Instagram 2 || paxton hall-yoshida

17

FIFTEEN

It was Monday. And Ashlynn was late. Despite having set three alarms, she had slept through them all and she was regretting it more than anything.

Today was the day of the facing history test and if she hadn't spend half the night prepping, she wouldn't have been so rushed for time. She wanted to punch herself as she ran about, in and out of the shower in a matter of 10 minutes and out the door in another 10.

If she got lucky, she could just about make it before 9. She pleaded to whatever greater power there was that she would. She just couldn't afford to miss this test since that would be an immediate fail and given how consistent her grades had been, a shame that would be. Even more so because she had actually prepared.

The walk to school was a flustering one as she rushed, ignoring the ache that throbbed in her calf as she walked faster and faster. She would run, but she wasn't that desperate- actually...

Don't do it Ashlynn, don't do it.

She did, suddenly jerked by a bolt of energy she blurred past the people, clutching her chunky textbooks to her chest while her earphone was half falling out. The soles of her sneakers squeaked with effort as they began wearing out on the grey sidewalk. She wasn't sure how long it would take, but the stitch that began burning at the side of her stomach told her well enough that she was coming close to a burn out.

Oh gosh, it was really really burning and unwillingly, her pace begins to slow down as she runs out of breath. She really needed to get back to gym, the last time she had gone felt like a lifetime ago. Thankfully, she burnt out at the corner of the sidewalk outside Sherman Oaks and decided to walk the rest of the way, after sending a fleeting glance her phone.

She had 6 minutes left, her toxic trait being the assumption that she would get to facing history under that. Surprisingly enough, though, she did make it on time. Only after barging past the students and cliques that infested the corridor like a plague, though.

As she enters the classroom her eyes skim the room, sending a glance across each student but hesitating as it got to a particular green eyed, dark hair senior who stared plainly out the window, arm wrapped with fibreglass and plaster. As expected, the school heartthrob had felt the familiarity of her gaze and turned his head towards her. His expression was blank, not a flicker of familiarity as was hers. And then he rolls his eyes and looks away. It takes a moment to register in Ashlynn's head, had he just rolled his eyes at her? She pauses again, he really just rolled his eyes. She shakes her head and looks away.

And as Ashlynn is walking towards her desk, Shapiro calls her name and the 17 year old turns back to the eccentric history teacher with a querying glance on her face. Mr Shapiro gestures her towards him and then hands her the test papers, facing downwards.

She walks around the classroom in confident strides, placing the paper face down with a soft smile. When she's sure she hasn't missed anyone, she puts the remaining papers down on Shapiro's desk and walks back to her chair.

And then, the few mere moments before the test starts a hand shoots up from the back of the class that she only catches with the corner of eyes.

"Yes Paxton" Shapiro asks. Paxton sends a fleeting glance to Ashlynn, expression annoyed.

"I haven't got a quiz."

Oops.

✾ ✾ ✾

The quiz had been a breeze. If she had known it would be so easy, she wouldn't have stayed up half the night prepping. Mr Shapiro walks up and down each row, taking the papers off everyone's desk before he shuffles them together and throws them on his chair.

Given how quick the test had been, a matter of like 20 minutes, they still had just over an hour left and she wasn't too sure what they were going to do during the remaining half of the lesson. But she didn't need to know, because Shapiro animatedly began talking about a project.

A group project.

She could throw up.

"You will be doing a group project" and begins to elaborate on the criteria's and expectations. "...which you will then present to the class. Now I have taken it upon myself to allocate you into groups."

Okay, that's not too bad, she got everyone in the class and they all got on with her too. What could possibly go wrong?

Meanwhile, Paxton Hall Yoshida slouched at the back of the classroom, uninterested by whatever Shapiro was talking about. He just wanted to go home, facing history had become even more unbearable and he wasn't sure what to do. But he had to pass this semester, or he wouldn't get into College especially now that his scholarship prospects had been snatched away.

"And finally, the last group is Ashlynn, Emily...and Paxton."