Read When the World was Flat (and we were in love) for Free Online Page B

on?” Sylv asked with a smirk.
    â€œShut up,” I begged. “I hate him. He hates me. End of story.”
    â€œSounds like a love story to me.”
    â€œJo,” I warned.
    â€œOr a porno.”
    â€œSylv!”
    But Sylv was on a roll. “Starring Lillie and Tom,” she crowed.
    I heard a titter behind me and turned to see Melissa passing our table, giggling like her sides would split out of their Spanx. Next to her was Tom. His expression was as somber as a funeral director’s as usual, but his complexion was flushed, the color highlighting his cheekbones.
    I think I would have welcomed the man in the balaclava with open arms in that moment, but the girls were in hysterics. Sylv had tears running down her cheeks, streaking her make-up.
    I forced myself to smile, stretching my lips as wide as I could, even though I wanted to follow my ball of twine back to at least five minutes ago.
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    A double period of art studies that afternoon should have cheered me up, but when I showed Mr Hastings my photos of Sylv he said, “Good, but overexposed.” Ugh. He sounded just like Tom.
    â€œListen up,” he announced to the class as I slumped in my seat. His voice was like a whisper above the commotion of the classroom, but he continued to talk regardless, his care-factor below zero.
    If anyone hated Green Grove more than me and the girls, it was Mr Hastings. From what I understood, he had been born here, but had moved to New York in his early twenties to become a professional photographer. His star had burned bright in that decade with his work exhibited in the Guggenheim and two books under his belt, which were now fifteen years out of print. Sylv had bought me a couple of copies online.
    â€œThe theme for your major work is ‘Identity,’” Mr Hastings droned. “Make of it what you will. And you need to partner up. The school board wants you to learn about teamwork.”
    There was a collective groan and murmurs of “Really?” and “Is he on meds?” The class was made up of a mixture of social outcasts, who preferred their own company.
    I looked around, putting together a blacklist of potential partners. There was Kate, the emo-slash-goth, who produced nothing but black canvases with a variety of dead insects glued to them: potentially a serial killer. Next on my not-to-do list was Darnell, the comic book nerd who liked to draw Manga. Hang on. Let me translate that for you – he liked to draw half-naked women with big breasts and short skirts. And then there was Jenna, who could make your ears bleed with her non-stop talk about fairies.
    I should blacklist myself too, I thought, as my tongue touched my chipped tooth. Lillie, the girl who thought her dreams were reality.
    I turned down two candidates, before we realized there was an odd number in the class.
    Please. Please. Please, I silently willed Mr Hastings, as he tapped his pen on his desk. He paused and his mouth opened. I thought I was off the hook. I really did. In my mind, he said, “Lillie will have to do this one on her own.” But what he actually said was, “Lillie will have to team up with Kate and Dirk.” His pen fell to his desk like a guillotine, as he stood up to go have a cigarette.
    I grabbed my bag and stalked across the classroom, pulling out the seat next to Dirk. A split second decision by my teacher was going to ruin this class for the rest of the year.
    â€œAre you into Manga?” I asked curtly.
    He shook his head. “Dungeons and Dragons.”
    â€œOf course.”
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    On the walk home, Jo seemed to know not to mention the T-word. Maybe it was because my face burned like a lighthouse beacon whenever I thought about the porno incident or maybe it was because I was kicking pebbles across the pavement with such force that they bounced at head height. I could have taken an eye out.
    Of course, it could have also been because I was talking over the top