is Art, little rambler."
"Morrigan. I swear I am not always this awkward."
"Well then, I'm lucky I caught you in just the right mood, Morrigan." |
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