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Oscar's eyes flared and he stepped forward, his height showing how much of an advantage he had if she were to attack him. The moment he was late for the first day she knew he would be trouble. His neck was lowered, brown curls falling onto his forehead and showcasing his angled face. "You," he seethed, "don't know anything about us. You've always had it nice. Nice family. Nice grades. So instead of waltzing in here because you 'have to teach these problem kids' why don't you march your ass home."

Lucy's face nearly faltered but she held her ground, all eyes in the room trained on the argument occurring in front of the bookshelves. She hadn't planned on letting her true feelings be known but Oscar's remarks kept hitting the right spots to piss her off and she couldn't hold it back.

Tucking hair behind her ear, Lucy stepped forward and nearly trampled his toes, "You think I've had it nice." She laughed, something that sounded fake and annoyed, "Why don't you waltz your ass to my house and see where I live. I know everything there is to know about your crowd. You're the people who always skipped classes. Who came in late and made a joke of it. The kind of people who never studied and always copied. And now here I am, picking up the slack."

Oscar's face contorted to a smile and he peered down at Lucy, "You're calling the wrong people slackers, darling. You wanna make a bet?"

Lucy nearly swooned at the reveal of Oscar's country accent but it was quickly masked after his drawl of breath. "Bet? You're serious? I always knew you were childless- "

"If we can prove to you that we aren't the people you think we are by the end of the summer, you have to apologize to all of us and," he added with a dramatic stop, "and actually help us study, not only with school, but with life. We all know you have an impressive resume and to pay back for the comments you gotta help us. Resumes, cooking, money, interviews, the whole shebang. Whatever they need help with," Oscar gestures at the students scattered around the room, "you do it."

"We have classes for those kinds of things and--cooking?" Lucy asked appalled.

Oscar titled his head, "You know those classes ain't worth a shit. Mr. DeHeart just sits at his desk and makes you watch those videos. I know you have one of those bakin' blogs and have a shit ton of cookbooks checked out from the library. Props of being a student worker, Owens."

Lucy nearly punched him in the gut but clenched her fist and held her ground. She knew all the students weren't bad but at least one of them, one of them, had to be what she expected. Her gaze drifted over all the students sitting at in the plush chairs. Most of them had their chins cupped in their palms, eating up the argument in front of them, while others just messed on their phones. She had just finished reading most of their remedial paperwork and remembered many of them not even trying to attend classes, therefore she had to be right.

Lucy pushed back her shoulders and stepped forward, "Deal. But if I win, you have to apologize and-" pausing, she tapped her chin to think of an equal opportunity. "You have to teach me first aid. "

It was no secret at Heritage High that Oscar knew his way around the medical field. His father had been a prominent nurse in the community before he left two years ago. Lucy decided when she won, first aid training could be a lovely addition to her resume.

"Prepare the dough, Lucy. Because your life is about to be heated." Oscar says, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

Lucy scoffed, what a cheesy comeback, and smiled. "Get the first aid kit ready, Oscar. You're going to need some ointment." Maybe she shouldn't have said anything?

Oscar's laughter tumbled from his lips and Lucy narrowed her eyes. Sticking his hand towards her, Lucy grabbed it and firmly shook it. Even though she was positive the bet would end in her favor, she couldn't help but think what the hell did I just get myself into? 

The Summer I Met Them [short story]Where stories live. Discover now