Mr and Mrs Nemesis✔️

Chapter Five - Two Spoonful's of Corneas

I empty my locker with my top pulled up over my nose, a barrier between my fragile senses and the still pungent smell of fish that lingers. So much so, that I've literally got a bottle of berry scented air freshener taking residence in my locker, which I spray until it's particles are visibly floating in the air in front of me. Other than the fact it evokes asthma attacks in everyone in a five mile radius, I'd say that it serves me well. Of course, the smell wears off and eventually, the horrific smell of dead fish returns.

I'm not even sure how long it'd had been in there for. I mean, the smell has managed to cling to everything - the spare jacket I've since thrown away, convinced that even after two boil washes, it still stunk of fish. My books were more fortunate - a couple sprits of perfume seems to have handled their smell, although I'm still paranoid and most days now, I'll spray them in a morning. What a way to start the school year.

Personally, I don't think firecrackers in his car exhaust was retaliation enough for Elijah putting a dead fish in my locker, but apparently, it's classed as criminal damage and I'm 'lucky' that he didn't have me arrested. Quite the statement coming from someone who doesn't mind breaking and entering into someone's locker. Talk about hypocrisy.

"Prick." I mutter to myself as I earn some rather disgusted look from a pair of girls that walk by, becoming victim to the remaining scent, which I can tell by how they cover their noses theatrically with their hands and scuttle off.

"That's charming." I clench my jaw at the familiar voice - the voice behind the fish-locker extravaganza, actually - and slam my locker door shut, not ignorant to the tremble that vibrates across the wall it sits on.  "You woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning?" He asks me playfully, sporting that boyish grin he always does, his head tilted in a way that lets a rebelling strand of hair fall astray over his forehead.

I let my t-shirt fall from over my face, displaying my frown which only seems to make him smile more. "What do you want Hendrix?" I ask sharply, hoisting my bag up to my shoulder. He holds out his hand expectantly, palm up, as he leans against the line of lockers in a nonchalant manner, even going so far as faking a yawn. "What's this?" I ask lamely.

"I'm saving you the embarrassment of having to ask for my number Osborne, say thank you." He says.

I scoff, folding my arms in adamance. "And you just assumed I want your number?" He grins at me, sending me a wink which makes me physically cringe.

"No, I'm knowing you'll need it for when we've got this baby and you need daddy Hendrix to come and save the day." I scrunch up my nose in distaste, despite the fact that he's not all wrong. I imagine my parenting skills will be somewhat challenged, what with me having absolutely no experience, but Hendrix has a younger brother which might actually make him slightly more prepared for our robot child, not that I'd ever admit it.

Instead, I open my phone to the contacts page and thrust it towards him, muttering in distaste, "Daddy Hendrix", mocking the nickname he's apparently deemed himself.

After logging his number into my phone, that smug grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth, he throws me a fleeting glance. "I like the way it sounds when you say it." He jokes, evoking yet another shiver from me.

"I'd rather spoon out my eyeballs than ever call you that." I assure him haughtily, accepting my phone as he returns it. He's quick to pass his own phone to me, encouraging me to add my number by having the 'new contact' display already waiting for me.

"That's not very nice to say to the father of your child." He gleams, watching as I type in my number into his phone. I decide to name myself aptly as 'Mike Tyson', a subtle gloat to the time I knocked him out, splitting his eyebrow as an additional victory. That was a good day.