My Bad Day

By Chillhouse

I remember that day clearly. It was the day after the weekend when Chrissy had gotten me those pink, fuzzy handcuffs for my birthday. It was joke; I’m not actualy into that kinky stuff.

I was sitting in math class, trying to do the work the teacher had just assigned us, when that weird kid with the glasses turned around and stared at me. I mean, I couldn’t tell if he was actualy looking at me, because he sat at the front of the class and I sat at the back, but I could sort of see him looking at me from the corner of me eye. I was trying to pretend not to notice it. When someone turns around and stares at you in the middle of class, you aren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Especially when it’s someone creepy like this guy.

I kind of got the feeling he was admiring my body. I wanted to glare into his beady, little eyes and shout, “What, you’ve never seen boobs before?” But that’s just not something you can do in class. Heck, I didn’t even know his name. He never talked or anything. Just sat there and did his work. He had a 98 overall average, I had heard once. Pfft, nerd.

He was really starting to creep me out, though. He hadn’t stopped starring at me for the past 5 minutes. I sneaked a glance at him, and that confirmed my suspicions. There was no doubt about it; he was starring right at me. Did he like me or something? Too bad for him, he’d never get a chance with me. I was a member of the cheerleading squad. Way too good for that geek. And –