1 0
My Seat
I've never seen myself as an artistic person. Back in Beach Way, I was more athletic than anything. Sure, I'm lazy when it comes to a lot of things, but when it's something I'm actually passionate about? There's no stopping me.
Well, that's not entirely true. Swimming was my passion, and my school had certainly stopped me from doing that.
Losing swimming meant finding something to put all my energy into. Other than my relationship with Liam—that I had completely thrown myself into—I had nothing else, so I turned to my studies.
Honestly, I kind of regret that choice, due to all of the AP classes Arlin Preparatory has placed me into. The only time I can catch a break, other than during lunch and health, is my art class.
I let out a relieved breath when I take a seat by the window, happy to have scored this seat and knowing I'm forty-five minutes closer to leaving this hellhole called school.
That relief leaves when someone takes the seat next to me. I've sat alone in the last two class periods, and I figured the day I moved my seat to the window things would change, but I didn't expect to not even have a second alone.
I roll my eyes and look to the person, feeling my breathing stop when I see it's Elijah.
"Uh, hi," I mumble when I realize I'm just sitting here staring at him.
"You're in my seat," he says jokingly, smile beaming at me.
I nod my head. "I assumed this seat belonged to someone else. This view is too good to give up, though. You're not getting it back."
"It's all good," he says through his smile. "Just plug my phone in for me?"
I look to the charger he's handing me, then follow as he motions with his head to the outlet that's below the windowsill.
"Sure thing," I say, taking the charger and leaning down. I go half under the desk to reach, and after plugging it in with shaking hands because I know he's watching me, I start getting up. Of course, I can't ever be smooth and not embarrass myself, as I misjudge how far I move back and bang my head under the desk. "Ow."
"Are you alright?" Elijah asks, concerned. His hand reaches out to lightly touch my head when I finally lean back in my seat. With his hand lightly gripping my head, he uses his fingers to slowly massage where I bumped it. "Are you in pain?"
"Not anymore," I say lowly, immediately widening my eyes after, praying he didn't hear how lame that sounded.
I can't deny that having him massage my head doesn't feel damn good, though. At least not to myself.
He chuckles, still holding my head. "Sure? It sounded painful."
Cause it fucking was! "It sounded worse than it was." I let out a forced laugh, trying to save myself from looking stupider.
"That's the last time I ask you for a favor," he jokes as he pulls his hand away. His expression turns serious. "Are you sure you're fine? You don't need the nurse to check just in case?"
"I'm fine, Elijah," I say with my most convincing smile.
He smiles at his name. "Okay, Lyndon."
The fact that he remembers my name, my real name, not this fake name everyone's given me, makes me feel giddy.
Our interaction is cut short by the teacher, Ms. Fairfull, giving out an assignment. We have to get a pencil and practice shading. I don't understand why the fuck we need to do that, but I guess it's easier than my AP Calc class, so I can't complain.
"Not a fan of art?"
I look up at Elijah, seeing his gaze is focused on tilting his pencil enough to ensure he's only using the side of it, just as our overly, energetic teacher instructed. He's taking this very seriously.
And then there's me, just aimlessly coloring the paper with the tip of the pencil, not giving a fuck.
"She said she's not grading it, so..." I shrug.
Elijah's focus doesn't leave his paper, but he cracks a small smile. "You don't want to practice though, for when she does grade us?"
I shake my head, even though he's not looking. "You know that saying 'work smart, not hard'? I live by it."
His head turns to look at me, and when he sees the serious look I'm struggling to keep on my face, he bursts out laughing. I can't stop my own laughter from coming out.
"There's not an artistic bone in my body. Sadly, I need to work hard," he says when his laughter dies down, turning back toward his paper, finishing his shading just as the teacher approaches us.
"Beautiful work, Eli," she praises. She looks at mine and gives me a sympathetic smile. "Amazing try... London, is it?"
I stare at her in shock. How in the world does my own fucking teacher—with an attendance sheet, by the way—have the wrong name?
Someone calls out for Ms. Fairfull, not giving me the chance to correct her. "Wow."
"Did she just call you... London?"
