We Shouldn’t Be Together (We Shouldn’t Be Texting #1)

Chapter 1

“Mrs. Field, you’re being completely unfair,” Camila complains.

She takes the lead as I awkwardly stand behind her.

What’s new?

Cammy always takes the lead.

Mrs. Field doesn’t budge. “Unfair?” she echos. “No, ladies. What I think is unfair is how you two use my classroom as your personal gossip center and disrupt the entire class.”

Camila scoffs. “They only listen to us because they’re bored.”

“No, it’s because you, Miss Garcia, have a voice that’s hard to ignore,” Mrs. Field says bluntly.

Cammy grunts, slamming her hands on her hips. “Can you really talk to me like that? You know who my father is, right?”

Mrs. Field’s eyebrows raise in a did-you-just-say-that-to-me kind of way.

“Mrs. Field,” Cammy continues, “I don’t think it’s fair to blame us for your entire class getting off track. Maybe if you taught something less boring, they wouldn’t have to turn to me for entertainment.”

“Miss Garcia,” our chemistry teacher says with an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t up for discussion. From now on, I’m separating you and Tabitha in my classroom. And if you ever speak to me in this tone again, you’ll be up for a month of detention.”

Cammy scoffs, popping her hip in indignation.

Mrs. Field stands her ground. “Am I clear?”

Cammy grabs her books from the nearby lab bench where she slammed them down mere minutes ago. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “Can we go?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Field says, stepping aside. “I don’t want you to be late for your next class.”

Camila makes more grizzled noises and then stomps out of the room. Without making eye contact with our teacher, I follow my friend out of our chemistry classroom.

When we get into the hallway, it’s almost empty, with most students already having made it to their next classroom.

Thank goodness there wasn’t another class filing into the chemistry lab while Mrs. Field was going off on us.

That level of mortification would have had me sinking into the floor with no hope of retrieval.

“That absolute cow!” Cammy yells once we’ve passed two more classrooms. “If she thinks she won’t pay for speaking to me like that, she has another thing coming.”

“You’re gonna tell your dad about it?” I ask, my mouth inexplicably drying. “When did he get back from his honeymoon?”

At that, Cammy halts in place, making me almost trip at the abruptness. Next second, she’s jabbing a pointed finger just below my shoulder. “What’s wrong with you, Tabitha?”

“Me?” I gasp. “What are you talking about?”

“Why the heck were you on mute back there? Couldn’t you at least stand up for me for half a second?”

“I… I didn’t know what to say,” I stammer the truth.

“You tell her she’s out of line. Like, what even, Tab? I thought you were my friend.”

“I am,” I wheeze. “I was right there with you. She went off on me too.”

“I can never rely on you.” There’s a coldness in her stare that makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. “How on earth will you make this up to me?”

I gulp hard. “I’m sorry. But, umm… You know, I heard Clint has been ditching classes to mope.”

Camila lights up with glee. “Really?”

I nod at the half-truth. Cammy’s ex-boyfriend has been skipping classes, but I haven’t heard he’s the least upset about their breakup. “How could he not be cut up when he no longer has you in his life?”

“Oh, this is excellent.” She licks her lips, and her scheming grin changes her mood. “If he ditches classes, his coach will bench him from football games. Football is his life.”

“That’s probably because of how much he’s hurting without you.” I watch the wonder in her eyes as she revels in her ex’s misfortune. “So, are we good?”

“Pfft.“ She looks down her nose at me. “Why? Did you break up with him for me?”

The contents of my stomach settle. I hate when she’s mad at me. It feels like the world will swallow me whole every time she gives me that bone-chilling look. “Umm, no, but…”

“Thanks for the info, Tabby. But why were you hiding it from me?”

My mouth falls open, too stunned to answer.

Cammy winks. “At least if we’re separated in chemistry, I don’t need to worry about you stabbing me in the back.”

“Stab…” I cut myself off, unable to finish the word due to shock. “I… I didn’t do that. Cammy, Mrs. Field was angry at both of us. And as far as Clint is concerned…”

“Stop bringing up his name.” Cammy folds her arms and shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, I guess you wanted to keep any news about him from me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Look, back in chemistry, you could’ve made up an excuse for us.” Cammy huffs and stamps her foot. “I know you can think of your feet, Tabby. You left me high and dry. Ugh. How’s my hair?”

It takes me so off-guard I barely give her a second glance. “It’s fine.”

“Pfft. Just fine?“ she grumbles and marches off ahead of me.

