Bad boy girlfriend

To avoid getting bullied, I told the mean girls I was the school bad boy's girlfriend. From then on, I made sure to be seen around him every day, pretending we were close. One day, the leader of the mean girls dragged me to a secluded spot behind the bleachers. "Lying, huh? Bad boy's girlfriend, huh? Who are you trying to fool with all these lies?!" Suddenly, the bad boy himself, Jason, strolled out, hands in his pockets, and pulled me into his arms. "My girl? You wanna mess with her?"

1.

My homeroom teacher, Mr. Henderson, called me out into the hallway. "How would you feel about switching rooms with Sarah?"

Sarah was originally in room 302, but that room was full of mean girls. They'd burned her hair, slapped her, even held her down in the bathroom and forced her to drink dirty water. She couldn't take it anymore and reported it, but the school did nothing except offer to move her.

And the unlucky replacement? Me.

"You're here on a full scholarship, Emily. It wasn't easy getting into this school. We're having some trouble with room assignments, and as class president, you should set an example." Mr. Henderson laid it on thick.

It was obvious. Everyone else was rich and influential, with parents who could make the school’s life difficult. I was the poor, easy target.

If I went to 302, I’d end up just like Sarah, maybe even worse.

I spent the entire lunch period on edge, trying to figure out what to do. Then, Jason, our school's resident bad boy, swaggered in through the back door with his crew, slamming the door behind them.

An idea sparked.

Jason was six-foot-one, with the kind of edgy good looks that screamed trouble. He was a man of few words, but those words usually packed a punch.

If he could walk me to 302, even just once, the mean girls would have to be at least a little nicer to me, at least for a few days.

I grabbed my finished English worksheet and walked over to Jason, placing it in front of him. "Here's today's homework."

Jason, engrossed in his phone game, barely glanced up. I pushed the paper closer. He looked like he was about to tear it up, but then noticed it was already completed. He finally looked at me.

I kept my gaze downcast. "Jason, Mr. Henderson wants you to help me move rooms this afternoon."

Jason paused, then silently nodded. The bad boy might smoke, get into fights, and have a questionable fashion sense, but in class, he was just another student. Helping a girl move wasn't embarrassing, especially when she'd bribed him with a finished worksheet.

That afternoon, I led Jason, carrying my bags and boxes, to room 302. I inserted the key and opened the door. Brittany, the queen bee of the mean girls, sat on a chair, surrounded by her posse, like some kind of kangaroo court.

"Emily, right? In 302, you follow my rules."

I’d anticipated this. I gasped softly and stopped in the doorway.

"Why'd you stop? Let's go." Jason, nonchalantly carrying my stuff, strode forward.

The mean girls froze.

"What rules? Can ...