Elijah looks at me with confusion. "Everyone does. I'm not sure if they're doing it to be assholes, or if they actually think that's my name." Then, it crosses my mind that he's had to have heard it in these last few days. "You haven't heard people talking about the new girl London?"
He shakes his head. "Honestly, I don't pay much attention to anyone here."
Right then and there, I decide we're going to be friends. I need someone in this school who doesn't give two fucks, and with the nonchalant, chill way Elijah just responded, I believe it's him.
"And Fairfull lied," he continues. "That is not an amazing try. She was just being nice."
He motions toward my paper, making me look down and see just how shitty what I drew was. I bite my lip to hold in my smile. "Don't you mean she was just being fair."
Elijah immediately leans back, shaking his head and scrunching his face. "Oh no. No, don't do that."
My obnoxious laughter boils out of me, eventually making Elijah join in and Ms. Fairfull shush us, resulting in us quieting down our laughs, but never actually stopping.
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
I've always hated Mondays because, well, it's a Monday. Who doesn't hate them? But I had a stronger hatred for the day today, considering how shitty Arlin Preparatory High School has turned out to be.
As I hop off the bus, and walk the block and half to my house with Noah by my side, I tell myself that things can't get worse. I'm home now... well, I'm not home, seeing as this will never be my home, but it's close enough.
My new positivity leaves my mind when I barely take a step into the house before I'm being scolded by my mother.
"Lyndon Alessandra!"
Yikes, my middle name? The fuck did I do to piss her off?
I see her small frame marching around the island separating the kitchen and the living room, walking with quick determination to reach me. I look to Noah with helpless eyes, and the jackass cackles at my predicament before stepping aside, out of my mother's path.
"What did I do now?" I ask, wanting to get this scolding over with.
"Where were you this morning?"
"Um, at school? You dropped me there, remember?"
"Yes, smartass, I remember dropping you," she says once she stops right in front of me. I may have six inches of height on her, but she does know how to be intimidating when she wants. "Where'd you go after? Why didn't you go straight into the building?"
All of the intimidation leaves as my anger quickly takes over. I had forgotten about being late to homeroom and the call she'd get as a result, and I probably should have given her a heads up just to save my own ass, but really? Does she have to be so accusing?
Does she have to see the fucking worst in me? Thinking I went off somewhere and did who knows what?
"I did go straight into the building, Mother," I grind out. "I was just late to class."
"Why?" She takes a step closer, hardening eyes staring me down.
My skin feels hot as hell as I catch Noah's eye from over her shoulder and wonder why she isn't harassing him. If I'm remembering correctly, he was standing next to me when the bell rang. He was late, too.
I think of saying this, but passing the blame will only anger Mom more and piss Noah off. I'm clinging to this stupid idea of needing as many allies in school as I can get. Daniel, Rachel, and Elijah are all I have right now, with two of those people being a part of this holy group that's ruining my high school life. I at least need Noah.
"I was in the bathroom," I finally respond.
Mom stares at me, trying to tell if I'm lying. Lucky for me, I've lied so many times that I've almost mastered the act of maintaining a straight face. Between that and the fact that my mother doesn't really know me at all—therefore, unable to spot any cues that I'm lying—she buys whatever I say.
"You were in the bathroom?" She repeats skeptically.
I nod my head. "Taking a shit, to be specific."
The conversation ends there, Mom seeming to be convinced. Once she walks off, toward where I'm assuming her room is, Noah laughs and walks over to me, a yogurt in one hand and a spoon in the other.
"That was gold," he says before putting a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.
"I can't believe—" I start, getting ready to express how unfair it is that I was questioned and he wasn't, but my words are cut off from my phone vibrating. I reach for it and see it's a text message from Liam.
I push Noah out of my way and rush toward my room, ignoring his annoyed shouts.
Li: Hey
What the actual motherfucking fuck?
We haven't talked in days, yet this is all he has to say to me?
I dial his number without thinking, and as soon as the ringing stops, I'm talking before he gets the chance to.
"Hey? Is that all you have to fucking say? I've been texting you every day, asking how's your day or how're you feeling or how's your fucking family, and you never answer! The time you finally respond, all you fucking say is hey?"
"Lyn," he sighs.
