The Do-Over (Extra Credit series, Book 2)

Chapter 2: ANNIKA

I look away, embarrassed by my rudeness, and take a deep breath. I consider apologizing. We seemed to get along so well that first night! Maybe I....

"But if that's the way you want it. Let's go for it. I know firsthand that you're a pain in the ass and even in the worst Hollywood-style post-apocalyptic dystopian future where we were left alone on the planet I wouldn't work with you. Fuck this!"

I open my mouth to blister him and he starts to stand up, but in a moment Marjorie hovers over us.

"Stop it! You're acting like children," she snaps, surprising us both. "Now, get over yourselves and do the assignment. Exchange what you wrote this week and then talk about how to move forward. By next week you need a plan in place to address what you figured out." She leaves before we can respond.

Matt and I look at each other and something passes between us. It's the same thing I felt That Night, when we first started talking at The Party, before The Incident. It's like a crackle, a spark, a flash. It scares the heck out of me. Without a word I pass my journal over to him and he passes his to me. We're careful not to touch even a finger.

I'm done reading first and I watch him absorb what I wrote, while I squirm a little. I'm embarrassed. I wrote about sitting alone in the cafeteria, wondering what was happening at other tables. I described conversations and analyzed what I should have said. I tracked the books I read (I read a lot), the phone calls with my family, the little flare-ups with my roommate.

"What does that say," he asks, pointing to some scrawled comment in the margin. I lean over, careful to keep my long hair from sweeping forward.

"Oh. That's 'screw you' in Russian."

"Was that directed at me?" He might be teasing, but again I can't tell.

"No, not that time," I answer slowly. "That was directed at the guy in my Contemporary Crises class who asked if I was interested in a pity fuck.... I think that's the phrase. Or is it a pity lay? I get lay and fuck confused."

He looks taken aback, then mutters, "douchebag." I'm taken aback. "You may be mean, but he shouldn't insult you."

I can't entirely suppress my smile. "Only you get to do that, huh, Matt?"

"Yeah. Exactly,"

He smiles tentatively too and we eye each other, wondering who will break this uneasy truce first.

Turns out it's me.

"Well, your writing is bullshit. As usual." I fold my arms across my chest defiantly, as if daring him to contradict me. He just raises an eyebrow. "You fill the pages with excuses for why your cheating was okay."

He just shrugs. "I don't think it was particularly wrong. As I say...here." He leans over and flips a few pages to the right part, then points. I push back into my chair to avoid him but he's still too close.

"It's clearly wrong! And you signed the college's ethics code so even if you don't personally see anything wrong with it you're obliged to follow its code of conduct." I let this sink in. "I'm amazed you didn't get in much more trouble for this. You could have been suspended, Matt."

"Doubtful."

"Why? Because mommy and daddy wouldn't let anything happen to their golden boy? Because mommy's a senator and daddy's a judge?"

I found this out afterwards. We talked about all kinds of things that night, including politics, but he never mentioned it.

"Yep." He shrugs again.

I stare at him in disbelief. He's playing me again.

"I don't believe you. You're bullshitting again. I wonder if you buy your own act."