I wake up to the sound of my wonderful mom humming away in the kitchen and the coffee machine churning the coffee beans away. My stepdad is sneaking down the stairs when I get up to go to the bathroom and I suspect that he is going to give my mom a morning surprise as usual. Hearing her yelp a minute later, he had succeeded.
Since my parents always make me wake up at five in the morning (even though they're not usually there to check up on me anyway), two hours earlier than school, I have enough time for a run and a shower. That's right, a run. My parents are crazy doctors who makes their kid run every morning because it's apparently good for me. That's why you never want doctors for parents. I slip on a pair of comfy leggings and a thin sweater, stretching on my way down the stairs.
My run is short lived since the weather is terribly freezing due to it being the middle of December. Georgia doesn't usually have snow but this year, a miracle--or rather a curse--was cast onto this lonely middle-of-nowhere place. I'm more of a rainy, cool day type of person.
I take a short shower after the run and dry my hair off while brushing my teeth. After getting dressed in a t-shirt and carefully maneuvering the first pants I could reach for so that it wouldn't hurt my leg, I slip out of my room and run down the stairs quickly so they wouldn't find out that my leg was still hurting. I go to the kitchen table where I find my backpack lying on one of the chairs. My mom is in her apron flipping a piece of french toast and my step-dad is reading the newspapers. We say our good mornings and I grab a plate in one hand and by backpack in another, sitting across him.
"Breakfast is served," My mom smiles down at me and places a piece onto my plate she does the same for my step-dad who places his newspaper down. I grab the pitcher of syrup and smother the whole thing in sugary gooey-ness and cut the piece of bread up with my knife, happily eating even if my face doesn't show it. My parents look at me in disgust, making a crude comment about how unhealthy it is and how, when I grow up, I'm going to be getting heart attacks early.
*Bing* I check my phone.
You have a text message. I slide a finger across the screen, the phone coming to life as I look at the message.
I'm here. -Oliver
I put the phone down, walking to the sink while eating the rest of my french toast. "I'm getting a ride from Oliver today, no need to give me a ride to school." I say through the breaks of chewing.
"Is Oliver a girl or a boy?" My step-dad asks, his fork digging into the french toast. Even if he is just my step-dad, he cares for my well-being and relationship a lot. It seems he doesn't pay enough attention because Oliver has been my best friend even before my mother remarried.
"Girl," I reply and throw my plate into the sink. "I'm leaving now."
"Have a wonderful day, honey," My mom shouts before I open the door.
Oliver drives one of those cars you usually see your parents drive. A simple, silver Toyota. She waves and I wave back and open the passenger seat. She was still looking at my house in awe. That's what I love about Oliver. She isn't afraid to show what she's feeling. I, with my dead leg, hop into the car.
"Awesome house. What do your parents do again?" She asks. "And what's with your leg?"
"Doctors. We own a hospital. I fell," I tell her. She nods her head and backs out of my driveway, heading to school. The parking lot is absolutely packed but we manage to find a space towards the middle and head for the doors of jail.
I have my first class with Oliver so we walk there together. Oliver is probably the only friend I have, not including Henry and semi-Jeremy. I don't have the ability to make friends with this face and personality of mine but for some reason, Oliver found it interesting and amusing. Oliver turns her head and looks around her.
She's looking at the crowd around me again. The crowd of gossiping girls who talk trash about me all day and the guys who drool but then comment on my rudeness and then drool again. By now, I'm used to it.
"I can never get used to people staring at me like that. How do you do it?" She asks. "That guy is, like, seriously checking your butt out?! Gross."
"Just ignore them," I say, still covering my back a bit with my backpack. We walk to the classroom, the crowd clearing the way for Ice Queen a.k.a. me. It gets pretty annoying sometimes to get special treatment but at least I'm never late for class. I set my books down at my seat in biology class, my partner being Oliver, and listen to Oliver talk about her day yesterday.
She stops when the teacher walks in, carrying her books. She sits down at her desk, not bothering to quiet down anyone as the morning announcements come on. The peppy announcers talk about all of the events and then passes it on to some cheerleaders to broadcast the next basketball game. That's right, basketball. No one here is a big fan of football but basketball is life--seriously. Kids killed (or at least physically hurt others) to get on the basketball team.
Not to mention Jeremy is on the team and upon entering the team, your popularity will soar. That's what the stupid guys are playing for. Girls. Once the announcements end, our teacher moves to the front and scribbles something on the board.
Pg. 43 #1-12
Pg. 58 #1, 4, 6-18
Pg. . . . you get the point.
Our biology teacher doesn't care what we do in class at all, except for times when we actually do labs and write stupid lab reports on them. The whole class is goofing off except for the nerds and, well, me because I was raised as a good student and daughter to learn and achieve the highest grade possible in a class. I wasn't going to flunk just because the teacher was being such a slack-off about it.
