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“What do you know about Natalie?”
“Spencer?” she asks with a scrunched face.
“Besides that she’s a raging bitch?” Ben says before I can answer, making me chuckle a bit.
“Yeah. Remember we’re doing this project together? Well, we should be, but she won’t help me, so I’m stuck trying to figure things out about her on my own.”
“See, my point exactly.” Ben snaps his fingers, proud that he was proven right.
“Maya, please help. You know everyone at school. What can I write about? All she gave me is, she loves horses and wants to run her ranch when she graduates.”
“That’s a given with her dedication to FFA at school,” Maya responds.
“Dedication? What, besides raising her animals?” I ask, confused.
“She’s the FFA president. Has been for the last three years.”
“I didn’t even realize FFA had a president,” I state truthfully.
She laughs. “Yes, they have a president. She runs that whole thing. I heard someone talking about how they didn’t know what they were going to do without her next year.”
I scribble some notes on my paper, then look back at them on the phone. “Anything else?”
She squints her face. “She played clarinet in the fifth grade …” She’s obviously just as clueless about her as I am, and her expression says so.
“Everyone played clarinet in the fifth grade,” I say with a sigh.
“No,” Ben says. “I played trumpet.”
“Ugh, that thing was so annoying.” Maya shakes her head at the memory.
“You loved me practicing on the phone with you,” he responds.
“That’s a big fat no!” She laughs. “That thing hurt my ears.”
“Your ears? Do you remember what a clarinet sounds like?” he taunts back.
“Okay, back to me. Hello? I have a paper to write.” I’m starting to panic slightly with the lack of information we all know about her.
“Sorry, Dalt. Maybe check the yearbook. I’m sure you’ll find some info on her in there.”
I hop up to where I keep my yearbooks on my shelf in my room. “Good idea. Thanks!”
“Have fun writing your paper as I go back to taking a nap on Maya’s lap,” Ben calls out right before I hang up.
Opening the yearbook, I flip to the back, which has an index of what pages people are on. I learn that she’s not only in FFA, but she also had a role in the school play and is on our student council. I figure I have enough to write what I need and close the yearbook to get started on my paper.
Wednesday morning, I walk into class, feeling like I just want to go back to bed after the horrible night’s sleep I had, when I’m greeted by Mrs. Anderson.
“Dalton, I’d like to speak to you and Natalie after class, please.”
I force a nod and a tight smile. “Sure thing.”
I was proud of what I came up with for the assignment to turn in yesterday with the little info I’d had, and I still turned it in on time, but obviously, Mrs. Anderson doesn’t agree.
I take my seat and watch as Natalie enters the room and is greeted with the same lovely message. I wait for her to at least glance my way, but she ignores the fact that I’m sitting right in her line of sight as she heads toward her desk. She doesn’t spare me one glance all throughout the class.
Once the bell rings, I gather my things and step up to Mrs. Anderson’s desk, waiting for Natalie to do the same.
