Obstacles

Chapter 1

Walking through the school, all thoughts are drowned out by the clip-clop of students' shoes on tile and each of their boisterous voices echoing through the halls. It's 7:15 on a beautiful, bright Monday morning and everyone seems too awake. I've been conscious for almost an hour now and I'm still having trouble forming sensible thoughts. All I can think is: Why am I awake?

After managing to slip through the sea of the Dartwell High student body and finding locker 317 for the hundredth time, I put in the combination and dig to find the correct books and papers to start the day. Pulling out my world history and AP Calculus textbooks, I throw them into my messenger bag before securing the straps.

I look up in time to see my locker slam shut. Stunned, I stand like a statue with my hand raised preparing to close an already shut door. A hand waves in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. I turn to face the intruder, only to find an oh so familiar face. My eyes darken along with my mood.

"What do you want, Harden?" I demand while referring to him by his last name, trying to get my point across that I wish to be left alone.

He holds his hands up to his shoulders, in an I surrender gesture. "Woah, woah. What's all this negativity about? I just wanted to say hi." I roll my eyes at his idiocy. He never just wants to say hi. I just stare at him expectantly for a few seconds. He lets out a deep sigh after a minute, looking away from my gaze. I grin triumphantly (on the inside), keeping my eyes trained on him. "Fine. I wanted to see if you wanted to get food at lunch with some of my friends."

I let out a small laugh. No way in hell. I quickly cover my mouth. I would get in so much trouble for that at home. But instead of saying that I said, "Nah, but thanks." The five minutes til class bell rang and I started walking toward the stairs. Unfortunately, Derek—I mean Dickbag doesn't understand the word no because he began following me to my first period class.

"Come on, Viv. Give it some more thought than that." It's kind of fun hearing Derek the dickbag beg, but it is too early in the morning to be making life or death decisions.

"My name is Vivian and going out with a few dudes I've known for less than a year is not worth risking the wrath of my brothers. Sorry." I tell him matter of fact. I make it a foot from Mr. Rhode's door when a hand wraps around my forearm, pulling me back. "Let me go, Harden." I tell him before looking up to stare into his pleading, hazel eyes.

"Think about it," he tells me, "Then I'll let you go." He's not kidding. I can't believe this dickbag is serious.

"Fine. I'll think about it." He smiles like a little kid who's been told they can have ice cream for dinner. I roll my eyes and dramatically spin, walking into first period seconds before the bell rings.

***

Third period, creative writing. My favorite class of the day. Ms. Riley is my favorite teacher. She was a family friend before I could talk and now she's like a surrogate mom to me. When my mom died, she came to my house and fixed me, my father, and my brothers meals and helped us around the house.

I step into her classroom with a smile on my face. "How's my favorite Davidson child?" She asks me as she writes an assignment on the board.

"Good. How's my favorite aunt?" I ask her, trying to match her enthusiasm.

"Great!" She finishes her task and pulls me into another of her monstrous hugs. When I am finally let go, I take a seat and watch as students file in. Most who take this class, wanted it, but there are a few who obviously don't want to be here. Those kids either can't stand Aunt Riley's energy and drop her class or they end up loving the class as much as those who signed up for it because of that energy.

The tardy bell rings and the door is shut. Immediately after, rows are scanned for absentees and class is started. Aunt Riley hates wasted time more than anything. When an announcement is made in the middle of her class, anger radiates from her and she stares lasers at the intercom until the announcement ends.

"Please take out your notebooks and write down this semester's prompt." Aunt Riley directs the class. Each semester, Aunt Riley gives us a prompt for a new story. This story has to be at least twenty pages long because of the extended time span and must be a descriptive version of the prompt given.

As I'm writing ideas for the assignment, my phone buzzes pulling me out of my creative high. I take my phone out and shield it from view before opening the message.

Harding: Decided?

Crap. I almost forgot. Lunch is half an hour away. My stomach is growling and I don't think I can digest cafeteria food today. But is it worth risking getting caught. For good food?

Heck yeah.

Me: I'm in.

Harding: Back door by the boys locker room.

I hope I don't regret this.