[ five : I suck at math ]
“Dad, hey,” Dylan said as his dad walked into the upperclassmen’s lounge. This is where most of the upperclassmen spent their free period catching up on homework, studying, or goofing off. You’d either find them here, in the gym, or at the library. “What’s up?”
“Is Luke here?” Coach Martinez asked his son. Coach was a tall, well and muscly-built man with a 6’4” stature, a stubble-covered chin, and a firm-set jaw. He had always been hard on the boys, but we all knew that he loved every one of them as if they were family to him. Luke’s head snapped up from across the room where he sat on a couch with Carter and Ryan playing the Xbox. “Ah, there he is. Luke!”
“Uh, yes, Coach?” Luke stood up, arms hanging at his sides.
“I’ve got some great news for you, boy. After some hard thinking,” Dylan chuckled at that part and Coach glared at him, “I’ve decided that I’m going to let you join the team.”
I couldn’t help but interject right then and there. I stood up. He already had to live with me, and now it was being made official that I’d have to see him after school during the time period that was originally my hour and a half without him-how could I not stand up? “Excuse me, Mr. Martinez, are you sure about this? He’s not even that great.”
“Adrienne, come on, now. You saw the kid play yesterday. He’s amazing.”
The smile on Luke’s face as he stood next to Coach was annoyingly bright. “Did you expect anything less?” I shot daggers at him with a heated glare. He gestured to his body. “Prepare yourself for more of all of this.”
“I’d rather be beaten to death.”
“Ha-ha,” he said, his voice lacking any kind of humor. To Coach Martinez: “Thank you, Coach. I’d be honored to be on your team.”
In a way, I think Luke was only joining the team to annoy me. I’m not even sure if he enjoyed soccer; maybe he just happened to be good at it.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Coach beamed. “Practices are every Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Alright, sir. I guess I’ll be seeing you at practice tomorrow, then.” With that, Coach left, leaving us and a few other students to ourselves in the lounge.
I hated Luke. I honest to god hated him.
“Congrats, man,” Carson said to him, clapping him on his back.
“I told you that you’d make it,” Dylan said.
“And I knew I would.”
I took a deep sight through my nose, wanting to punch him so hard right then. Eli and Wes were warming up to Luke in a way, but I knew they weren’t as on board with him as much as Dylan, Ryan, and Carson. The three of them loved him, said he was awesome. Huffing, I sat back down between Lindsay and Grace. Blaire was sat next to Grace.
“You know what that means, right?” Blaire asked, leaning in closer to me over Grace’s lap.
“Enlighten me,” I growled, still pretty pissed at Luke and his ways.
“Luke’s joining the team, meaning you get to see your future husband even more.”
“Oh, shut up. Hell would have to freeze over before I even dream of touching him.”
“I’ve dreamed many times of that. Except we didn’t stop at just kissing,” Lindsay breathed dreamily. “In fact, we went all the—” I pinched her, cutting her off.
“I don’t care for your daydreams about that bastard,” I grumbled, burying myself deeper into the leather couch that I’d been sat on, glaring holes into the back of Luke’s head as he strode back over to the couch in front of the TV.
I fucking hated him.
* * *
When we had gotten back from school today, Luke had gone straight upstairs. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, because I knew for a fact, he wasn’t doing his homework. Plus, his television was broken so there wasn’t much else he could do.
I had pushed the thought away and had retired to the living room to finish my math homework that I hadn’t been able to finish during my free period. I had no idea why Mr. Smyth had settled on giving us so much homework. We did have other subjects that needed just as much as attention as Math did, too. I just don’t think some teachers understood that. Especially Mr. Smyth. He was pretty awesome, and I’ll give him that, but he just loved to pile homework on us-almost like he did it just for the fun of it.
Now, I’d been sat in the living room, just hitting my forty-fifth minute of homework when Luke came padding in through the door frame in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and a t-shirt. He grunted when he saw me. I turned my head and shot him a glare.
“What do you want?” I asked him.
“I want to play Battlefield,” he stated simply. “Move.”
I gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “No, don’t you see that I’m trying to do homework?”
“You’re still doing that?”
“No, I’m just flipping through textbooks for the bloody joy of it, Luke. I obviously am still working on it. So no, you cannot play Battlefield.”
“You’re slow.” He walked into the room and stopped to bend down next to me. I heard him laugh when he saw that I was only on problem five. “Actually, you’re really slow.”
“Luke Pierce actually did his homework?” I gasped, feigning shock. “That’s a surprise to the world.”
“Yeah, and I finished it an hour ago.”