"Hey, Jenn!" One guy shouts. I choose to ignore him and continue working but that doesn't seem to have a good affect on him. "Hey!" He tries again, angry. It's Finn, the same guy who sought after the school's bad boy because he had--and I quote-- "the same shirt I'm wearing! He's wearing the same shirt! What a copy cat!" Yeah. He had to go to therapy because of his anger problems but it didn't seem to work on him at all.
"Finn, sit down and be quiet," The teacher demands. Did he listen? No, of course not. His anger is flaring and he doesn't know how to calm himself down unless someone smacks him in the head and causes him to go to the hospital because of a concussion. I can hear his footsteps violently coming over and I finally lift my head out of my textbook to look up at him.
"What do you want, Tress?" I ask, my coldness causing him to freeze for a mere second. He slams a hand on my desk and leans in.
"Just because you're a little cute does NOT mean you get to treat everyone here like they're nothing to you," He spat. I blink, my face void of emotion as always. Only my eyes move to stare up at him.
I roll my eyes, "Even if I wasn't cute, talking to you is a waste of my breath. Please move away from my desk before I-"
"Before you what?"
I sigh, my patience today is lacking with this leg of mine. "Why don't you let me finish my sentence first if you really want to know? I'll just show you instead." And I pushed the desk into his stomach purposely aiming the corner at his personal area. He falls back groaning in pain as the teacher stands up from her desk.
"Why you little-" His shouting is ceased when a book is thrown at him. "Who-?"
"You're too loud. I have a headache this morning." That is the voice of the school's bad boy, Jace Fischer. Finn stops. Did I mention that when Finn tried to win the right for his fashion back, he got a concussion and went to the hospital because of Jace? No? Well then there you go. "And delete the videos, I don't want to see myself on YouTube."
"But you're sitting out of the way-" One girl tries to object.
"Hm?" He asks, raising a threatening eyebrow.
"N-No, we'll delete it right away."
"Thanks," He grins.
"As for you two, I'll be sending you to the principal's office," The teacher says. Oh, great. The principal's office. I'm so scared. Please tell me you've sensed my over 9000 sarcasm (and my Dragon ball reference!).
"Ms. Edwards," Jace says, walking up to her and putting his arm around her neck. She's like half his height and it looks absolutely ridiculous. He turns the both of them around so that their backs are facing us. He whispers something into her ear and the whole class seems to be leaning in on their secret conversation to hear what they were talking about.
A minute later, their conversation ends and Ms. Edwards continues to sit at her desk without saying anything. What just happened there? Probably the whole class is thinking the same thing as Jace walks to where his book fell when he threw it at Finn then back to his seat. Glancing over at me and curling his lips into a sly smirk, he places the book over his face and leans back into his chair. He's going to sleep like nothing just happened.
"Hey, what did he say?" Oliver asks someone who was closer to them than she was. The person answers, "Ditto."
Class ends with the bell chiming and all of the students clear the classroom in a snap. Jace comes running after me after seeing that I was speeding my way through the open crowd. I didn't want to be late to APUSH since the teacher is strict beyond strict. Oliver suddenly tugs at my shirt, telling me to stop walking. She's too nice for her own good.
"Hey, aren't you going to thank me for saving you back there?" Jace asks, smiling. I stop and sigh, looking up at him from under my eyelashes (and no I was not trying to be seductive, he is just too tall to look up at properly and my neck hurts).
"I didn't ask you for help," I reply. I really didn't need it any other way, he totally made the decision himself. "Bye."
"Cold as always, I see!" Jace shouts playfully. I roll my eyes.
APUSH, Art, lunch and then Math until I finally get to go home. Oliver says bye before going to her APUSH class with Ms. Frank who I heard is nicer than the teacher I have, Mr. Lambert. My leg makes it difficult to move up the stairs but I eventually make it there just in time for the bell to ring.
"Hurry up and close the door, Ms. Miller. I don't have all day." Mr. Lambert commands. I resist the urge to roll my eyes because he is the one in charge of detention and I have no intention of staying after school for another hour to write a letter about how sorry I am that I rolled my eyes at him. It just doesn't sound intriguing, right?
As and after I sit down, Drew's laughter begins to annoy the heck out of me and obviously the rest of the class, too. Only, the nerds don't have the courage to speak up to Drew since he's on the basketball team of course. Drew is a nasty person--he just hates being told what to do by others. If the nerds ever speak up, they'll go through a lot more h-e-double hockey sticks in school than it already is one. But I don't really give a firetruck about it and I turn around to face the group he is telling a joke to.