"Don't you fucking Lyn me, you asshole! We haven't talked in days. Do you even care?" I cringe at the way my voice cracks on my last words, but I can't stop the hurt from seeping into them.
Yes, I'm mad about our lack of communication. But I'm also hurt. It hurts knowing my last connection to Miami feels like it's slowly slipping away from me. It's enough that the group chat I have with Bea and Jess has been rarely used over the weekend. The girls had promised to keep me updated on all things Beach Way High School, yet I haven't heard anything in the last few days. Bea's been texting me privately, but Jess hasn't.
I can't lose Liam, too. I just can't.
"Of course I care, babe," Liam says, sounding agitated and tired. He sighs once more. "I've just been really busy."
I scoff. "With what?"
I know he rarely takes his studies seriously and that he quit playing lacrosse last year because of his torn ACL. I was the one who sacrificed going out with friends for months so that he wouldn't sit home alone, miserable and in pain. It's almost laughable how I'm the one who's alone, miserable, and in pain now. I may not have broken anything or needed surgery for it, but damn it, I'm hurting.
"Life, Lyndon," he snaps. I flinch, not from the harshness in his tone—that's something I'm used too—but from the use of my full name. It sounds so foreign, yet part of me feels like he doesn't even have the right to call me Lyn. "I'm sorry, I'm just... kind of stressed right now."
Again, I'm used to the apology following whatever outbursts he's just had. And stupidly enough, I feel myself softening at the fact that he's stressed. If it had been any other day under other circumstances, I might've backed down and catered to his needs like I always do.
But fuck that. After the day I've had, I don't care about anyone else but myself.
"Boo-fucking-hoo," I comment. "A simple text saying you were busy or stressed or what-fucking-ever wouldn't have caused you too much trouble, Liam. Ghosting me isn't gonna fix anything."
"I know, babe, I know. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have avoided you—I mean, make you feel like I'm avoiding you," he says quickly, clearly wanting to resolve this issue as fast as possible. "I promise I'll make it up to you."
"How?" I can't help my curiosity, since part of me wishes he'd say he's at the airport right now, eager to see me after weeks apart.
"Our anniversary is coming up," he states.
I smile, glad he even fucking remembered. It's technically the one year anniversary of when he asked me to officially be his girlfriend, but we had been talking and flirting and dating for months before that. "Yes it is. For a moment there I thought we would spend it fighting."
"We won't. We're gonna celebrate it, especially since I need to make up for being so distant lately." He's saying all the right things, making me almost believe this is going to work. I hear the sound of a door opening and someone calling his name. "Lyn, babe, I gotta go. Jack is here, we're heading out."
I narrow my eyes at the fact that he's able to go hang with his friend, but was too stressed to text me. But whatever. "Uh, okay. Bye?"
"Bye, Lyn. I... I love you," Liam says.
"I love you, too," I respond, though the tone of his voice has this feeling wrong.
The words exchanged, the entire situation... it all feels wrong. Something feels off.
I shrug my shoulders and push it aside. I've got bigger problems.
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
For some reason, I'd take another confusing and conflicting phone call with Liam over attending school today. Of course, I spent my first few classes and every passing period in the halls being stared at and whispered about.
I swear these people have nothing better to do with themselves. It's kind of pathetic.
I breathe out a sigh of relief at entering my health class, knowing Noah and Daniel are in it. Finally, I have some friends. Rachel is nice and all, but her constant jabbering on about Jalen and The Boys is getting old.
Noah's sitting in the back corner, focus set on his phone. I take the seat next to him, content with the silence settling over us. No fake pleasantries need to be exchanged, no small talk needs to be made.
Maybe being friendly with my brother isn't all so bad. After all, Noah will always be better company than Knox.
And, of course, the calming atmosphere floods out of the room when I hear a girl announce, "Oh my fucking God! Jalen and David are here!"
My head snaps up so quick I get an ache in my neck, but it numbs when I see those two waltz into the classroom like they fucking own it.
David's the first to notice me with a discontent look, and he makes that very clear by calling out, "Oh nah. Boulevard? You're in this class?"
