Unflappable Sabrina

Before class starts, there's a buzz of conversation going on, mostly about Sabrina. Just like yesterday, the guys are being kinda gross. One of them tries to ask me to speculate on what Sabrina might have gotten up to in that apartment (my apartment, not that I feel like telling them that), and I snap at them to mind their own business. I've never had a whole lot of patience for that kind of meathead chest thumping, and I really don't like it when it's a friend who's the butt of the joke. A couple of the guys I've been eating lunch with have the decency to look embarrassed and quiet down, and the others roll their eyes and go back to gossiping among themselves. Foley also pipes down, face going pale. I guess that impression Sophie made on him at the bus stop still hasn't worn off. Fine by me.

One of the bolder ones calls over to Sabrina as she's walking to her desk. "Hey, Sabrina! Can I get a date this Friday?"

There's some giggles from the class. Sabrina doesn't even break stride.

"Zeke, if you start brushing your teeth twice a day and discover deodorant, I'm sure you can accomplish many things that are as yet out of your reach," she says, and the giggles turn to full-blown laughter. To my amazement, a good number of the guys shift focus to dogging on this Zeke guy's appeal (or lack thereof) instead.

Sophie isn't impressed, though, sitting criss-cross in the air beside my desk, arms folded across her chest. "It's not a high bar to clear with this crowd of knuckleheads," she grouses. "She just knows they'll pick on anyone, given a nudge in the right direction. And that wasn't even a very good insult." But I can little twinges at the corners of her mouth where her lips were trying to curve upwards.

I overhear one of the girls in class ask Sabrina a question, though I can't quite make out what she's whispering.

"What do you think?" Sabrina replies at full volume, making the other girl's face turn red. "If you'll believe an anonymous person on the internet who won't even put their name to their claims over your class president, that's your choice. I won't dignify any more of this childish crap with a response."

How Sabrina manages to make a tame word like "crap" sound like an actual obscenity is beyond me. Cowed, the girl goes and sits down at her own desk, just as the bell rings and the teacher walks in, binder and travel mug in hand.

The morning announcements include a lame PSA about how bullying is wrong and isn't tolerated at the school. It sounds a lot like some of the ones we had to listen to at my old school, where there was also plenty of bullying going on right under the faculty's noses that they never seemed to do much about.

"Remember class," the teacher droned after the announcements wrapped up, between sips of the alleged coffee in her travel mug. "We have a zero-tolerance policy toward bullying and harassment. Please tell myself or any of the staff if you're being targeted, and if you see something, say something." No doubt every other teacher is repeating the exact same thing to their own class. Is the timing a coincidence, or did Sabrina already tell them what was going on? I glance over at Sabrina, but she's calmly taking out her text and notebook, looking unruffled as always.

No, it doesn't feel like her style to involve the teachers. She doesn't seem to think too much of them, and she already said earlier that she thinks it's better to ignore this stuff. Still, coincidence or not, I know perfectly well that this school won't be any better than my old one when it comes to this kind of thing. Even if it's the class president, I can't see the teachers doing much about Sabrina being followed and dragged online, other than holding some stupid assembly or something.

Towards the end of first period, a folded up piece of note paper lands on my desk.

Blaine.

How did Sabrina come to this conclusion before class was even over? There'd been no time to talk to anyone.

"He really wasn't lying about putting the photo on the board," Sophie says, reading over my shoulder. "She's guessing."

I can't blame her for the guess. After all, Blaine was the first name that popped into my head yesterday, too. Who else has such an obvious beef with Sabrina? I glance up at Sophie. Anyone looking at me would think I'm looking out the window, hopefully, and not just staring aimlessly into space like an idiot.

Sophie pouts. "Don't look at me like that! Sabrina's a pill, but you're my best friend. I wouldn't lie about anything important to you, Clark," she says, turning a glare in Sabrina's direction. "Even if it's a load of baloney."

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Don't you start!" she snaps, even though class is still going and I can't say anything directly to her for the moment. "So what if she gave me a present? She's just trying to butter me up so I let my guard down."

I raise the other eyebrow. Hopefully that gets across my question as to what Sabrina would need Sophie to let her guard down for. I have to admit, riling Sophie up is a nice break from thinking about this stalker business.

"Who knows what dark machinations are going on in that wicked skull? Also, she's a brat!"

I don't say anything.

Sophie would be beet red if she had any blood available. Instead, her face flushed a shiny silver. "Ugh! This conversation is over!"

"Clark." My head jerks back to face the front of the room, where the teacher is staring at me. At least, I think she is? It's hard to tell through the sunglasses she wears in the morning. "I asked what is the next step for this problem," she says, tapping her chalk next to a line of algebra on the board.

"Hmm?"

There's a chorus of muffled giggles around me. The target of the day has temporarily moved from Sabrina, to Zeke, and now to me.

"Judging by your homework scores, you would know if you weren't staring out the window." The math teacher always sounds as if she's had a long day. Never mind that this is first period.

"Sorry, ma'am," I say, straightening in my seat. "There was a bird outside acting crazy, and I got distracted."

Next to me, Sophie lets out an offended "Hmph!"

There's a shift in the giggles, not unlike when Sabrina had roasted Zeke. Maybe I could reinvent myself this year into a class clown? I'm not all that funny, I don't think, but it'd be something other than melting into the background like Sabrina claims I do.

Sabrina raises her hand, and with an air of inevitability the teacher calls on her so that she can, of course, correctly answer the question.

"Teacher's pet," Sophie sniffs disdainfully. It sounds a little forced, though. Like she's having to remind herself she dislikes Sabrina.

Going through the motions of taking notes for the rest of the class, I think about Mr. Ramirez's story. I'm still unsure what to do about this stalking situation, but listening to Sophie grumble to herself about all the ways Sabrina is horrible to herself, I can't help grinning a little.

"And she's overbearing," Sophie goes on, muttering, "and rude, and I don't like the color of her hair!"

At least the two friends I've made so far are both on their way to being friends, too. That's good.