“You understand this stuff?” I frowned down at my open, Pre-Calc textbook. “It’s Greek to me.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “No, I just skipped a bunch of problems. Of course I understand it. It’s not that hard. It’s my best subject.”
Okay, that was more than hard to believe. Not only did he understand this, but it was his best subject? Like hell it was.
“I doubt it.”
“You like to judge people too quickly, don’t you? In the end, who’s the one that actually knows the correct answer to number five?” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, sure you do, Luke. I dare you to do it, then.”
“What’s that?” He held his hand up to his ear, as if he was straining to hear something in the distance. “Is that Adrienne Clarke asking for help?”
I scowled. “No, it’s Adrienne Clarke trying to prove a point.”
“Why, you can’t stand the fact that I’m smarter than you?”
“You aren’t,” I told him. “What’s your current grade in Pre-Calc?”
“An A.”
“You’re lying.” I didn’t believe him. I mean, I didn’t even have a B in that class. Come on now, Luke could not possibly have a higher score than me. Especially in the hardest subject known to man. Well, next from Physics and the courses that I would face next year and in my college years.
The only reason I wasn’t doing very well in Physics was because my teacher sucked. She would briefly go over the lesson, taking a good ten minutes or so to explain, then she would move to her computer and spend the rest of the period quietly chuckling to herself as she watched stupid YouTube clips with a pair of earphones in. I’ve complained at least three times to Principal Ryann as to why I was nearly failing Mrs. Montgomery’s Pre-Calculus course, but of course, she still works here. And I had no idea why.
“No, I’m really not.” He took my notebook off my lap, snatched my pencil, and copied down the problem. About forty seconds later, he said, “Check the back of the book for the answer.” I did, and I was shocked when I saw that he was right. He flipped back to the page I had previously been using, “By the way, problems one, three, and four are all wrong.”
I grunted. If he got number five that swiftly, then he probably wasn’t lying. Well, I couldn’t quite be too sure of that; he was pretty devious after all. “Wait, you’re not lying to me, are you?”
“No, I’m not. I’m honestly saying that you got all those wrong—because you suck at math, obviously.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I retorted, “I don’t suck at math.”
“According to the three out of four problems you got wrong, you actually do.” I let out what sounded of a mixture of a heavy sigh and a frustrated grunt. “I’d help you, but I don’t like you,” he finally said. “Now are you going to sit here, failing, or are you going to let me use the TV?”
I ignored him, reading over the problem again. Okay, so maybe I actually do suck at math.
“Whatever.” He sat down next to me on the couch, reaching forward for the remote that sat on the coffee table.
“That doesn’t mean you can watch television in here.”
He chuckled, “Like what you say is going to stop me.”
“You’re such a twat.”
“Oh, and look at that. All the fucks I gave just flew out the window.”
Inhaling a frustrated, loud breath, I shook my head and tried to concentrate on my homework. But that was pretty tough to do after the Xbox was turned on. What was even more irritating was when Luke turned the volume up extra loud, probably loud enough to decrease someone’s hearing ability the slightest bit.
I snatched the remote from his grip and lowered the volume. If he was going to ignore me and use the TV when I was trying to do my homework, he could’ve at least had the decency to keep it on a lower volume. “Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m turning the volume down—what does it look like I’m doing?”
“The volume was fine.”
“Yeah, if the word ‘fine’ is your definition of ‘deafening,’ then yeah, it was freaking perfect.”
“Why can’t you just go fail Pre-Calc elsewhere?” he asked, looking at me with a blank expression.
“Why can’t you just piss off? I was here first.”
“Once again, does it look like I care? You probably won’t be able to finish the assignment page, anyway.”
I glared at him. “I fucking hate you.”
“No need to worry, the feelings are mutual.”
I closed my textbook and my folder, officially sick of my homework. Mr. Smyth could give me a zero if I didn’t finish it at all. I was just sick of it. I didn’t ever want to see it again, and if I could burn it up in the fireplace, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. I hated Pre-Calc as much as I hated Luke. “I need a break,” I muttered.
“Does that mean you’re going to go upstairs and leave me the hell alone?”
“You know what, just because you said that, no. I’m going to stay right here.”
He took the remote back from me, turning the volume up to a few decibels higher that what it had previously been. “Well if you’re not going to be doing homework, then I can have the volume up as loud as I please.”
When I tried to take back the remote, he just held it out of my reach so that I couldn’t get it if I tried. I decided not to struggle, seeing as there really was no point to try the first place. I settled back down in my spot next to the bastard, crossing my arms.
I watched as the game loaded up. Occasionally, when the guys would come over, they’d play. Sometimes I’d play with them too. Back when Sam used to live here, the guys came here a whole lot more often. They were like best friends. Eli would still come frequently, since he was the closest.
