Physics means a lot of things.

When I think of physics, I think movement; therefore, I preferably think of late nights and tangled bedsheets in the morning with my favorite brunette. I do not, for example, think of how fast it would take Train A to reach Train B at Train Station Who-Gives-A-Fuck. Ms. Reynolds doesn't seem to get that, and I'm abruptly startled into rousing consciousness as I blearily look up from my desk.

"Mmm?"

"Miss Santos, I'd very much appreciate it if you caught up on sleep on your own time, not during my class," she quips, before strolling back to the front of the class to carry on about the importance of speed and other crap no one cares about. Ugh. Yeah? I'd appreciate it if you got laid sometime, you dried up piece of – what the hell?

I look behind me to see a certain girl studiously taking notes while her cheerbitch consultants 'study' their make-up in the mirror. Jesus Christ, she must be starved for intelligent conversation half the time. I unravel the crumpled piece of paper that was just tossed at my head, eyes scanning the message.

Sup, bitch? One too many late one night stands?

Rolling my eyes, I dig into my bag for a pen, scribble a reply, and aim it perfectly back.

If you're implying about my own nightly endeavors, I'd suggest you look in a mirror. Too much concealer, babe. Didn't your boytoy inform you, or was he too busy applying his lipgloss correctly?

I yawn, almost forgetting the exchange, before my head becomes victim to yet another bad throw. Or aimed perfectly … that's a plausible reason, too. I click my pen again, and our notes become my main form of entertainment while dear Reynolds drones on, apparently taking extreme measures to the phrase, 'I could die of boredom.' If only.

Very funny, you. And Peter and I, for the last time, are just friends. Not that I need to encourage your stalking capability.

I'd like to think so, thanks. Oh, is that so? Who's the stalker, girl with the eyes or boy with the camera?

…

Eloquent response there, Edwards. Almost poetic.

Eloquent? Someone learned a new word, did you look it up the dictionary all by yourself?

No, actually. I was marveling over my girlfriend's body one night- not that you need to know that detail, my favorite Bible thumper- and was thinking, hey, I should totally learn a new string of adjectives to describe how bangable she –

"Hey!" My declaration of outrage goes unnoticed by the teacher now currently reading the note, and it's with secondhand embarrassment (but mostly smug pride) do I notice her cheeks tinting pink. Did it give you a thrill, Reynolds? I mean, I didn't know it was as possible to be as dry as the Sahara in just your thirties, but…

"Detention, after school. You and Miss Edwards." What?

"What?" Darcy growls as she stands, pointing at me. "She started it!"

I whip back in my chair to give her a rivaled glare, so awesome her cheerbitch friends stopped shooting me the evil eye. Oh, well I'm sorryy I took your shopping companion. "Excuse me, Mother Mary?"

"She was distracting me with her unwanted attention. I couldn't finish my notes because she kept antagonizing me." She juts out her chin and looks defiantly superior. I raise my eyebrows.

"Antagonizing? Look, if you wanna make this World War III, we can, slut."

"I'm the slut?! How the hell do you get off – "

"Amazingly, if you wanna know so bad. Not that you would, personally, Miss Virgin For Life."

"Enough!" Ms. Reynolds' sharp interruption cutting into our heated moment, with most of the class perking up and whispering conspiracies on who'd win; like any other usual time, I might add. "That's lunch and after school detention now."

"But Miss Reynolds – "

"Who in the hell appointed you leader?"

She gives me such a look I don't think twice of talking back. "As far as leadership goes, I am in this classroom. Now, back to momentum…" She walks back to the front, eager to get the students back on track after that brief diversion of, I don't know, something worth paying attention to.

I hear the scrape of a chair that indicates Darcy sitting back down, and I slouch lower in my seat and huff, crossing my arms. Ugh, detention. I mean, it's with my girl so it won't be completely bad, but… I trail off in thought, vowing to stay mad as I feel her eyes staring into the back of my head.

I stay that way for all of three seconds before I cave.

With her cheer minions' heads buried in a Seventeen magazine, she mouths the words 'I love you.'

I flip her off before doing the same.