I groan, annoyed by their presence and his stupid name for me. When I look back that way, Jalen's already staring at me. We keep eye contact for a second, making me wonder what I should do. We haven't talked or seen each other since yesterday morning's hallway conversation.
Before I can even decide to give a polite smile or not, he looks away. He sits at a desk in the front of the class, literally on the opposite side of the room. Once he's seated, he stares ahead with a clenched jaw.
Yikes, he's so mad at me.
David cackles loudly at the distance Jalen's put between us, so I flip him the bird and face the wall.
Noah's tapping me to get my attention, but I shrug him off. "What's that all about?"
"David hates me."
"Damn, it's been like four days. How'd you already manage to get someone to hate you?"
I turn to look at my brother, tempted to smack the smirk off his face. "Is this entertaining to you?"
He holds in his laugh as best as he can and shakes his head, but it's clear he finds it so funny.
"Dickhead," I mutter in his direction before turning again.
The tardy bell rings just as Mr. Gonzalez walks in. "Hello, class. Sorry I was almost late," he attempts a joke, but no one laughs, knowing we'd have been written up if we showed up at this time. "I feel horrible that I haven't learnt a single name yet. So, in order to fix this, I want to give out assigned seats. This way, you're in the same seat every day, making it easier to become familiar with you all."
A chorus of annoyed groans echos around, but I don't mind assigned seating. I rarely talk in class anyway, since I need to pay attention to the lesson. Plus, alphabetical order always works in my favor whenever Noah's in the class. Sure, he's annoying, but at least I know him, and I know he'll leave me the fuck alone. Socializing at home is torture enough for us both.
Mr. Gonzalez raises his hands to shush the complaining. "I know, I know. I'm the worst," he says with an eye roll. "But, I'll make it kind of a fun game for everyone at least. How's that sound?"
"A fun game? I'm intrigued," Noah comments in a weird tone.
I turn to him with narrowed eyes, since using words like intrigued is so not my brother.
"Yes, a fun game, Mr... uh, damn it, remind me the name?"
Everyone turns toward the front of the room, shocked at Mr. Gonzales's profanity. I mean, damn isn't really a curse in my book, but for a teacher at one of the—if not, the most—prestigious schools in New York, that's a curse word.
"Noah Prince," my brother announces with a smile, either loving the attention he's getting from all the girls watching him or liking that this teacher cursed. Most likely both.
"Noah, you can start us off," Mr. Gonzalez announces. I look to Noah with the same confused face he and the rest of the class are giving the teacher. "We're going to use birthdays in order to assign seats."
"And how is that any fun?" David asks from his seat in front, leaning back in his chair enough to have the front lift off the floor.
Please fall, please fall, please fall.
Mr. Gonzalez opens his mouth to respond, but he's cut off by the door opening. It's Daniel looking a little out of breath with a late pass in his hand. "Sorry Mr. Gonzalez, I had to go to the nurse's office."
"You okay?" I hear Jalen ask him lowly when Daniel passes his table.
Daniel nods to him with a small smile, before he directs his gaze to the back where Noah and I are, smile increasing in size when he spots us. He does a little wave, resulting in us waving back.
"He was waving to me," I whisper to Noah once Daniel takes an empty seat in the middle of the room.
"Nah, pretty sure that was for me," Noah snidely replies.
"To answer your question, David," Mr. Gonzalez starts, giving a pointed look at the boy whose name I'm sure he knows because of how much trouble he must get into. "It'll be fun because you're not allowed to talk. You'll have to communicate your birthdays some other way."
That's not fun! That's just more work!
"Noah Prince will start us off by standing up and telling us his birthday without saying it. Everyone will then work off of that, and seat themselves accordingly. I want you in order, meaning people born in the month of January in front, and December birthdays in the back."
Some people still groan in annoyance, while others actually seem happy to try this stupid game. I plan on letting Noah do all the work and just sitting wherever he goes, so I don't care about any of this.
"And this should go without saying, but I expect everyone to participate." Damn it. "Alright, Noah. Begin."
Noah stands slowly, looking around the room while raising two pens into the air, no doubt all for dramatic effect. It takes me one second to realize one of them are mine, so I make a mental note to make sure I get that shit back. He holds them together, forming what looks like an 11 to represent our birth month, November.
