Forever Now (Forever - Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

wore jeans and a t-shirt announcing READ. He had round, wire-rimmed glasses that framed his big blue eyes. I could imagine he would be the object of a lot of high school girls’ fantasies. His syllabus wouldn’t help matters. Pride & Prejudice, Love Story, Romeo and Juliet . Mr. Lawrence was going to have to contend with a lot of lovesick seniors.
    The students shifted in their seats, opening binders and notebooks, clicking their pens and twirling their pencils. The girls wore itty-bitty miniskirts, Daisy Dukes, or tighter than tight jeans. The boys sagged or didn’t.
    There was a sad lack of acne and a surprising amount of designer bags. Zac Posen might call it “pedestrian,” but I called it “over my budget.”
    I was wearing jeans—normal ones, not tight—and a men’s white undershirt. I had pulled my hair back into a ponytail, as usual.
    I took out my binder and pencil and waited to take notes. Although I had already read everything on the reading list, I was still a fanatic about my grades. I didn’t know what grades the Sorbonne wanted, but I would be ready with A’s. Come on Mr. Lawrence, I thought, bring it on. Make my day.
    He started with attendance. About halfway through, he got to me. “Tess Parker,” he called.
    “Here,” I said, quietly and raised my hand.
    “You mean, Mess Parker,” Jillian Glass sneered, causing a wave of snickering throughout the class.
    I held my breath. “Mess” was one of the miseries I had lived with since second grade when I didn’t know how to brush my hair.
    I slumped down into my chair and waited for the snickering to stop. It wasn’t a great way to start my senior year. The other students turned to look at me, as if the world had turned inside out, the back had become the front, and I had become the teacher.
    I guessed they were trying to see if I really was a mess. I ran a self-conscious hand over my hair and fought a desire to close my eyes and run out of the room.
    I would have wished for a miracle to happen, something to draw the attention away from me, something to erase “Mess Parker” from my fellow seniors’ sadistic minds, but I didn’t believe in miracles. In my experience, miracles were like unicorns. Like the Abominable Snowman. Like a good Adam Sandler movie.
    Then, a unicorn pranced into the classroom.
    I mean, a miracle happened.
    The door burst open, and a wild creature marched through.
    She wore a pink tutu and black leggings with boots, a t-shirt, and lots of bangle bracelets. Her head looked like it had exploded but instead of brain bits, blond curls shot out in frizzy, manic spikes. Like they were trying to escape or attack anyone who came too close to her.
    She opened her large plastic purse and rummaged through it. Finally, she took out a scrap of paper.
    “Is this humanities?” she asked, reading from the paper.
    Then, her wallet fell out of her purse.
    And a tampon.
    All heads turned in unison from Mess Parker to the tampon on the floor. I was relieved but mortified for her. I couldn’t imagine her recovering from the tampon incident.
    It turned out that I didn’t need to feel sorry for her. She didn’t care in the least about revealing her Tampax Pearl Active Regular. She picked it up and looked at it like, “Oh, there it is” and tossed it back into her large purse.
    “I hope it’s humanities,” she continued, not embarrassed at all. “This is my third classroom. I can’t figure out the room numbers.”
    Mr. Lawrence stared at her with his mouth open, but no sound came out. The ticking of the clock grew louder. Then, the snickering resumed, but it was directed at her instead of me.
    She joined in with the laughter, not realizing or not caring that they were laughing at her.
    Finally, Mr. Lawrence remembered how to speak. “Take a seat, Miss--?”
    “Dahlia. Dahlia Sherman.”
    She smiled ear to ear and took a seat, fighting against her tutu, which was bigger than the chair. She stuffed the tutu under the desk, her