"And the guy with no pants on went-"
"Wait. Do you hear that?" I say. Drew stops his story and looks at me. What an idiot.
"What?" He says, stopping to hear.
"That's the sound of no one caring. Shut the freak up, you're disturbing the whole class," I say. The whole group behind him cheers "Ooh" and I notice Jeremy laughing in the back, too. I roll my eyes, "You too, bird-brains."
Mr. Lambert has terrible hearing and I am especially grateful for that because all he heard was Drew laughing and the group going "Ooh". I'm off the hook for today. They earn detention. Mr. Lambert continues his lesson and I am actually really glad I have him as a teacher. He actually teaches and everything is easy to understand. The lesson ends an hour and a half later and Mr. Lambert passes homework out.
"Hey," Jeremy follows me as we exit.
Jeremy shares three classes with me and lunch. He tries to walk me to class everyday but ends up tagging behind me. Art class is most annoying with him. Ms. April, as much as I love her, seems to be shipping students in her class. (If you don't know what shipping means, you are one sad person. Just kidding). She seems to like putting Jeremy in the seat next to mine and assigning projects with the two of us in the same group.
My leg doesn't let me go any faster than a turtle but Jeremy still stays behind me as I walk up the stairs. So many freaking stairs. What are they trying to do, compete with the Burj Khalifa?! The bell has already rung but Jeremy is still behind me. I swing my leg back, hitting him in the knee. He screams in pain. Yeah, I kick like a man.
"Go to class already, you're annoying," I tell him. A girl hurried runs by, taking a long glance that looks sinister at us before running to class. I can feel the chills from her.
"What if I'm trying to skip?" He asks, grinning. He seems perfectly oblivious to the creepy girl but I'm guessing people get used to it when they're all rich and famous.
"Do you want me to kick you again? Go to class. I'll tell your dad," All of the threats I had, I threw them out. He still didn't budge. "Whatever. Just stay there then." I step up with my right leg and lift my left leg up.
"Is your leg really okay? Why didn't you ask for an elevator note?" He asks. Sighing, I turn to him again. "Do your parents even know how bad it is?"
Ignoring his questions once again, since I really didn't tell my parents at all about it, I try to run up the stairs like I did this morning only it doesn't work the same way up as it does down. Pain shot up my leg and I scream as I trip and go tumbling--right into his arms.
Just kidding. That's too cliche for this book. I catch myself by gripping onto the railing. I'm an independent woman, you know?
"Hey, are you okay?" He asks, running up to help me.
"I'm fine!" I say and walk until I reach the top and basically run away from Jeremy until I reach the classroom--let's see, eight minutes late? I walk in, ready to explain to Ms. April who would understand, for sure. Jeremy also comes running in.
"Sorry we were late, I was helping my injured friend up the stairs and she ran off without me afterwards," He explains.
"I didn't ask for or need your help," I say for the second time today. Is it just me or does it seem like I'm getting too much unwanted help these days?
"That's okay," Ms. April smiles. "But we are starting our new partner project today and you two are the only ones who haven't picked a partner due to your lateness. So you two are officially partners now."
"Wait, I'm pretty sure many girls here would just love to switch places with me," I say and look back at the classroom. "Right, girls?"
They nod half out of fear and half out of agreement. But Ms. April wasn't cutting me any slack today. I mean, she is shipping us after all and this was the perfect excuse. How wonderful. The mean look she gave them made them stop nodding.
"I think that you two would work together just fine," She nods. "Now go to your new seats by the window and I'll introduce the theme of the project we are going to be doing for the next few months."
I blow my bangs out of my eye's way, out of frustration and sit down. You may be wondering why I don't want to be partners with Jeremy. Yes, sure I definitely hate him since he is such a . . . happy thing and conceited jerk. But also because Jeremy sucks. at. drawing. He sucks at art in general. Not to be mean or anything but I don't think he can even draw a cube and shade it.
"The final project will be any media you would like, any color you want, anything. A sculpture, drawing, painting, it will be your and your partner's choice. Both of you will be working on the same one which means you'll be spending time during my class and after school to finish this assignment. I will not tolerate goofiness with this assignment." One of the students raises their hand. "Questions after I finish as always, Kayley. I also will not tolerate one partner doing all of the work, I can tell whether or not it was partner work or not, I've been doing this for five years. Any work like that will result in a zero and this is 40% of your final."
The class groans and starts murmuring to one another. Ms. April clears her throat and the class falls silent again.
"This is a meaningful art project, I want you to think deep. To pull out the emotions. This is what I'm giving you a more than a month to finish it. I want it to be absolutely perfect. And also because I know most of you will put it off until the very last moment. Finally, the theme that has always been the tradition of my class," Her eyes find their way to meet mine. Oh, great. "Something that makes you happy."