We all spring into action after that. It's incredibly silent in the room, no other sounds than the footsteps of everyone shuffling around, trying to find their fellow birth month people.
I hang around in the back of the room by Noah, waiting for people to come to us. Well, to come to Noah, seeing as now everyone knows his birth month, making half of our job easier. Now we just need to organize the dates.
Noah and I exchange a smile at the students in front looking frustrated trying to figure this out. That smile instantly drops off my face when Jalen, David, and Daniel approach us. Even seeing Daniel can't help me now, since him being here means he and his ass of a brother have a birthday around ours.
Noah holds up the two pens to the boys, silently asking if they're born in November. I close my eyes and pray they were born in December. It's still a little too close for comfort, but at least there's a small chance other students will fill the seats between us.
I look over at them and see Jalen nod. Noah places one pen down and holds up five fingers with that hand. I'm not sure if it's clear to them, but I know he's trying to make a fifteen, to represent our birthdate.
David chuckles, then turns toward Jalen. I look at them confused, not seeing what's so funny.
Oh fuck, don't tell me David's birthday is the same fucking day!
I turn toward Daniel with questioning eyes, becoming hopeful for a second that if it is the same day, he can be the barrier between us.
Daniel avoids my gaze, instead focusing on Noah and Jalen's exchange. This makes me look over, too, and I'm not sure if I like what I see.
Jalen takes the pen Noah placed on the table—my pen—and holds it up with one hand, nodding toward Noah to make sure he gets it.
Is Jalen's birthday on the first?
He then places the pen down and holds up six fingers.
Oh fuck. Don't tell me...
Just in case we were too stupid to understand, Jalen walks toward a poster on the wall. There's twenty steps explaining how to buy, put on, and properly dispose a condom, making me distracted as to why this is the poster he had to choose.
Those thoughts leave my mind when he points to the sixteen, confirming my previous thought.
His birthday is November 16th, one day after ours. Which means we'll be sitting together for the whole school year. Great.
David comes up behind us and practically hovers over me as he points to the two and four on the poster. I'm guessing that means his birthday is on the twenty-fourth.
No one else approaches us, so it seems like we're the only late birthdays in the class.
"Alright, how'd everyone do?" Mr. Gonzalez enthusiastically asks a couple of minutes later. "We'll go around the room to make sure we communicated correctly. Take your seats after."
Everyone says their birthday. There were a few mistakes in the month of June, but everyone else worked it out and now we can sit.
I quickly reach for my pen from Jalen—ignoring how it feels when our fingers touch—and rush toward the corner seat in the last row. At least this way, I'm only next to Noah, blocking me from the others.
As I pull the chair out from under the desk, I get shoved roughly to the side.
"The fuck?" I ask harshly.
Did Jalen do that, just because I took my pen back? No way.
My eyes land on the culprit as he's seating his ass onto the chair I had just grabbed.
Noah innocently shrugs his shoulders, acting as if he didn't just push me to the side like a fucking linebacker.
"I was gonna sit there, Noah," I say slowly, as if he's a child who can't comprehend too many words at once.
"Was," he emphasizes with a smile. "My seat now." His eyes then turn toward Jalen, who slowly sinks into the seat two spots down. David plops into the one next to him, leaving Daniel on his twin's other side.
It clicks that Noah didn't want to sit next to Jalen, but seriously? He can't be a good brother for once? I have a better reason to not want to sit next to the guy!
I huff out a breath, ready to start a fight—either verbally or physically, at this point, I don't care—with Noah over the chair, but then I see that not only is Mr. Gonzalez staring at me, but so is everyone else in the classroom.
I refrain from smacking myself on the head for garnering all of this attention my way, all on my own. Can't pass the blame onto Jalen or Malia or David or anyone else from that group.
This is all on me. And I get a sick feeling in my stomach telling me it won't be the last time I do this to myself.
I quickly sit in the empty seat between Noah and Jalen, ignoring my brother's victory smile, and the fact that Jalen's staring straight ahead still.
Mr. Gonzalez goes on to discuss healthy eating and how important it is, but I can't find it in myself to care. I feel so awkward just sitting here, and I can't shake the sick feeling in my stomach.
