𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 | 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢

𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Matt rolled over and smashed his head between a pair of pillows in an attempt to block out the sound of his blaring alarm clock. He refused to open his eyes and check the time since he already knew it was four a.m. He groaned as his father gave a warning knock on his bedroom door, but he listened to the implied instruction and pulled himself out from under the warmth of his blankets.

An hour later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of the car as his father drove the pair of them to school. Like just about every other day, the ride was silent, and the roads were equally dead. The moment that they entered the building, they split. His father went to his office, and he trudged down the hall toward his homeroom. From the moment that he sat down behind the desk, Matt began to drone through the motions of his day.

He only lifted his head from his sketchbook once, and that was the moment he heard her voice. Sure, some might have said he looked over at her because the fact that she was on a phone call in the middle of a quiz was distracting, but he'd finished that over ten minutes ago. No, the moment that he had looked over at Bethany Walker was the very same reason that his doodles suddenly had little hearts hidden in the corners of the page.

"It's been two hours since I've posted and he hasn't commented," Bethany complained, "He hasn't even liked it. You saw it."

"Yeah, gorge," her friend agreed, "I don't know what his problem is."

"Thank you. It's not like I post all the time, just enough to stay relevant," Bethany insisted, "But it's cute enough for Noah to at least—"

Her friend interrupted, "Hey, there's some rando behind you."

It probably wasn't good that the first semester of the school year was almost over and Matt still couldn't remember the name of their English teacher. Then again, he was usually too absorbed in his own world to pay attention to much else.

"Hi." Bethany greeted the English teacher.

"Hi," the teacher replied, obviously annoyed, "Bethany, did you just make a call during the quiz?"

"Yeah." Bethany nodded her head. "But I finished my quiz already."

"Oh, okay," the teacher sarcastically said before gesturing around the classroom, "Well, have you noticed that other people haven't?"

"So?"

"I'm sorry. Let me back up," the teacher feigned an apology, "You're aware there are other people in the world, right?"

"Look, you know, I'm dealing with something right now and trust me I'm no happier about it than you are," Bethany explained, "I'm having a crisis, and Lucinda, I mean, she's supporting me as a woman, and it feels like maybe you should too."

"Just hang up the phone," the teacher instructed.

"Okay, I'll wrap it up." Bethany turned back toward her phone.

"Bethany, hang it up now."

"Two minutes and we're done."

The teacher frowned. "And that's detention."

The bell rang and the class period was over. Matt wasted no time gathering his supplies. The rest of the class seemed to have a similar thought in mind as no one wanted to listen to the fight between student and teacher that continued afterward. Matt kept his head down and he quickened his pace toward his locker. Safely making it that far, he sighed with relief before remembering what his next block was. A pit of dread formed in his gut as he entered the gymnasium.

Moments later, he was running laps around the basketball courts beside one of the other loner kids. He wouldn't exactly call himself friends with Spencer Gilpin, but in the dog-eat-dog world of highschool someone had to watch their backs.

"All right, keep those arms pumping," Coach Webb instructed, "Let's go! Bethany, you're late."

Matt's head whipped around at the mention of her name. Thankfully, Spencer was too focused on not tripping over his own feet to notice. Matt casually made an attempt at conversation. "I, um, heard she broke up with that football guy."

Spencer seemed to chuckle under his breath, that or it was the asthma. "This could be your opening, Bentley."

Matt opened his mouth to object; however, Coach Webb threw out some new instructions. "All right, we're gonna practice catching and throwing. So partner up and grab a football. Let's move!"

After a moment of hesitation to catch their breath, Matt and Spencer moved over to the side to toss a football. However, Spencer slowly grew distracted. Although he was confused at first, Matt then noticed that the redhead standing off to the side had caught Spencer's attention.

"Martha. You can't play catch by yourself." Coach Webb waved Martha over. "Pair up. Come on. Let's go."

"No. No," Martha shook her head and hugged her arms around herself. "I'm good."

"You have to participate just like everybody else," Coach Webb insisted, "Otherwise, why are you even here?"

"It's a requirement," Martha replied.

"Martha—"

"I think it's pointless," Martha interrupted, "Gym class is not gonna get me into Princeton and I don't understand the obsession with throwing a ball into a hoop and touchdown, five points!"

"There's a lot wrong with that, but first of all," Coach Webb tried again to get her to join the rest of the class, "It's physical activity, which is good for you. With other people, also good for you. And if you try it, you might even have some fun."

"Fun. That's what we're doing here? Fun?" Martha scoffed. "This is school. We are supposed to be learning things that actually matter. We don't have a lot of time in this life, and I personally don't wanna waste it on being, like, a... gym teacher."

Matt and Spencer glanced at one another as Martha quickly regretted her choice of words.

"That. That came out wrong."

"Yeah, it sure did." Coach Webb nodded in agreement. "That's detention."

"That was hard-core," Matt muttered under his breath.

Spencer nodded in agreement. "Badass."

The gym doors opened.

"Spencer Gilpin!"

Both Matt and Spencer looked over in confusion. However, without another word, Spencer was led out of the gym and down the hall.

"Great," Matt muttered under his breath, "There goes my partner..."