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She sets it on the front corner desk, and I watch as the bucket is passed back to the other kids sitting in the row after each person takes their number.
When it’s my turn, I grab a number and see I got eleven. Having no clue what that means, I fold it up and place it on my desk. I take these few seconds to close my eyes to get a brief moment of sleep until the bucket makes its way around the entire classroom.
“Does everyone have their number?” Mrs. Anderson asks, and the class mumbles their response. “Who has number one?”
Two people raise their hands, and she asks them to state their names, which they do. Then, she goes down the list until she gets to eleven.
I hold up my hand, not paying attention to who else in the class does too. Before she even asks, I say, “Dalton,” in a tone that tells her I’m bored and over this already.
“Natalie,” I hear someone else say from a few rows up, and I instantly cringe inside.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I drop my hand with a slam on my desk probably harder than necessary, but having Natalie as a partner absolutely will not work.
Marcus turns to me with his eyes wide, and I shake my head with a laugh.
Just my luck that I get Natalie Spencer, the only person in this entire fucking school I stay as far away as possible from. Well, her and her brother, Thomas.
If you’ve heard of the Hatfield and McCoy family feud from the 1800’s then you’ll understand why this is not humanly possible for us to be partners. To say our parents despise each other is the understatement of the century.
We spend the rest of class listening to Mrs. Anderson explain how the partner assignments will work and what our first assignment will be together. Once it’s over, I grab my things and head to her desk.
“Mrs. Anderson, there’s one slight problem,” I state firmly.
She looks up from her desk, and I watch as her eyes move to what is going on next to me—or rather, I should saywhois standing next to me.
Mrs. Anderson holds her hands up. “Don’t ask me to change partners.” Her tone lets us know right away that this is final. “I know your families have history, but I don’t care. This is supposed to mimic real-life situations, and I think it’s perfect. I guarantee, at some point, you will have a co-worker you won’t like, and there’s nothing you will be able to do about it. Treat this the same way. Figure out how to make it work.”
She gets up and walks away without listening to a word I have to say.
I look at Natalie, only to see her huff off.
Fucking great way to start my senior year.
I head out of the classroom and go straight to the area we all hang out at during passing periods.
Marcus is telling a story, and everyone covers their mouth, saying, “Oh shit,” when I walk up.
“And here’s the unluckiest guy in school now.” Marcus acts like he’s going to punch me in the stomach but stops short.
“Ha-ha. Not funny,” I deadpan.
“I think it’s hilarious!” Marcus laughs.
Maya—who’s been consideredone of the guyssince we were little because her dad, along with Ben and Eli’s, all started TimeLand with my dad, so we all grew up together—comes up and puts her head on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “You’ll be okay. At least we know she won’t bite.”
I push her off me as she falls into a fit of giggles.
“You all suck—you know that?” I point to them.
Marcus and Maya are two peas in a pod, high-fiving each other, while Eli is looking like he couldn’t care less as he grabs his phone from his back pocket and starts to type something out.
I plop down on the couch we had our parents buy for the school that sits in the hallway entrance where the area is bigger so we’d have a place to chill during passing period. Ben is leaning up against the arm of the couch, flirting with a freshman, I presume. I push him out of the way so I can put my arm on the rest, like it’s supposed to be used.
Maya stares at Ben for a brief second before she sits down next to me, and we meet eyes. She doesn’t say anything. Just smiles. I give her a fake cheesy grin back.
This is her thing. No one can be mad long. She won’t allow it. She says life is too short for anger. She’s been this way ever since she lost her mom seven years ago. I know it’s a good outlook to have, but sometimes, I just want to smother her happiness.
