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Chapter 1

The classroom was quiet as Mr. Gonzales walked around collecting our reports. I managed to do my report last night; I was up until 3 in the morning. The teacher made his way to my desk in the last row; I sat alone by choice. “Ms. Harp?” he spoke as he looked at me. 

His voice was questioning as he saw my neatly typed paper in the corner of my desk. Grinning, I picked it up and placed it into his hands, on top of the other papers. “Here you go, Mr. Gonzales.”

It wasn’t often that I didn’t do my work; I do it, I just don't hand it in on time. I did about eighty-five percent of my homework and projects, and I somehow manage to maintain a B+ average. A few gasps sounded throughout the classroom and I gave them flat looks. Can they be any more dramatic?

Mr. Gonzales continued teaching and a few moments into his lesson, the door was opened slowly. “Mr. Gonzales?” Where did I recognize his voice?

“Ah, Mr. Davis, come in. Take a seat,” Mr. Gonzales greeted as he opened the door for the mystery guy. The boy walked in and I instantly recognized him- the guy from the library yesterday. 

His eyes gazed over the classroom and I tried to duck my head but I wasn’t fast enough. I heard girls gasp at his appearance and the once quiet classroom turned into a lunchroom, minus the food of course. Mr. G would never allow food in his classroom, aside from his own. The gasps grew louder as his feet walked along the aisle. I couldn’t help but look up and he noticed me. If I didn’t look up, he wouldn’t have noticed me!

“Is this seat taken?” 'Mr. Davis' asked as he held the back of the seat. I had the urge to say ‘yes’ and watch in victory as he walked away defeated, however, Francis Martin beat me to it. The idiot turned around in his chair and gave a large grin.

“Nope and it never is, not like it's surprising. Sitting there is social suicide,” he snorted, laughing along with his friends. Francis never was a big fan of me and vice versa.

“Nobody likes you, Franny,” I hissed rather childishly. He glared at me and gave me the one finger salute. I rolled my eyes while Mr. Gonzales practically had a near death experience. His hand went to his heart and he stared at us.

“Mr. Martin! Ms. Harp! Another interruption and I’m sending you both to detention for a week. That seat happens to be available, Mr. Davis,” Mr. Gonzales nodded at ‘Mr. Davis.’

‘Mr. Davis’ sat down with a smirk. He pulled the seat from under the desk and flopped down comfortably. His books sat on the table as he yanked his chair closer to the desk and rested his head on his entwined hands.

Mr. Gonzales got on with his lesson and I felt the new boy's eyes on me. “What?” I asked as I turned to glare at him. 

“You know, I didn’t catch your name yesterday," he replied, a sly smirk spreading across his lips.

“That’s because I didn’t toss it," I bit back, watching as Mr. G scribbled along the board; my eyes made out a timeline. My glasses wouldn’t help in this case; Mr. G happens to be a terrible artist.  

“Well, can you toss it? I’m open,” I glowered at him before rolling my eyes with a sigh.

“Savannah,” I announced. “What about you, Mr. Davis?”

“Jonah," he simply introduced. 

The rest of the class went by smoothly aside from the not-so-subtle elbowing or chair kicking on my part; it serves him right for sitting beside me, especially after his daring acts yesterday. When the bell rang, I was up and nearly sprinting out of the classroom before someone grabbed my shoulder, causing me to jerk backwards. I ripped my arm out of his grip, my face contorting into one of disgust. “What?” I groaned.

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