A couple minutes later, Luke was doing pretty well in the game, with a total of ten kills and eight deaths. It was actually quite interesting to watch. His constant swearing whenever he died paired with his chants of victory every time he got a kill were both beyond entertaining. It was quite hard to hold back a laugh.
He died again. “That same bastard keeps killing me.”
“Getting mad, Luke?” I asked, an amused smirk on my face. He glared at me, re-spawning.
“You couldn’t do any better.”
“But I could.”
“Yeah, and I’m the queen of England. You would probably get killed within the first five seconds of the match.”
I rolled my eyes. “And why do you think that?”
“Look at you. Plus, you’re a girl.”
“That is not only rude, but also sexist. I think I could very well kick your ass if I tried. What are you at now? Ten and nine? You suck compared to me.” Okay, so maybe I exaggerated that a lot, but I was still better than him. I used to watch Sam play a lot, Battlefield being one of his favorite firs-person shooter games. Sometimes he’d let me play, and sometimes we’d just take turns playing.
“Yeah, okay.” The match ended soon. He handed me the controller. “Try to beat that score.”
“Twenty dollars says I can.”
“And twenty dollars says you can’t.”
“Fine then, deal.” We shook on it.
And so I started to play. In the beginning, I wasn’t doing very well. My K/D (kill-death ratio) was at three and zero when I got my first kill. Then I got another kill, and another and another. So by then, I was doing pretty well. And he thought I wasn’t going to beat him. By the time the match ended, my final K/D was at thirty-two and twelve. Luke could suck it.
“I don’t see a Mr. Andrew Jackson anywhere, Luke,” I stated, a confident grin playing on my features.
Hesitantly, with a somewhat shocked expression on his face he said, “You knew you were better than me.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Cockiness gets you nowhere. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. That’s not my problem. Now give me my twenty, please.”
“I’m not giving you any of my money.”
“What? We made a deal. We even shook on it.” I should’ve known better than to trust him.
“And this is me breaking the deal.” He stood up, turning the Xbox off, along with the television.
“Well at least I know that you’re a sore loser.”
“Shut up. You’re irritating.” He was walking off, away from me and to the exit of the living room when my phone started ringing in my pocket. It was Carson calling.
“Yeah?” I answered, tucking the Xbox controller back on the stand next to the game console.
“Hey, Ade. Wes, Dylan and I are having a party later tonight. Come.”
“Do I have to come? I still have some math homework that I have yet to finish.”
“Well, finish it. The party isn’t until like, nine. Just come. Plus, what’s a party without my bestie?”
I chuckled. “Okay, fine. I’ll see you guys later, then.”
“Tell Luke to come, too.”
“What? No.”
“C’mon, Ade. He’s cool. Bring him.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re going to bring him. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye,” I said, hanging up. If I didn’t bring him, Carson would probably end up putting something in my drink, and I didn’t want to take that risk. Again. Last time he put something in my drink, I woke up in a bathtub with a coconut bra and a grass skirt on. My hair had been tied up in uneven pigtails atop my head, and I had crazy makeup on. I was upset to find that the next morning; there were pictures of me on all his social medias. I nearly killed him for that little stunt of his.
I went up to Luke’s room and found that the door was already open. The room was empty. I slowly walked in. “Hey, Luke?”
He walked out of his bathroom off to the right, closing the door behind him. He raked a hand through his hair as he asked, “Why are you in my room?”
“Uh, the guys are having a party tonight, and unfortunately, I have to invite you.” He went over to his dresser and began shuffling through a drawer. “Coming or not?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I had been thinking that maybe he’d turn down the offer, and I’d be able to go to the party by myself and have a good time. But no.
“Okay, well since the party starts at nine, we’ll leave sometime around then. Be ready, or I’ll leave you.”
He continued to shuffle through his drawers, searching for something, as he began to look through every one of them. He moved to the top of his dresser, moving scattering and lifting up objects. Eventually, he stopped. “Fair enough. You can leave now.”
I was about to leave when I asked, “What were you looking for?”
“My flask,” he stated. “Have you seen it?”
I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering why he even had one. “Why do you have a flask?”
“Why don’t you have one?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, I haven’t seen it.”
“Can you keep your eyes out?”
“I mean I would help, but I don’t like you,” I said with a smirk, repeating the words he said to me earlier. Good job, Ade.
“If I help you with your math would you help me look?”
“Why are you so eager to find it?” I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against left shoulder onto the wall.
“I don’t want my mom—or anyone, even—to find it.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have lost it in the first place.”