"There is a first come first serve rule. I don't like letting students recycle ideas so the sooner you start thinking about your project, the better chance you have of getting that subject. And the broader the options," Ms. April says. "So, get your gears working and brainstorming!"
In the end, only a couple of students couldn't think of anything due to others getting the idea to Ms. April first. Jeremy and I are among those unfortunate students. Great.
...
"So what do you want to do for the project?" Jeremy says, following me to the school entrance, or exit now. As if he wasn't annoying enough and now he's stalking me.
"Anything," I say but then start to think about it. "You know what, just leave the project to me. I'll get it done in no time." But then I forgot that I have no idea what to draw. It's okay, I'll think of something.
"She said we're not allowed to work on it alone," Jeremy says.
"Since when did you follow the rules, Young?" I ask curiously watching his expression go bad. "Fine. Let's meet at the library."
I text Oliver really quick, wondering where she is but she doesn't reply. That girl, always keeping her phone on silent. Jeremy is still standing next to me inside the school doors.
"Are you going to leave or stand there looking like a lost idiot?" I ask.
"I'm waiting for you to leave," He says. "You're not riding your bike again, right? Especially with that leg . . ."
"No, I have a friend to drive me home. Now stop stalking me and go home, you creep." I cross my arms over my chest and feel my phone vibrate. Oliver sent a text message that says, "sorry, my mom suddenly came to school and told me to come home early. I forgot I had a doctor's appointment today."
Well, that's great.
"Is your friend coming?"
"Lets just go to the library now and get the brainstorming over with." By then my parents would be home from work and they can drive me home.
"Alright," Jeremy grins and opens the door for me. I push against the door next to it and walk out without him. "You're so cold."
"That's what I'm known for."
I choose to stay silent in every car ride but this guy keeps on trying to make conversation. When we finally get to the library, memories flood back. Walking through, I realize that I haven't been here in a while. I used to always go here and read books in the summertime with my dad. And then-
"Do you want hot chocolate?" Jeremy asks.
"Yeah."
He eyes me in curiosity as I walk around, picking up the picture books I used to read with him. This is why I started to like art, after reading these. And manga, too. Jeremy finishes at the hot chocolate machine and we sit down at a table near the huge window providing a perfect view of all of the people walking outside. Happy families, couples, and I'm stuck here with this idiot.
"Your drink." He places the cup gently in front of my as I pull my notebook out. From the corner of my eye, I see that someone has been following and watching us the whole time. Creepy, much? When I look back, I see a bundle of hair moving around the corner to hide. Jeremy looks at me curiously.
"Things that make you happy."
"Puppies, kittens, cookies, ice cream-"
"Why did I have to be paired up with an idiot?" I say out loud, purposely for him to hear. "Can we get into the feelings, deep stuff? This is supposed to be a meaningful final artwork."
He pouts and I shake my head. This guy really doesn't take anything seriously.
"Starting off with media. What are you best working with?" I ask.
"Um . . ." I already know the answer to that, nothing. Jeremy isn't an artsy person at all. "I like experimenting with different colors. Colour pencils, anything with color, really."
"I don't really like using color all that much but I guess that's fine." I try my brain for something. "How realistic can your drawings go?"
"Not . . . really good at realism," He answers nervously. "I got into the advanced class for my abstract-ness. Oh and photography. The teacher didn't really give me a choice for it."
"I'm not good with abstract stuff," I say. "Maybe we can split the paper into two. You do one side and I'll do the other. Then we'll merge them together and voila, we have a completed art project." That is a great idea, high-five, me! Now I can do my part and he can do his. No interfering.
"Great. Should we just think of the subject ourselves?"
"That's fine." Or maybe it isn't. Shouldn't we just think of one subject instead of two? "Just report any ideas to each other. Once we get something good, we can just go with that idea."
"Alright, three months," He smiles and holds his hand out for me to shake. "Let's work together, partner."
"I better get an A on this." And I shake his hand anyway.
...
I AM SO SORRY!
I know this was supposed to come in July. I know today is the second of August. I. Am. Completely. Responsible. Go ahead, throw knives at me (just kidding, please don't...).
I found out near the end of July that I have a whole SUMMER worth of homework. Essays, books, dialectical journals (WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THESE?!), MAPS?! It's just very hard. And I'm very sorry. That's why I am posting two, as a bonus :) so please forgive me??
As I was writing this, all I was thinking was that ... "It needs a lot of editing." It's not going to be as funny as the rest (or at least I think my other books are a little comical). This really is just a small little halfway edited thing. I didn't even have a plotline for this and now that the chapters are so long, I've only written 14. I'll edit and post as much until it runs out.
ANYWAY, ENJOY. I'm sorry if it's a disappointment.