Full Moon by Elaina H (short novels in english txt) 📕

I saw a lot of him, and he saw a lot of me. Jordan and I happened to get along with are extreme sarcasm and twisted sense of humor. I’m glad he still talks to me since I’m not with him anymore, and I never will be with him ever again.

The thought makes me grin, but I quickly frown again when two girls to my left snicker and whisper my name loud enough where I can hear,

He sighs, “You aren’t thinking about what people are saying, are you?”

“It hard not to,” I laugh under my breath, “when everyone just talks about it right in front of you. I don’t know what to do about it, Jordan!” I lay my head on my desk. I want to tell him the truth about what really happened, but I can’t say it. It’s to scary to retell what happened that night and what torments me till this day.

“Don’t lose all your dignity in front of these people, Gwen,” Jordan chews on his nail. “They’re not worth it. Besides, I heard what they’re saying, and if all you did was say a few things, which happen to be true, that are kind of hurtful, big deal. It wasn’t the smartest move, but at least you weren’t lying. Even though I’d rather you not have said I smell like smoke all the time because you know I can’t help that my stepdad can’t break the habit.”

I rub my eyes, the only thing I can do is mutter an apology, and continue to apologize for things I never said. “I know, the only thing I have left to my name here is cheerleading. But, since I shoved my sister, that’s going to be utterly miserable.”

“When is your first practice? I’ll come and cheer you on!” Jordan takes the bait and changes the subject. I raise my eyebrows and smile.

“I highly doubt you’d come to cheer me on. Maybe to look under girls skirts, but….”

He chuckles, “Seriously, when?”

“Tomorrow after school! It’ll be great fun!” I throw my arms in the air sarcastically.

“You’re too bitter,” he complains. “I can’t make it to your practice, but I’ll plan something with you, okay?”

I nod. The bell rings and we quiet down. Two girls in the corner of the classroom are whispering about something, and I can’t help but think it’s me.

“Hola! Cómo estás? Muy bien o muy mal?” Sra. smiles and laugh aloud.

A few of the universal dorks answer, but most of us just smile, nod, and mumble.

“Okay, so we’ve already hopped back into the swing of things and I gave you guys your first vocabulary quiz a week ago, so you need to make sure that…,” Sra. is cut off by the classroom phone ringing.

She sighs and picks it up, her long talons reaching for the receiver. She adjusts her stance so she has one hand on her right hip. Her awful blue, eighties outfit would make anyone cover there eyes and claim blindness.

“I understand, when do you want her to go to the office? As soon as possible?” she yawns, but quickly laughs, “Okay, I’ll send her down.”

“Gwen, run down to the office real fast. Come back as soon as you can.” She goes back to teaching and I share a look with Jordan.

“What is it?” he whispers.

I shrug, “Heck if I know, I’ll tell you later.”

When I open the door, the announcements click on and I hear Sra. scream under her breath, “Can I not be interrupted?!”

I shake my head and head out into the hallway. On my way to the office, I take my time. I get a drink and stare at the bulletin board, and like always, Anna lines the school news.

Chad has a football scholarship to Texas, I have no idea how her got that, he’s not even that good at football!

“ARE YOU GOING TO THE DANCE!” is written in bubbly letters across the board.

I roll my eyes and answer, “No.”

The school hallways are lines with school colors, powder blue, pale yellow, and white. Possibly the three ugliest school colors in history and whoever picked them should be forced to wear them on a cheerleading uniform.

The fluorescent lights in the hallway flicker, and the air conditioning kicks on with a loud roar.

Slowly but surly, I make it to the office and see the secretary’s bulldog face staring ip from behind the too-tall countertop, “What?!”

“I don’t know? I’m Gwen, you called me down.” I give her a ‘duh’ look when she’s not paying attention, and tap my toe impatiently, not like I have a desire to get back to class anyway.

When she turns back around, she sneers, “Oh, have a seat. I’ll get Mr. Heartford,” she waddles to the back of the room.

Sitting next to me is a kid. A big kid, but I guess that’s better than my mother, a police officer, or the creepy guy who swears the world is ending.

By big, I mean, tall and broad, not fat. His leather jacket and jeans inform me that he is also the boy I saw riding the motorcycle.

Waiting there uncomfortably, I begin to shake my legs up and down. The jittering must make the bench twitch because the kid next to me gives me a glare that could kill. I stop the jittering and wait for the principal to call me back quietly.

The secretary shuffles back in, “He’ll see you both now.”

“Both? Me?” I point to myself and I my voice raises an octave higher.

“Let’s go princess,” he mutters rudely.

I stand up and follow right at his heels, “Excuse me?! What did you just call me?”

“No time for fights, princess,” he smirks.

I stand up straight and tall, which five foot nine inches is apparently nothing compared to how tall this guy is, “My name is Gwen, and I’d like to be called that.”

“Okay, princess.”

I fume inside and anger builds up in me again, “How would you like it if I called you by a name you didn’t like?”

“Like what?” he asks simply.

I stutter, searching for anything, “How about…no…uh…I’ll come up with something and when I do…”

“Have a seat,” the principal tells us.

