Chapter 5: I Hate Carrots

"Sophie, we need to talk." I've never spoken to the girl who's speaking to me now. Her name is Laurie Astamkar, I know this because she's one of the "popular" ones. She's small and flat as a board, but she has zero body fat and a beautiful face with very big eyes and pouty lips.

Unlike Ashley, she doesn't give off the obvious bitchy vibe, but for me, it's enough to look into her oversized eyes to find the bitch she hides inside.

I slowly chew the bite I just bit off my sandwich and swallow, letting her sudden interference in my lunch break hover in the air between us.

"Do I know you?" I go for my usual move, establishing my dominance in this conversation by demonstrating to the other side that they had failed to come into my notice. I don't care how rude I sound. If she wanted to speak to someone nice, she should have chosen Esmeralda.

Laurie's jaw briefly grinds in annoyance, but to her credit, she masks that quickly. "I'm Laurie. We have AP English together."

"Okay," I say, but offer nothing else. I continue eating my sandwich.

Laurie stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to ask her what's so important that she was forced to break a three-year-long truce of ignoring each other for. When it becomes obvious I have no intention of making this any easier on her, she sits next to me on the low concrete wall and twists her face into an elaborate expression of concern.

"Everyone's saying horrible things about you, Sophie," she says with the slightest tremor in her voice. "I don't think you're that type of person. It isn't fair."

I put my sandwich in my lap and turn to regard her. I see the doubt lurking in the shadows, threatening to shatter her courage. Not two minutes into the conversation, and already nothing is going as she expected.

I can't say I'm not enjoying this. I'm something of a sadist. I let the set of my face soften. "It's all true, though," I say, and then toss my hair, grinning. "Why should I be ashamed of it?"

Laurie's big eyes grow even bigger. She came digging, and she has just hit gold with very little effort. "You mean, you and Shawn—"

"Oh yes." I lean in close to whisper in her ear. "I hit him with a rolled-up magazine . . . And he loved it."

Laurie's obviously intimidated by my invasion of her personal space. She leaps off the wall, her face a deep crimson. "Oh my God, really?" Her voice is high. She's trying to make her embarrassment look like excitement.

Did they have to send the only girl in their pack who has "virgin" written all over her? Apparently, Laurie isn't as popular as I thought. If I actually cared, I would wonder what Ashley blackmailed her with.

I look at her, giving her a firm stare, the kind of look I know sets most people on edge.

Then I start laughing. Laurie hovers there, at a loss. By the way her face grows a little bitter, she knows I'm laughing ather.

"What's so funny?" she asks with a slight smile.

"There's a spider on your shoulder," I answer.

Laurie screams, jumping and smacking her arms and shoulders. "Getitoff! Getitoff!" she shouts desperately. "Is it in my hair?"

I let her go on like this for a moment longer, watching her dance and shriek.

"Just kidding," I say.

It takes a second for my words to sink in. Her face is red again, but this time from humiliation and anger. She edges away from me. "Nice talking to you, Sophie," she says with open resentment, but then perks up, forcing a smile on her face.

I barely have time to wave before she's gone back to her friends. And to report to Ashley.

I watch her leave. There's a spider scurrying up the leg of her jeans. I was kidding about kidding about the spider.

Sophie Green 1, Ashley Glick 0.

I continue munching my sandwich. It's the delicious chicken sandwich my mom always makes with the perfect amount of mustard and the crunchiest lettuce. I can't say I'm as enthusiastic about eating it as I was before. If I'm perfectly honest with myself, this whole day has been exerting.

I like to be alone.

I like it that when I'm in a crowd of people, I'm actually still completely alone.

I like the silence in my mind and to feel nothing about anyone. It's sweet, simple, and addictive.

If I didn't like it as much as I do, I wouldn't be the way I am. There was no inciting incident to my own personality. No trauma, no turning point, just me growing up to be me.

