Fourteen by C.M. Smith (short story to read .txt) 📕

get started on them. The science fair was in three weeks, and while not every class would be dedicated to the project, a good portion of our future ones would be. We would still have tests to take and other homework to do, so working outside of class was crucial.

Neither of us was very happy about that. “I’ll get started on it tonight, then, and fill you in during class tomorrow.”

“I can come over after practice,” he said in a low voice, and I stared at him as he looked around the room as if to see if anyone had heard him.

“Whatever you want to do, Evan.”

“We finish around five. I’ll be there around five forty-five.”

“Sounds good.” I stared straight ahead and looked away from Steve as he turned around to talk to Evan.

“How’s it going, dude?”

Evan shrugged.

“Has she tried to like . . . molest you or anything? It’s not like she’s ever had any action.”

I clenched my jaw and looked out the window, placing one arm in my lap and resting my chin in the other.

“No, she hasn’t. I’m keeping my distance.”

“Don’t let her get too close. She’ll sit on you. Probably crush your entire body while she’s at it, too.”

I sucked in a deep breath and grabbed my books. I slid off the stool, walked up to the front of the room, and leaned over Mr. Streeter’s desk as I waited for him to look up at me.

“Can I leave a little early, Mr. Streeter?” I asked, embarrassed when my voice shook.

I had never cried during school before. Things rarely happened that hurt so badly that I couldn’t wait until I got home at the end of the day. I had dealt with Steve Forrester and Grace Alcott screaming out fat jokes without crying. I had dealt with Brittany Feldman pointing and laughing at me as I changed for gym class without crying. But in the past two days and all thanks to Evan Drake, it was like I did nothing but cry. It was just one more thing that kept me infuriated with myself.

“Is everything all right, Anna?” he asked, his eyes darting from me to what I assumed was my lab desk.

“Yes, I just have . . . um . . . can I please go?”

“I suppose so. Feel better.”

I offered him a shaky smile in thanks before walking out of the room and to my locker, breathing deeply as I switched out my books for my next class.

What had I ever done to any of them to make them say things like that about me?

I scribbled a note to my father just in case he came home early and grabbed my keys and iPod from the table. I placed the ear buds into my ears, pushed play on my iPod, and stuffed it and my keys into my pocket before I locked the door and walked out of the house. I jumped down the stairs, taking a deep breath and spreading my legs, leaning over and stretching before standing back up and jogging down the road.

I tried to run at least three times a week. Not only had I shed two sizes since I’d started, but it had also helped clear my mind a little. And after a day like today, a little clarity was something I definitely needed.

For the rest of the day, I had managed to keep my emotions in check. It also helped that Evan wasn’t in any of my other classes and all I had to deal with was Brittany and Grace, laughing and pointing and making snide comments like they always did. I had learned early on how to block them out, and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t do the same thing with Evan.

Why did his insults hurt so much more than anyone else’s jibes? He wasn’t saying anything new; in fact, it was all getting pretty old. Honestly, I’d stopped caring and listening to them for the most part.

What was it about him that just made it hurt so much? My self-esteem had always been low, but he’d completely destroyed any I might have had left. I get that I was nothing to him; I was nothing to any of them. But I’d never seen the use in insulting the people I didn’t truly know anything about, and I didn’t understand why they thought they had a right to do the same to me.

I jogged by Brittany Feldman’s grandmother’s house, briefly wondering if she knew about how much of a cruel bitch her granddaughter really was.

I concentrated on the music flowing from my ear buds as I continued down the street.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now. I hadn’t had a bad day at school. I hadn’t had to deal with anyone that couldn’t come up with an original joke. I hadn’t come home to an empty house and a heavy heart. And I most certainly hadn’t cried because Evan Drake had agreed with Steve Forrester this morning.

They didn’t know me. They didn’t know anything that was going on in my life, so them making comments like that and saying those things were not important. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter to me.

Just a few more months. Graduation isn’t that far away, and NYU is waiting for me. I can deal with this shit for just a few more months.

I turned around just before the street Steve Forrester lived on and jogged back home. I walked up the porch steps, once again, greeted with an empty house. After setting my iPod and keys on the small end table by the door, I walked into the kitchen, crumpled up the note to Dad, and threw it away.

I looked at the clock on the microwave—ten past five. I had plenty of time to take a shower before Evan showed up.

If he showed up.

Rolling my eyes and sighing, I made it up the stairs and into the bathroom. After stripping, I