Shattered (Book Four)

Chapter 12: Asking A Girl Out

After Uncle Seth dropped me from school, I headed to my locker and saw Jerry across the hallway, talking to his friends. As usual, he was still wearing that stupid football jersey, no matter how many times the teachers had to convince him that everyday wasn't a pep rally.

Deep down inside, I think he was just doing this to show off. I opened my locker then placed my lunchbag above my neat stack of textbooks. With the new quarter approaching, everyone had to buy new textbooks.

Today, practically everyone needs to start the day with Consumer Math, English 3, and other subjects you would see in an SAT test. The Consumer Math and Government History were the only two books that were easy enough to fit in my bag.

Just when I was about to close the door, I heard a small laugh behind me. It turns out to be Jerry and his stupid buddies. Rolling my eyes, I lifted my backpack up to my shoulder then made my way into Mrs. Crabby's classroom.

Ever since the museum explosion, Jerry is still bugging me about what happen. When his minions weren't there, he cornered me to my locker unless I tell him who Zach is and why I ditch school.

I guess he was jealous that Hermione Granger gets to leave wherever she wants while Dumbo stays in school. Or maybe it was because I showed Jerry the pictures of him and Chelsea together and threaten to tell Isabel.

The world may never know. As soon as I got inside, I set my backpack beside the back desk and sat next to Paige, whose busy jotting down notes. Jared was nowhere to be found.

I didn't understand what was going on with Jared. I made a mental note to  find out for myself after school. But just then, Jerry set his things on the ground and sat next to me. On cue, Paige and I glared at him for a while.

"What are you doing here?" Paige snapped. Jerry brushed the pencil shaving off his desk coolly then glanced at her. "I thought Mrs. Crabby didn't assign any seating arrangements." Paige crinkled her nose at him and scowled.

Our math teacher, Mrs. Crabby, came with her files and pens clutched against her plump bosom. She wore a purple pantsuit, matching glasses,  black church shoes, and had her hair into a massive beehive.

After she cleared her throat, she tells us all to turn to the beginning of chapter one and had us multiply percents and cash. While most of the class was writing the answers on paper, I thought back to the memory of the Chinese box.

Even though the antique store owner is not the perpetrator, how was there cash and drugs in the container? Why did Ghenghis Khan stole it anyway? I think I need to go to the store and look for more clues.

Suddenly Paige interrupted my thoughts,  wanting to know what the answer to the third equation is. I worked out the problem with her then started on my classwork. Someone tapped on my shoulder again, but this time it wasn't Paige: it was Jerry.

He tapped my shoulder constantly, making me want to break his arm again. After the sixth time, I finally looked at him. "What do you want?" I hissed. Jerry looked back, appalled at my vicious comment.

"What is the answer to number twenty?" he asked in a hushed tone. I cut my eyes at him then jabbed my finger at the unfinished work. Jerry stared at it blankly. "I haven't finished it yet," I sighed, glancing down at my textbook.

"Really?" he teased. "I thought you have the answers to everything, especially the answer to what happened-" "Forget it, Jerk." I interrupted, filling my paper with my responses.

"Everyone is scared," he whispered. "Mrs. Triton is dead, the bomber hung himself, and the last time I had checked, you were acting-" "Ms. Hamilton?" a scratchy voice said. I looked up to see Mrs. Crabby, crossing her arms at Jerry sternly.

"Yes, Mrs. Crabby?" I asked quietly. "Is Jerry bothering you?" she questioned. Desperate to focus on my homework, I nodded while Jerry gave me a menacing look. "Mr. Terrence," Mrs. Crabby sighed. "Move somewhere. Now." Giggles came from every side of the room, with the exception of Isabel and her friends.

Sighing, Jerry packed his things and reluctantly sat next to his girlfriend, Isabel. With Jerry gone, I managed to finish my assignment and hand it over to Mrs. Crabby. With a small smile, she grasped her beefy hand on my paper then set it on my desk. I smiled sully at my math teacher then disappeared along with my classmates.

As I reached to my locker, I took out my math textbook from out of my bag then replaced it with my English. But just when I was about to leave, I saw a few classmates surrounding Mrs. Triton's old classroom. Ever since the tragic death of our history teacher, the principal is looking for someone to take her place.

As Washington High is recovering from the museum explosion, students were regretting their ruthless feelings towards Mrs. Triton, wishing that she can come back. Someone was so depressed that she decided to cover Mrs. Triton's old desk with lavender flowers, sweet smelling candles, and class photos. 

The ironic part was, that someone is me, Cleo Hamilton. Because of my incident, everyone began laying flowers, lighting candles, and letters. Mrs. Triton's desk was like a treasure trove of happiness. It happened so quickly that the janitor couldn't bear the thought of cleaning it up.

Every time I walked pass Mrs. Triton's history classroom, I thought of her ghastly happy face appearing when she looks at her once great room. I hope she is okay, I thought. Class by class, I finished all of my homework, answered some questions, and even received praises from my science teacher for reciting the periodic table alphabetically.

But when it was time for lunch, I saw Jared sitting by himself, eating his poorly made tuna salad sandwich. As much as I wanted to focus on the box case, I went up to him and asked him if he's okay. Nervously, Jared looked up from his sandwich then nodded. "Where were you, anyway?" I asked, sitting in front of him.

"I was at home," Jared answered, blushing incredibly. "I got sick." I crossed my arms in disbelief. "Seriously?" I sighed. "You could have told me! I was worried sick about you!" Jared tilted his head at my words. "You were worried?" he asked. "Duh," I answered. "That's what friends do!"

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I was sick." I let out another sigh then told it that it was okay. Jared looked at me with longing eyes. "Hey Cleo," he began shyly. "Yeah?" I asked, sipping my waterbottle. I saw his cheeks turning even redder than before. I wanted to ask Jared if he was okay, until he asked me the most awkward question I have ever heard. "Do you...want to go out with me?"