Shutting my mouth, I plop down into the chair and the kid sits down right beside me. “So here’s the deal,” Mr. Heartford starts, “Finn is new here, obviously, and I need you to watch him.”

“Why me?” I cry.

“Because you’re the only one who can deal with watching another person and keep up with your assignments and activities,” he sighs and starts to stand, thinking he’s finished.

In my head I panic. No I can’t! It can’t be me! I can barely control my own life, how am I supposed to help him with his? I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I don’t have to do anything outside of school, right?” I finally manage to blurt out.

“That depends if he asks, if Finn needs anything, he’s supposed to ask you,” the principal opens the door, “That’s all. You can take Finn to his locker and show him to his class. Most of the classes on your schedule are the same, but there are a few that aren’t.”

Walking out the door like a zombie, I make sure to frown at Mr. Hearford, “Thank you very much, Sir.” Behind me, Finn laughs and the principal directs us back toward the old, worn counter.

“Ms. Jones will help you get his schedule. Have a great day!” he says stupidly.

Ms. Jones starts handing me stuff, “This is awful!”

Finn raises an eyebrow, “I’m sure I could figure this out on my own if you don’t want to help.”

“No, and get blamed when something goes wrong. I don’t think so. It’s just,” I pause, “all in one crappy day.” Instead of shutting up, I continue to talk, “Well, really, it’s been a crappy three months, but it wouldn’t sound as good to say ‘all in three crappy months’.” I pause, and look at the kid. “What? I tend to talk to myself. Deal with it.”

He shrugs, and shakes his head. “Hey, not judging. I promise.”

“Yea right, everyone judges,” I says as I take the schedule and pull Finn out the door, “Where’s my locker?”

“Where do you think I’m taking you, dipstick?” he chuckles.

“Please tell me that not the best you can do!”

“Huh? What are you talking about,” I’m utterly confused, and tug at the bottom of my skirt as we walk toward junior hallway.

He half smiles, “The nickname?”

“Oh, dipstick? That’s what I call everyone. Well, either that or loser. But most of the time I reserve that one for my sisters,” I halt in front of a locker only twenty or so down from mine.

“Where’s your locker?” he asks looking like there’s going to be a name tag.

I sigh, “Just down there. Now let’s see, you have,” I click my tongue, “English II right now and Art second hour. Which is the same, art, I mean. Right now I have Spanish, so I’ll walk you to English because I really don’t want to have to go back to Spanish. It’s awful,” I exclaim.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have anything to bring though.”

I shake my head, “Huh? You didn’t bring any notebooks or binders?”

“No, didn’t think I’d need them right away.”

“Okay, here,” we walk to my locker and I open it. Out of my locker I grab an empty binder and one notebook, “use these until you can get to the store. These aren’t anything fancy, so no warranty,” I joke.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” We head to his English II class in silence.

When we come to a stop outside the door, I turn to him, “So here’s the thing. After this class, do you think you can get back to you locker?”

“Duh,” he counters.

I crinkle my nose and sigh as I realize I should probably take him to art. “Okay, wait at your locker, I’ll be there as soon as I can, and we’ll go to Art together,” I wait for an answer.

“Okay, that’s fine.”

I pull open the door, “There’s fifteen minutes left, see you then.”

Finn enters the English room without a look back. I automatically hear giggles and chairs scooting. “He can sit next to me, Ms. Henry!” a girl calls from the back.

“Now, now…” Ms. Henry’s voice is gone when the door clicks shut.

Once again, I head to Spanish. Slowly, dragging my feet all the way back.

When I open the door, Jordan looks ay me, “What was that about?”

“Wait till you hear this,” I mutter under my breath as Sra. smiles and continues teaching.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

“Really? You have to babysit a Junior? That sounds like great fun, Gwen,” he laugh at his sarcastic joke.

“That’s the thing, Jordan. He doesn’t even call me Gwen. He decided that he’s going to call me princess. I’m assuming it’s because I’m a cheerleader,” I pull my books tighter to my body as I catch the glares from other students. “I already can’t stand him, and I’ve known him for barely thirty minutes. Is that bad? Is that judging?”

“You’re not judging. You met him, right?” Jordan runs his fingers through his hair, and leans against the lockers as he waits for me.

“Besides, I’m sure he nicknamed you that because you complain, a lot. It has absolutely nothing to do with being a cheerleader. Is that comforting?” Jordan scoffs.

I gape at him, “Na uh! I barely complained.”

“Which means you complained, though,” I hold my hand up, almost dropping my books in the process.

“I told him I’d come up with a really cruel nickname for him,” Jordan laughs.

“Yea, that sounds about right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I cry.

He laughs, “It just means, that’s exactly what you would do.”

Opening my locker, I pull out my sketch pad. Jordan blocks my view of Finn, and I stare at Jordan.

“Do you have to walk him to art too?” Jordan asks.

I frown, “Yea, will you move so I can wave him down? Why do you think I’ve been staring at you for, like, twenty seconds?”

“Oh, sorry,” Jordan moves aside and Finn