It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 7

He stands up and grabs his helmet. "Aww, you wanna hang out with me so bad." he jokes, messing up my hair.

"No." I whack his hand away. "I want a good grade. You just happen to be an obstacle." I point at him.

"Yeah right." he rolls his eyes.

"Riley! Let's go!" I hear the coach yell from the field.

I look over and see most of the team gathered by the fifty yard line.

"After practice," he says shortly. "And then you can hang out with me like you so desperately want to." he says in a sarcastic tone.

I know he's only repeating himself to get under my skin, and lucky him, it's working.

"Again, I don't want to hang out with you." I groan.

"Keep telling yourself that."

I roll my eyes, "I hope you break your leg." I mutter at him.

"I can break a lot of things Em." he smirks at me before walking away.

I take in a breath and scowl. Ew. I did not need to hear that.

I turn around and watch him jog over to his teammates. Shaking my head I walk all the way back up to school for yearbook club.

I hope we can just get this over with.

~~~~~

Yearbook was again, a lot more stressful than usual. We had placed the finishing touches on the book before showing it to Mrs. Klein.

We all approved after going through it and most of the club members left after that. I, however, stayed back to try and finish another sketch.

After my little mishap ruined my last one, I haven't gotten around to redrawing it. But that proved harder to do as I stared at the blank page for what seemed like forever.

I tried drawing a few things that came to mind but I didn't like them that much so I restarted, multiple times.

I could've just chosen one of them but I didn't want to submit a half–assed sketch when I knew I could do better.

Plus, Mrs. Klein is the only teacher here that I like so putting in some effort couldn't hurt. She really is the best.

The countless times she's allowed me to eat lunch in her room, helped me during art class, supervised me in yearbook club—I've grown pretty close with her over the years.

After an extra hour and no progress I called it quits and headed home. It was six by the time I got back to my house.

After a quick shower and a family dinner that took place while watching a hockey game in the living room, I told my parents that I'd be across the street.

Of course they asked why to which I answered, "Project."

Dad nodded and walked back into the living room but mom raised her eyebrows at me with a smile.

"I don't want to talk about it." I shut down her imaginative mind and walked out the front door.

God, I swear both of them are the same.

Lillian and my mom have always tried to make Jackson and I get closer. Whatever that means to them.

They took extreme measures to try and get us to stop bickering, but as you can see, it hasn't worked.

Any chance they have to put us together, they take it. Honestly it's a funny effort by the two of them, but sometimes I just can't take it.

I guess they can't help it though. They're best friends and their kids are the complete opposite.