Being the child of Winter Denholm, the botanist, and Evonne Denholm, the physical trainer/nutritionist, gifted me with an affinity for Biology to pair with my natural love of Math. However, the other subjects suffered.
My attitude changed for the better and I hated that I waited this long to care about school.
Zeriah downloaded a pomodoro app on my laptop and told me to revise before school. She said the word revise in an awkward British accent.
Schools didn't teach students how to study so I reread my notes for an hour. A new pack of pastel highlighters appeared on my desk the next day. Then it was sticky notes, Japanese pens, and a speaker that blared tons of classical music.
I wished school could be my new crush. It had gotten to the point where I was avoiding certain hallways that Milo took.
For Wyatt.
I had to remind myself I was doing this for the sake of our friendship. I was correcting my wrongs.
Kenna's hand sprinted across her daily planner as Ms. Ranedi dictated the homework. In the past, planners collected dust in my bookbag. I would use them for September, leaving the rest of the months blank. Junior year was the most important and I was determined to immerse myself in school.
I was inconspicuous in my observations. A few glances here and there. She created a color coded key which I imitated. Green for AP Language and Composition, Blue for Pre-Calculus, Red for AP Salsingo History, and Purple for AP Physics.
A student volunteer handed out last week's quiz on Kinematics. Kenna grinned—teeth and all— at the large 100 circled by her name. Ms. Ranedi wrote Excellent Work in the margin.
"Black Girl Magic!" Kenna whispered to herself.
I was glad I chose to sit next to her. She was smart.
It was shocking how perfect her grades were when all her Bloqi posts were yacht parties. When did she do homework? When did she study? Did she study? Was she naturally smart?
The volunteer handed mine back face down. The 60 written in sharpie bled through the page. I slid it into my folder without wasting another breath.
60??? Are you that stupid? It was a multiple choice quiz.
Eric leaned over his table and whispered. Her smile disappeared and her shoulders slumped. I scooted my chair closer to the table. How could I console her? Why did I want to? We weren't friends.
"What happened?" My mouth betrayed me.
"He said 'Can you calculate the average velocity of this dick in your mouth?'"
"Are you okay?"
"Ehh," She shrugged her shoulders. "He mo' creative than usual. "
Eric made a fist and poked his tongue on the side of his cheek, and moved his hand back and forth.
Fuck it.
I laid my arm across the width of the chair, facing him and Will. "Can you? You look like the type."
Eric quirked a blonde eyebrow. "The type?"
"The type to try and give yourself a blowjob."
No one else would.
Eric flinched, disgust written on his face like a barcode. "Why would you—"
Will's eyes flickered between us. He never joined in with the taunting, he always sat there giggling to himself, observing our reactions. If Eric was absent would he be able to stand on his own two feet?
"Don't worry, I can keep a secret," I whipped around feeling him stare holes into the back of my head.
Wyatt regaled me with locker room horror stories too often to count. I assumed this one was too absurd to be true. At that point, buy a flesh light.
A smile adorned Kenna's face. "You shol' shut him up."
And she was right. Eric didn't say anything for the rest of the period. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
What do you think about Kenna?
What do you think about Will?
Thoughts?