“Shut up. Do you want help with your homework or not?”
If it were anyone else, I would have taken up the offer in a heartbeat. Pre-Calc would be the end of me. In the end, I would need all the help I could get, because I didn’t understand a good ninety-eight percent of it.
Hesitantly, I said, “Fine, I’ll help you look for it. But you have to help me first.”
* * *
Two and a half hours later, I had only been just over halfway through my homework, and it was just getting harder and more complex. Luke refused to actually do any of the problems, making me do all of them myself. And when I didn’t understand what he was trying to show me what to do, which was actually quite frequently, he got irritated. And then I would get irritated because we was irritated. And so we took our anger out on each other.
“Oh my god!” he cried out. “Are you really that stupid!?”
I stood up, throwing my pencil onto my bed in a furious state. “Hey, I’m not stupid!”
“Then do the fucking problem!”
“I don’t understand it! Just explain it again.”
“No! I’ve explained it at least twelve times already!”
“Well let’s make it thirteen! Please, Luke,” I pleaded. “Come on! If I get a zero on this, my grade will drop, and I already have a D minus.”
He stopped and just looked at me for a good five seconds. Then he laughed at me. “A D minus!?” He laughed some more, clutching his stomach, eyes closed. All of it. No, he wasn’t laughing, he was cracking up. “A-a bloody D?”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay, okay. I-I’ll stop. Oh my gosh, I need to breathe. I might die. A fucking D!!”
“Are you going to stop anytime soon?” I took his extended laughter as a no. “Fine then, I won’t help you find your damn flask.”
“Alright, I’m done. Promise.” His fit of laughter died out, ending with a few chuckles.
“Dickhead.”
He rolled his eyes and sat back down next to me on my bed, causing our arms to brush. “You better understand it this time.”
* * *
“I’m telling you it’s not here!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms up. We had looked everywhere, well most places, twice.
“Yes it is. It has to be here.”
“Why do you so badly not want anyone to find it?” I asked as I shoved my arm down and between the couch cushions of the living room sofa. I retracted it out hastily as my forearm suddenly scraped against some sharp, metal thing, letting out a small “ouch.”
“Because... just because. Now help me find it!”
“I am helping you!” I flailed my arms. “I swear, it’s not here. We would’ve found it already.”
“Yes it is. The only place I’ve been so far is here and school. And I haven’t taken it to school.”
“Then why the hell can’t we find it?”
“Because you’re not looking hard enough,” he grumbled.
I would’ve slapped him, but I didn’t. “Okay, when was the last you saw it?”
“Yesterday when we got back from the beach, I put it in my drawer.”
“Maybe you just accidentally misplaced it.” I sighed. “Try retracing your footsteps.”
He looked at me as though I was a dumb child. “Seriously? That doesn’t work.”
“It’s better than nothing!” I retorted.
“I had gone up to my room after dinner that day and took it out of my drawer…” He was silent for a moment, “After I took a swig or two, I put it on top of my dresser. I don’t think I’ve touched it since then.” He then added, “Wait, no. I brought it downstairs around midnight later on.”
“Why?”
“Couldn’t get to sleep, so I went to the living room to watch some TV.”
“Did you do anything with it later on?”
“Uh, I don’t remember. I was tired and slightly tipsy.”
I felt like face-palming myself. “Of course you wouldn’t remember,” I murmured to myself. “Keep looking down here, I’ll go look upstairs again.” He nodded, and I went back upstairs. I walked into his room. It felt weird to be in there alone.
I began to check under the furniture first. I bent down onto my knees and peered under the dresser, then under the bed and under the desk and under the nightstands that were placed on either side of the king-sized bed. Nothing yet.
If I were Luke, where would I keep my flask?
Walking over to the desk that sat against the far wall, I began shuffling through the stuff that clouded it. I furrowed my eyebrows and picked up a piece of paper. It had a “98%” score scrawled in one of the corners. A scowl covered my face as I saw that it had been a quiz for Pre-Calc. Damn him. I knew he was good, but not 98% worthy. I put the paper down and went over to his bed.
I took the covers in my hands, shuffling through them and looking under them. I looked under all the pillows. Then I paused, a smell—more like an aroma—hitting and filling my nostrils.
Damn, his bed smelled really good. It was like a mix of wonderful things; things I couldn’t quite place my finger on. The scent was strong, yet discreet. It was there, but not striking or overwhelming. It was comforting, and oddly enough, I found it attractive. Probably more than I should’ve.
Author’s Note: Yeah, terrible place to end the chapter. It was really abrupt. But the chapter was getting pretty long, so yeah. There it is, chapter five :)