The Cupid Project

Chapter 6: Operation: T.C.P.

"Love is an emotion experienced by the many and enjoyed by the few." – George Jean Nathan

You know, those mornings when everything seems to be going wrong?

Those mornings when your alarm clock doesn't go off. And your shower's freezing cold. And you're dropping every makeup product you own. And your hair's extra unruly.

Today was one of those mornings.

Usually, whenever I'm late for school, I don't worry that much. My first-period Economics teacher, Mr. Eastmon, is pretty chill. But today is block scheduling, meaning I have my second period first.

Unfortunately for me, my second period is AP Literature with none other than Dictator Abney.

As I rushed to the English building, I braced myself for the incoming lecture that was bound to happen.

Hesitantly, I knocked on the door. One of my classmates, a nice blonde named Heather, opened it and immediately gave me a sympathetic smile. I was screwed.

"Look who's come prancing in," Ms. Abney sneered from her desk.

"I'm so sorry! My alarm clock didn't ring, and then my shower–"

"I didn't ask for your whole life story, Ms. Carter," she interrupted a bored look on her face. "Just sit down, Deena."

"Actually, it's Dayna–"

"SIT DOWN!" she yelled, causing half of the class to flinch.

Damn. Who pissed in her Cheerios this morning?

I quickly shuffled to my seat, nearly tripping on her Whole Foods bag that sat by her desk in the process.

"Watch where you're going, Deena," she called out, focusing her attention back on the papers she was grading.

God, I hope this plan worked.

⁂

"Come on, guys, I don't want to see any walking! This is not the time to rest! And ladies, stop chatting on the track!" Coach Hadaway yelled before blowing his whistle.

If there was any class that rivaled AP Lit for my hatred, it would be Gym.

Not only was I not physically inclined, but Coach Hadaway was also way too intense. He treated his classes like they were boot camps. Like dude, it's 11:00 in the morning. We are not the Marines. There is no reason to be this loud.

I huffed and puffed for my life, trying my best to keep up with my peers. I was so focused on my own running that I failed to see the irritating rat who was jogging toward me.

"Damn, Night. Are you seriously this slow?" Mac taunted.

"Jesus, you're like a pesky mosquito. You just won't leave me alone, will you?"

"I'm sorry. Were you not the one asking me for help just yesterday?"

I sighed, trying my hardest to keep up with Mac. "Since when do you have gym this period anyway?"

"Uh, since the beginning of the year. I'm surprised you haven't noticed me."

"I guess I naturally tend to block out things that don't interest me."

"Please. Don't pretend like I'm not on your mind 24/7."

"The only time you're on my mind is when I'm fantasizing about ways to murder you."