The very moment I walked into my chemistry class, I knew I was going to have an awful second semester. Irritated, I sat down in the chair that my teacher had assigned to me.
As far as I knew, it wasn't the class that was going to make this semester bad. It was my lab partner.
Before I elaborate any further, I must describe to you the personality that is Mischa Bachinski. He's this tall, hotheaded Ukrainian kid with a massive attitude issue. He was adopted by the Roswinns, the richest family in Uranium City, so I suppose that explained the ego problem he seemed to have. After moving to Canada, it was discovered that he had a natural talent for ice hockey. He joined the team and became the captain. Not because he was actually better than his teammates (although he was somewhat exceptional), nor because he was a good leader, but because his daddy's money paid for equipment and uniforms and travel for the team. Saint Cassian's ice hockey team was the pride of our small town and just about the only thing we had to offer. On top of this, he was also the section leader for the basses in our choir. He somehow made decent grades despite going to parties nearly every weekend. Like I said, tall, slightly muscular, dark and kinda curly hair, and grey-green eyes. As one would expect, girls were falling over themselves trying to get with him, which definitely fed into his aforementioned ego problem. Did I like him? Maybe. Maybe I did. But that was before I realized that he was a complete jerk. He dislikes me a pretty equal amount, so I guess it's fair.
And this very personality was the one that just so happened to be my assigned lab partner.
"Oh, this is just great," He looked up, just as irritated as I was. "I sit with the psycho control freak for the rest of the year."
"Looks like daddy's money can talk," I shot back.
Mischa opened his mouth to argue, but the teacher began the class, and everyone promptly shut up.
"We will finish conversation later," He whispered into my ear.
"I'm sure we will."
...
I had a meeting with the Junior Canadian Scholar's Association in the library after school. It was some organization that supposedly looked good on college applications. JCSA was basically a community service club where you got free SAT test prep materials in exchange for thirty hours of community service. First semester was based on community service outside of school. The last fifteen hours in the second semester was based on school service.
Mrs. Barings, the English teacher, was the sponsor for the club. She was one of my favorite teachers.
"Have you decided what you're doing for your community service to school?" Mrs. Barings sat down at my table.
"I'll probably go with tutoring," I shrugged.
"Just to give you a heads up, it'll take maybe two weeks for you to get assigned someone to tutor. You have to qualify for subjects before you can tutor, meaning you have to have an A in the class you tutor for."
I nodded. "Do I get to pick the subject I tutor for?"
"No," Mrs. Barings sighed. "It's just how it works. I think it's stupid, but that's just me. You'd be a great English tutor. You also don't pick your student that you tutor."
"Figured as much."
"Since you've picked tutoring, I'll send you your subject and who you'll be tutoring in about two weeks, sounds good?"
I nodded.
...
Chemistry was a living hell. Not only did I have to sit by Mischa, I would have to listen to my chemistry teacher ramble about calculating half-lives and decay rates while trying to scribble notes down. Mischa, meanwhile, would stare at the board, his face reflecting the vapidity of the content matter. In other words, not a thought was going through that little brain of his.
Near the end of class, we got a chance to work on homework.
"Your elbow is on my side of table," Mischa whispered in my ear.
I promptly ignored him and continued working.
He tapped my arm. "Did you not hear me? I said that your elbow is on my side of the table."
"I heard you," I didn't bother looking up from my work.
"Then move your elbow."
"If you threw a please in there for me, I'd think about it."
"I will not 'please' you. You do not deserve 'please'."
I shrugged. "I'm not moving my elbow until you say please."
"I will not say it!"
"Then I'm not moving my elbow, whore. It's as simple as that," I said nonchalantly.
Mischa looked taken aback. "Did you just call me 'whore'?
"I did. Because you are one."
"I am no 'whore'."
I laughed. "Is that what all the girls you've slept around with would say?"
Unfortunately, he didn't react how I wanted him to. He just shrugged instead. "Is not my fault I get bitches."
"No wonder those girls only stick around you for a night. I can only imagine being the poor girl who would be your girlfriend."
Mischa raised an eyebrow. "You imagine to be my girlfriend? Gross"
"We both know that that's not what I meant."
...
Subject: JCSA Tutoring
From: Hannah Berings
To: Y/n L/n
Good afternoon!
I just wanted to let you know that I have your tutoring assignment. Your assigned subject is chemistry and your student to tutor is Mischa Bachinski. You will meet every Tuesday from 3:30-4:30 in the library in study room 7.
Thank you!
Hannah Berings, English Department (Grades 9-12)
...
No matter how many times I reread that email, the name 'Mischa Bachinski' wouldn't disappear. I was dreading Tuesday. I wasn't too keen on the idea of sitting in a hot, stuffy room with Mischa Bachinski whilst trying to explain chemistry to him.
And no matter how many times I prayed that Tuesday would never come, it still did. After school, I trudged my way to study room number seven. I sat down in a chair and got my chemistry notes out and set them on the desk. The door opened and Mischa looked in.
"Y/n. Get out of here. I have tutor in this room."
"I know."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. So leave."
I didn't say anything to him. It took him a few seconds to catch on.
"No. No way. There is no way you are my tutor."
"Sorry," I shrug.
"You probably chose to tutor me! Out of spite!" He accused me.
"Don't flatter yourself, Mischa. I'd never choose to tutor you."
"If I were not about to be suspended in hockey for bad grade, I would not be here at all."
"If you just quit hockey, then you wouldn't."
"Quit hockey?" He laughed. "Very funny. Jared would be angry with me if I quit hockey."
"Jared?" I echoed.
"Adoptive father."
There was an awkward pause.
"What are you waiting for? Tutor me or something," He demanded.
"Right, right. Yeah."
It took at least an hour just to teach him metric conversions although we already went over it the first week of class. But, as I said, not a thought was going through his little brain during that class.
As soon as 4:30 hit, I was ready to leave. I also had to get to work by five. I immediately stood up and shoved my binder back into my backpack.
"What is the rush?" Mischa smirked, leaning back in his seat. "You do not want to spend any more time with me?"
"Not at all. I have to do my own homework now, too. You know, to get to college?"
"Yes. I know."
I smiled. "Good. Wasn't sure if you did. With Daddy's money and all, he could probably pay your way into college."
He rolled his eyes and shouldered his backpack with a huff.
...
a/n: hey guys sorry about going silent for a bit oops