I’d walk if my jaw weren’t dead weight on the floor. Is she for real? She was arguing with our teacher, doing the you-know-who-my-father-is routine. When was I supposed to speak up? If I had said something, she’d be roasting me about how bad a job I did and that I should’ve shut my trap.

The only highlight is her asking me about her hair. It’s basically what she keeps me around for; hair, makeup, and jewelry advice.

I dawdle behind her on the way to phys-ed. I really should catch up and kiss her shoes until she forgives me. But I need to dismantle the bomb inside my head before I’m catatonic for the rest of the day.

“What the heck took you guys so long?” Yvette complains, waiting for us in the hallway outside the girls’ locker room. “You know I hate going in there alone.”

She stands in her regular Ashworth Academy uniform we all wear. Navy blue blazer over a crisp white blouse with a navy neckerchief. Our pleated skirts are navy and royal blue tartan, our socks are white, and our shoes are shiny black leather.

“Our stupid chemistry teacher went berserk and held us back after class,” Cammy replies.

Yvie smirks. “Why?”

With folded arms, Camila turns my way. “You wanna tell her, Tabby?”

“We were talking in class,” I mutter, stopping in front of them. “Mrs. Field was totally out of line.” I sigh and make eye contact with Camila. “You should have seen how she went off on Cammy. I was so shocked I couldn’t even speak up.”

Camila rolls her eyes and turns to Yvette. “Tabby never stood up for me. She let Mrs. Field humiliate me.”

Yvie’s chin drops. “Why’d you do that, Tabby?”

“I told you,” I murmur. “I was in shock.”

Yvie giggles. “Remind me never to have you back me up in a fight.”

“Girls!” our phys-ed teacher, Coach Oliver, calls out. Her whistle sways from her neck. “Why aren’t I seeing gym uniforms?”

We bustle into the locker room on the other side of the hallway, before Coach Oliver waddles further out of the gym. Inside, there’s only three girls left. The usual suspects who’ll do anything to get out of gym class. Tanya, Bronte, and Rochelle.

Easy pickings.

“Oh my gosh, Cammy,” I whisper harshly, eyeing off Rochelle’s haphazard braids. “Was Rochelle’s hair done by a weed whacker? Like, what’s going on there?”

Taking the bait, Camila shoots a glance over her shoulder. Her shoulders jiggle and she snorts at her next victim. “Hello Rochelle, nice hairstyle. Where can we learn how to do that? Do we need a trip to Home Depot?”

Rochelle and the other two girls look at each other, telepathically agreeing extended time in the locker room is no longer a safe bet.

Bronte clears her throat, cupping a hand around her left ear. “Oh, shoot. I hear Coach Oliver screaming her lungs out. We'd better book it.”

Tanya rushes tying her shoelace, which thirty-seconds ago was taking her an eternity, and she scrams with the other two girls.

Dang it. That didn’t last nearly long enough.

Ever since Cammy’s dad moved out of their house, she’s been harder and harder to deal with.

In the past, we could laugh things off. We were in sync.

I never imagined not being friends with her.

Now, I feel like I’m drowning. Nothing is ever good enough.

The only solace I get is in pointing out the flaws of other girls, hoping Cammy will praise me for it.

I’m not proud of it. Deep down, I don’t want to be insulting my peers. But what choice do I have? If not them, it’s me.

Heck, when no one else is around, it is me.

I shudder at the thought.

It’s so much worse when no one else is around.

Nope, I’m getting my reprieve. Someone else is taking the bullet so I can breathe.

Maybe if I continue to describe Rochelle’s styling disaster, it’ll fuel Camila enough to forget about me and my so-called back-stabbing for the next forty minutes in the gym.

After we get changed and enter the gym, our class bunches around Coach Oliver as she drones on about the drills we’ll practice today. Two jock girls are dragging over a large netted bag of basketballs, and I immediately check my still-perfect manicure. Ugh. This is one way to ruin my day.

Camila huffs beside me, grimacing at our teacher.

Okay, a chipped fingernail is on a long list of ways to ruin my day.

Across from us in this sea of gym uniforms, Tanya, Bronte, and Rochelle bunch together for safety.

An unsettling ripple jostles my stomach as I weigh up my targets against me and my friends.

Three-on-three are not great odds. Maybe, if we stray Rochelle from the herd, I’d have a better shot at dodging Camila’s wrath.

My only hope is Coach Oliver dividing us into teams and splitting up these girls.

Heck, I’d settle for if she divided me from my friends.

But we’re not divided into halves. Coach Oliver has us break into small groups. I wish she’d take Mrs. Field’s lead and separate friends from each other, but she doesn’t. She has us decide our groups of five. Ugh. I’m stuck with both of my friends.