The Bullet List (The Saving Bailey Trilogy, #1) by Nikki Roman Page B

in right behind me. I’m too emotionally and physically drained this morning to raise hell, luckily for her. Clad, however, looks like he’s been rolling around in a bed of daisies, with the sun beating down its hot rays, and warming him from the inside out.
    “Why so chipper?” I ask.
    “Chipper? I don’t know. I’m just in a really good mood. I’m really looking forward to going clubbing with you,” he says, revealing the truth behind his jubilant expression. Uh-huh. I knew something was up .
    “It’s no big deal,” I say, making light of it. “I dance all the time, so what’s so huge about dancing with a best friend of mine?”
    His cheery face falters. “Yep, just two besties dancing the night away,” he says caustically.
    Mrs. Latcher calls my name for attendance.
    “Present,” I say, like a smart-ass.
    “Present as well,” Clad says when his name is called.
    Mrs. Latcher stacks a bunch of tests together in a neat pile and drinks some coffee before starting class.
    “Good morning class,” she says in a matronly tone. “I have your tests graded from last week; many of you did not receive above a sixty, which is really disheartening for me because I thought I taught the chapter very well.”
    “You did do a very good job of teaching it,” Nessa speaks out of turn. “It’s just that some people don’t know how to respect a well-taught lesson, and would rather sleep through class.”
    Mrs. Latcher nods her head at Nessa. “Very right you are,” she commends her, and passes me my test.
    At the top of the paper circled in red, is a whopping thirty-two percent mark. I could throw up. My grade is definitely slipping, and with it my much-needed light. I can’t sleep when it’s dark, I can’t eat, drink, think or breathe when it’s dark .
    I turn around and ask Clad, “What grade did you get?”
    He smiles peevishly. “A negative five.”
    “Is that even possible?” I ask in bewilderment.
    “It is when you don’t write your name,” he says.
    “You didn’t put a name on your paper?” I chuckle.
    “I forgot, I was so nervous I was going to fail,” he says staring at his paper with hatred in his eyes.
    “Well, you had good reason to be nervous then,” I say.
    Mrs. Latcher finishes passing out all the tests, and the class finishes moaning over their grades. The rest of the period passes slowly by with Latcher ranting about our low test grades, and how if we don’t all get higher than a B on our next test, we are going to have to do loads of homework every night . Fantastic, I never do the homework anyway .
    I pack my bag up a couple of minutes before the bell rings, and Mrs. Latcher throws me a warning glare. Clad taps me on the shoulder to show me he is laughing at how stupid her face looks.
    “Such a grouch,” he says when we are walking in the hall to Biology.
    “She needs to take a chill pill,” I grump.
    Mr. Wiggan is standing outside his classroom door, and waving happily as kids pass him by. He looks pleased to see Clad and I.
    I have one foot in the door when someone shoves me from behind, so hard that I fall, spilling my bag’s contents.
    “Hey!” Clad and Mr. Wiggan yell out together.
    I look up just in time to see Cecil and Nessa laughing their way down the hall.
    “What the fuck!” Clad yells, forgetting he is standing only two feet from the teacher.
    “Watch it,” Mr. Wiggan says, before letting him off with a warning.
    Clad helps me up by my arm, then picks up the scattered books from my bag.
    “You alright?” he asks.
    My knees and elbows are bruised, and my ego as well, but I am still intact.
    “Yeah, I didn’t see them coming,” I say, brushing my hair back from my face.
    “Me neither.” He hands me an armful of my belongings and I drop them back into my bag.
    “They’ve got it out for me.”
    “Yeah they do,” Clad says, scowling.
    Mr. Wiggan lets the door shut behind him, takes in the number of kids in the room, and exhales. “Well more than last