The Cassidy Boys

Chapter Twelve: What I Like About You

Chapter Twelve: What I Like About You

     A huff escapes me as I pull my chair in closer to the small wooden library table, and allow myself to hunch further over my papers. My posture isn't the best, but at least my legs are more comfortable as I cross one of my ankles over the other. The air conditioning that the librarians claim help protect the books during those sweltering school days is now replaced with heat that also is supposed to "protect the books." However, I'm not opposed to any of it since the cold tends to seep right though the windows in the cafeteria, and today happens to be the coldest day to date.

     "Aw!"

     "Stop doing that!" I hiss because the magic behind Xavier's spontaneous appearances is getting kind of old. The smile on his face, though, tells me he plans to do anything but. 

     "Well, I was going to say that you came back to the spot where we first met, but I guess you're not in the mood to reminisce." Xavier casually yanks back the chair across from mine, and the glare I send him does nothing to hinder the way his eyebrows wiggle. "So, what are we doing?" Xavier hums as he flops down in the seat in the same way his notebook flops down onto the table in front of him. "Just Max." The afterthought throws a crack in my annoyed façade, and Xavier's wiggling his eyebrows again because he knows.

     I shake my head at him before I shake my head down at the papers in front of me. I readjust my grip on my pencil before the paper slips out from underneath my fingertips.

     "Whoa"—Xavier cranes his neck back as if the words on the page are going to fly off and attack him—"that's a lot of words. How do you even read that?"

     "I don't." I snort before pulling the paper back from him. "It's just how I study."

     Over the years I've tried a lot of different study tactics in hopes that I'd find one that worked. Flashcards, acronyms, catchy jingles—you name it. I even tried putting M&M's on paragraphs in textbook pages in attempt to motivate myself to read them, but every time I ended up just eating them all, and getting sugar high opposed to getting high on knowledge. Now my latest and most effective strategy is rewriting material over and over until I feel like my brain actually absorbed it.

     "Well that's . . ." Xavier trails off while running a hand over his jaw. "Dedicated."

     "Thanks," I mumble as I begin to gather some of the papers that seemed to have precariously scattered across the table.

     "So anyway." Xavier taps his fingers against the table a few times. "I'm planning on hanging out with this girl on Friday and—"

     "Gonorrhea."

     If there was water in Xavier's mouth, he would've spit it out. "What?"

     "Chlamydia." I nod.

     Now this time I think he actually spits. "Dude—"

     "Herpes." I nod again.

     "What the f*ck?" he slams his hands on the table, and is reprimanded by the librarian for both his volume, and his choice of words.

     I use my hand to muffle my laughter, and Xavier's now the one throwing me a glare once the librarian is out of sight. 

     "Care to explain," Xavier huffs as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, and that only makes me laugh harder.

     "I'm just trying to remind you of all the possible things you could obtain if you do more than"—I bring my fingers up and curl them into fake quotations—"hang out."