Did I eat something bad? All I had was a muffin this morning and two bites of the cafeteria pizza at lunch. Maybe I should listen to Mr. Gonzalez's lecture after all, since I clearly don't know how to properly take care of my body.
But that gnawing feeling in my stomach won't go away. Is it my nerves? Why am I nervous?
I glance at Jalen quickly, and see he's drawing something on his paper. It looks like lines and circles to me.
He must sense my gaze because he looks at me, and the blue in his eyes has me turning toward my own paper that—just like his—is lacking the notes for this class.
Noah of course hasn't written a single thing down, no surprise there. I can already hear how Mom will blame me if we both end up failing this class.
She's purposely harassing me, and I feel like she's doing it because I've been ignoring her ever since we moved. She thinks yelling at me and reprimanding me is the only way we'll ever talk, and honestly, she's not wrong.
In the end, she's the reason we moved. I highly doubt Dad begged her, or even fucking asked, for us to move out here.
The reminder of Miami has me reaching for my phone. I shouldn't expect a text from Liam, seeing as things are still awkward between us, but he's at least trying again after yesterday's phone call.
He had called me this morning to wish me a good day at school, and though I missed the call and only caught the voicemail he left, the tone of voice was completely different. Dare I say it or even stupidly believe it, but it sounded full of the love I used to hear when we'd go on dates—just us—only a few months ago.
All of a sudden I realize how much I miss him, and Bea, and Jess, and everyone from Beach Way.
I look toward my phone, ready to text them all, but instead see I have a text from Liam's friend, Jack.
That's weird. Sure, we've talked before because Liam considers him one of his closest friends, and I saved his number because we had classes together, but we've never actually texted that often. Especially not randomly like this.
Oh no. Is Liam okay? Did something happen?
My worries take over as I rush to unlock my phone.
Jack Pierce: Lyn, I know this seems out of the blue. I've never even asked how NY is or how you are, but we need to talk. It's about Liam. I don't want to say it over text, can you call me ASAP?
I take a shaky breath, hand shaking so much from the thousands of theories swirling in my mind that I can barely hold it up properly to catch Mr. Gonzalez's attention.
The second his eyes land on me, I mutter, "May I go to the bathroom? Please?"
I know this period isn't the time we're allowed to use the bathroom. It's stupid as fuck, but Arlin Preparatory put restrictions on the times we can go, as if we can determine when we really need to use it or not.
Either way, Mr. Gonzalez must hear the urgency in my shaky voice, because he quickly nods his head, motioning toward the door.
"You good?" Noah asks me as I rise from my seat.
I brush off the hand he reaches out to me, barely able to stand as I rush out the door.
The classroom door barely closes behind me before I'm dialing Jack's number, not wasting any time.
"Lyn, hey," he says, sounding out of breath.
That's exactly how I feel as I bulldoze through the bathroom door, hoping no one else is in here, because I just know I'm about to hear bad news.
"What happened with Liam?" I skip the pleasantries, worry taking priority over anything else.
He sighs heavily. "Lyn, I—I, I really don't know how to say this."
"Is he okay, Jack?" I push, irritated at his dramatic prolonging.
Jack's laugh comes across the line, but it doesn't sound like a genuine haha, you're funny laugh, it's one of disbelief. "Wow," he breathes out.
"Jack? Come on, just answer. You have me worried as fuck over here."
"Yeah," he says with another laugh, one that sends a shiver down my spine. What the fuck is going on? "I can tell. But don't worry, your Liam is okay. Nothing happened to him."
"Then what's wrong?" I grind out, becoming annoyed at the mini heart attack he almost caused me.
"Fuck, please don't make me regret telling you this, Lyn," he mutters. "Promise not to shoot the messenger?"
My stomach drops. "Just tell me."
"I really don't know how to say this delicately, but Lyn... Liam, he's... fuck." He pauses to curse more under his breath, leaving me literally hanging off an edge of anxiety, waiting.
"Jack, just say whatever it is!" I yell, hoping he'll get angry enough to tell me. I can't take not knowing for another second.
"He's cheating on you, Lyn."
I take back my previous thought. I wish I didn't know that at all.