I always eat lunch here alone on the low concrete wall behind the amphitheater. It's a place forever in the shadows, and nobody comes near because it's crawling with spiders. Even Esmeralda doesn't want to come here.

I don't mind the spiders; they're actually kind of cute.

I re-wrap what's left of my sandwich in the cling film and watch a single spider hurry by my sneaker.

"You treat your classmates like your enemies, Sophie Green," says a deep, gravelly, accented voice behind me.

Not him again. I turn my head and to stare at Landon Hotness Pearce right in the face.

This doesn't quite have the effect I intend. I feel a weakness at the root of my spine as chestnut eyes too beautiful to be real bore into mine.

I continue staring. It's like watching a train wreck and being unable to look away.

I try to say something, but fail on the first attempt. My tongue flops like a dead thing in my mouth.

This won't do. "What're you after?" I push the words out. Maybe I come off a lot more forceful than I want to, but I'm behaving like some primal mammal in heat, and even if that's exactly what I am, he doesn't need to know this.

He grins at me and looks like he knows everything I'm thinking. He probably does. If I'm like this, how would the average girl behave when faced with so much condensed beauty?

"I'm after a bit of your company, Sophie Green."

Okay. Hot, but mega weird. "What's with all the 'Sophie Green'?"

"Isn't that your name?"

"Yeah," I say, "but you sound like Data from Star Trek when you say it like that."

"So how do you want me to call you?" he asks.

I'm so weirded out by this entire conversation that I almost suggest that he should just stick with either "Sophie" or "Green."

Luckily, I remember that I am, indeed, Sophie Green. "I don't want you to call me at all."

He mulls over my answer with a small grin on his lips. Then he inclines his head in my direction. "That's not an option, I'm afraid."

I should just walk away from this situation. There's nothing forcing me to continue sitting here, and there are still fifteen minutes left for break.

"Carrots?"

"What?" I snap.

He shakes his head in disagreement with himself, causing his mane of sun-bleached locks to bounce about his ears. "Calling you that would be demeaning, wouldn't it?"

"You're asking me whether calling me Carrots is demeaning? You seriously can't figure that out on your own?"

"Everyone tells me I'm muddle-headed."

I nod once.

"Not to be confused with stupid," he adds.

What the hell is this person? I'm baffled. My mind can't contain it. He's so ridiculous, I have the urge to laugh.

And, help me God, a little laugh escapes me.

He flashes me with a broad smile that is somehow hard to bear. I try to sober up. "Tell me, Sophie, why do you hate them?"

"Hate who?" The spell is broken. I suddenly have a stronger grasp over my own brain.

"Everyone."

"What's it to you?" I ask flatly.

"'Sophie Green, beautiful and smart but with the personality of a potential serial killer'—that's what people told me about you when I asked."

The description of me sounds pretty accurate. I like the part about the serial killer; it's a good thing people are afraid of me. "Whatever," is all I can say.

"Well, I find it interesting," he says, still wearing that smile of his. He leans toward me and comes close enough to touch. "If you were just sick in the head, you wouldn't have made all these steps to put yourself apart. You're deliberately pushing people away." He looks down at me in a way that would suggest that he knows what he's doing, like he's done this all before.

I can't say it doesn't work, either. My body responds violently even before my mind can begin to think. My hands want to press down on the hardness of those biceps, or to twine my fingers through his lovely hair.

Yes, I agree with myself. These are all perfectly natural desires to have. I may hate people, but I don't hate the thought of sex with them.

Still, it's not going to happen with this guy. Landon, whoever he is, looks like too much work and not worth the trouble.

I want to say something witty and clever in response to his comment. Instead, I do the stupidest thing in the world.

I throw my half-eaten chicken sandwich in his face.

Very mature, I know.

He looks from the sandwich back to me, wide-eyed. He wasn't expecting that—well, that makes two of us.

I don't give him time to respond. I stand up and bolt.