I Don't Want to Have to Explain Where the Stains Came From Again

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A/N Wow! 69 reads! Who would have thought? Thank you all so much! I'm already working on the next chapter, and it may be up tomorrow or even later today. Enjoy!

*Drew McCarthy*

I'm in the gym after school, practicing my 3 point shot because there is no offseason. I dribble over half court, fake right, and cross over left, stepping up to the line. Jumping, I raise the ball over my head before releasing it in a spinning arc. I follow the ball with my eyes until...


The satisfying noise of a perfect 3 point shot fills my ears, and I smile, causing the sweat to bead up and roll down my face. However, I don't care. I love this feeling, love this sport, love everything about it. I could live in a gym, so long as I had a basketball under my arm.

Grinning, I casually jog to where the basketball rolled, picking it up from where it lay next to my backpack. I'm about to turn back to the court, but an envelope on top of my backpack catches my eye.

It's addressed to Mr Nathaniel McCarthy. That's my dad, strange.

On top of the envelope is a sticky note. I pick it up, basketball still under my arm, and inspect it.

I forgot to give you this envelope before you left my office this morning. Inside is a piece of paper explaining that you need tutoring and why. You and your dad both must sign this, and you must bring it back to me by Wednesday.
Mr. Cranch


I can't let my dad see this. He'll go ballistic, and I'll end up grounded. Basketball means a lot to him, and he would be really disappointed in me that I'm wasting my opportunity like this.

I guess I have no chance without a tutor, because it's not that I just don't do the work, it's that I literally do not understand the concepts.

The only subject that I'm any good at is English. I write a lot of poems, but they're hidden in a journal inside of my mattress. My dad thinks that academics are a waste of time once they go past staying eligible for sports.

I set the note back on the envelope and pull out my phone. 6:15. Wow. I've been shooting for three hours with no break, except for one where Jean was walking by and waved at me. I had run over to her and we talked a little bit before she had to go. Best f*ckbuddy I've had in a few months.

Shaking my head, I jog over to the basketball rack, slamming the ball on before moving it over to the side of the gym. I swing my backpack over one shoulder after shoving the envelope into a pocket. If I even turn it in at all, it'll be with a forged signature.

I pull my keys out and walk out of the building and to the parking lot, where only a few cars are left. I spot a red Ford, a silver Lexus, and a teal Volkswagen with what looks like a flat tire. That's unfortunate.

As I make my way to my navy Bugatti Veryon, a girl comes from around the hood of the bug, a wrench in one hand and the other on her hip. Her dark brown hair is tied up in a loose bun on top of her head, and her black glasses rest on the top of her nose.

Wait, is that... Nerd Girl? Ms. I-Can't-Watch-Where-I'm-Going? What was her name, Kaitlyn? Sounds right. This is too good.

I lean on the hood of my car and observe her for a while. I'm in no hurry to go home. As she struggles to get the spare tire out of her trunk, her glasses slide off her face and fall on the ground, landing lens first. I hear the crack of glass from my vantage point 50 feet away, and cringe internally. Sucks for her.
She starts to let out a curse that I can hear from across the parking lot.

"Son of a-"

She cuts off when she notices me smirking at her, and her face scrunches up into a frown. Kaitlyn picks up her glasses and after a quick glance, slips them into her flannel pocket. Wrench still in hand, she turns in my direction and starts to march over to my car. I don't want that crazy woman or her wrench anywhere near my car, so I push myself off the hood and meet her halfway across the parking lot.
By the time I reach her, she's fuming.

"You! I can't believe you! Why would you just stare? Don't you have any kindness at all, a heart that would let you see I was struggling and needed help? No, of course not. You just had to lean there against your expensive car all fancy and st-"

I cut her off with my hand over her mouth, only to jerk it away in disgust as I feel something wet on my palm. Did she just-

"Did you just lick me?"

She steps back, hand to her open mouth and eyes wide.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to lick you I was ju-"

I hold up a hand this time to get her to stop talking, and luckily it works. I don't think I could put myself in danger of being involuntarily licked by Kaitlyn again.

"Relax doll. You can lick me anytime you want. Just not like that." With that I turn around and head back to my car, but not before I catch a glimpse of Kaitlyn's red face, small mouth opening and closing like a fish.

I stifle a laugh and turn my head over my shoulder, smirking right at her. After a few seconds, I continue walking to my car, before getting in and turning it on. I drive slowly up to where Kaitlyn is by her car, and roll down the window.

"I would offer you a ride home, but I need to get back as soon as possible so I can watch my little sister. And anyway, the leather just got redone in the back, and I don't want to have to explain to my dad again where all the stains are coming from."

I drive off, glancing in my rearview mirror a few times, observing Kaitlyn's beet red face and tightly clenched fist. I allow myself a laugh before I start the drive home.

*Kaitlin MacDonald*

That, that, that...

"Son of a b*tch," I curse out loud. Today has officially been the worst day ever, all thanks to Drew McCarthy and whoever decided to leave an upright nail in the middle of the parking lot. I guess I can't drive home today, both because I can't get the dead tire off and because I'm half blind, and a half blind Kaitlyn on the road is not a good idea. I'll have to take the bus or walk.

Locking my car and making sure all the windows are up, I pull out my phone and check the bus times.

There's one that runs from the end of the street and makes a stop in the neighborhood next to mine. I check when the next bus comes, and groan when I see that the last bus comes at 6:20. It's 6:35. I guess I'm walking.

I shoulder my backpack, make sure my broken glasses are in my flannel pocket, and slide my phone into my jeans pocket before moving my legs in the direction of home.

I would have called Jordan, but he's at Peyton's house for the evening, and she lives on the other side of town. I won't make him go out of his way that much. Even if Sam could drive and had a car, he's at a friends house to work on a project. There's not much I can do except put one foot in front of the other.

When I'm halfway home, the sky opens up and starts pouring down on me. Great, just great.

Now, not only does my car have a flat tire, but I have to walk home in the rain.

I hate Mondays.

A/N Part 2
Good news, I did well on my Chem final. Considering the class is almost impossible, and the final is one of the hardest things I have ever taken in my 11 years of schooling, a 69% is not that bad! Including corrections, extra credit, and the second part of the exam, I got a B+ overall!

Okay, exuberant celebration over. I was just really excited, because my really smart friend got a 47% on the hard part 😐

How were/are your finals going?
-craving pumpkin pie

PS Remember to vote and comment!

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