Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

ning. After the day I’ve had I could run a hundred miles. Hey, it’s
cheaper than therapy.
Ms. T’s quiz had been more like a final exam. If I hadn’t read
every word of the assignment I would have flunked big time. I make
a mental note to thank Damian and Troy for the inside scoop.
“Look what the sympathy vote dragged in,” a syrupy voice says
when I walk into the locker room. A flurry of giggles erupt around
Adara.
Lifting my chin a notch, I stalk to my locker and spin the combination.
In these situations it’s always better just to ignore the
vicious cheerleader taunts. Witty retorts only wind up pissing them
off more.
“What’s the matter, kako?” She walks up beside me and plants
one Reebok-shod foot on the bench. “Afraid to tangle with a goddess?
Afraid you’ll lose?”
I clench my jaw, but still say nothing. Jerking my sweatpants out
of the locker, I fling them onto the bench—next to her foot—and
begin unbuttoning my jeans.
Out of the corner of my eye I see her lean down, blonde hair
swinging over her shoulders, and snatch up my sweats.
“Give those back,” I demand.
She stands up on the bench and holds them over her head.
“Come and get ’em.”
With a growl I leap up on the bench with both feet. Leaning
back, she holds the pants just out of my reach.
“Give them back,” I warn. “Or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Her lower lip pouts out and she flutters her eyelashes.
“You’ll call your daddy to take them from me?”
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