Right. What is that girl's problem?

You turn and head right. The hallway is emptying out, and other student clear out of school for the day. Heading right towards you with an angry glare and clenched teeth is a petite black girl, with a wild shock of natural hair. She's wearing a white tee shirt that accentuates the curves of her pert, round breasts, and a pair of short shorts with long boots that draw your attention to her slender, toned legs. The final touch on her outfit is a black, spiked collar around her neck. You really can't appreciate her looks or fashion choices for too long though, because when she gets to you, she shoves you back into a bank of lockers.

"Listen," she hisses up at you, "I don't know what you think is going on with you and Tracey, you gawky freak. I can assure you — she's only using you as cover though. She's not really interested in you."

You hold up your hands in a gesture to show that you aren't fighting back against the tiny girl in any way. "Look. I don't know what you're talking about. But if it's about her kissing me in the cafeteria, why are you mad at me? She's the one who kissed me."

She pokes you in the chest. "I don't want to hear anything about it. I'm just warning you how it is. I mean, look at her, and look at you." She sneers. "You're gonna get hurt when you find out she's not really into you. I don't want you blabbing fake rumors around the school when you get crushed and are all butt-hurt."

A smirk curls your lip as you look down at the girl who's insisting that your enchanted **** is going to leave and hurt you. It makes you want to teach her a lesson. It turns out you're less nervous about talking to a girl, even one who looks like she wants to break your arm, now that you know you can do magic. "You mean a fake rumor like maybe she's a lesbian." You chuckle. "Turns out that one might be faker than you might think."

The girl looks shocked that you know, then even angrier when you say it isn't true. "Fucker!" she snarls. "You keep your mouth shut and stay away from Tracey. You're just gonna fuck her up." You notice a tear run down her cheek. She turns and stomps away.

Now you kind of wish that you had asked Tracey about the girls she's been with. It looks like at least one is jealous.

You know that the buses are about to head out. You could probably run and catch yours, or you could go see what Ms. Fellows wanted to talk to you about, then walk home. You'd still get home in time to meet Tracey at 3:30.