Destroying Him

Chapter 1

"Goddamn it," I mutter as I accidentally drop my books on the ground. My sketchbooks and books scatter across the busy hall. 

I see a mop of blonde hair in the crowd begin to help gather my things. 

"Dorian Gray?" Dylan asked lifting a book off the ground. 

"Yep."

"How is it?"

"Absolute genius," I responded. 

"I'll walk you to chemistry," he offered. 

"Thanks." 

He helped me put my things into my backpack and lifted it over his shoulder. "How is this so heavy, Ast?!" He exclaimed. 

"I brought my history textbook to school today," I explained.

"Why?!" 

"Because I have a test after lunch and I thought I could get a bit of studying in."

"Nerd."

"You're no better," I teased. 

We turned the corner and entered the science hallway and I immediately saw them. 

Every high school has that one group of guys that radiates testosterone while taking up most of the hall and howling like dogs. They really think they're something, don't they? Little do they know that they look like a group of rabid animals with disintegrating braincells. At the center of all of this chaos was him. Ethan Prescot. Soccer star, Ivy League bound, king of the rabid animals. He had some blonde cheerleader practically grinding against him, per usual. 

"Why is it that every time Ethan Prescot gets a new girl, she thinks she's the new Kim Kardashian?" I asked Dylan. 

"She might be. I mean, didn't Kim get famous after making a sex tape?" He joked. 

"You're right. Could be the same thing," I laughed. "How long do you give this one?"

"About three weeks. You?" 

"No longer than two."

"That's fair."

Since our school did not have a football team, soccer was the sport for the jocks and the cheerleaders. I'm not sure why we don't have a football team. I think that they just did not have a coach or enough players to fill a team. Either way, the lack of a football team made soccer players the cliché popular clique, and Ethan Prescot was at the top, given that he was our star player. 

Dylan dropped me off at my chemistry classroom and I waved him goodbye and walked to my seat. Right before the bell was about to ring, Ethan strutted into the room. God, I was surprised his head still fit the size of his ego. He made his way to the back of the classroom and slouched in the chair with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle and his hands folded across his chest. 

"Alright, class," the teacher, Ms. Jones, began. "The science fair is coming up."

The class let out a moan. 

"I've assigned partners to all of you. Listen for your name. I'm not repeating myself." She took a sheet of paper off her desk and began to read. "Emily and Roan, Simon and Alex, Asteria and Ethan..."

Oh, God. Please tell me that this is a joke. This can't be happening. I've worked too hard for a good grade in this class. 

"Please find your new partner and you have the rest of the period to begin planning," Ms. Jones finished. 

I let out a groan. I didn't do anything to deserve this. There go my hopes of getting into a good college. My GPA will never be the same. 

Okay, I admit that I might be overexaggerating a bit, but this seriously sucks. I'll probably have to do the entire project on my own, but it will be fine. Just fine. 

"Hi," said a deep voice behind me. "So I guess we are partners now."

"Yep. I guess we are."

"Lucky me," he said, flashing one of Ethan Prescot's signature smiles. 

I rolled me eyes and began flipping through my notes in search of inspiration for the project. If I have to do this on my own, might as well start now. 

"You don't like me very much," he said. 

"Not everyone likes you," I retorted. 

"But most girls do."

"Well, I'd like to think that I'm not like most girls."

"So you don't like me?"

"I don't have to."

"Well, we are working on this project together. Might be easier if you liked me," he said. 

"Let's face it, I'll probably be doing this project on my own."

"I like to carry my weight."

"If you say so."

"Alright. Do you have any ideas for the project?"

"Yeah, actually. I made a list." I reached into my folder and grabbed a piece of paper that I scribbled a few ideas on last night. 

I handed it to him and he began reading it. 

"I like the last one," he finally said. 

"Which one?"

"The affect of video games on the nervous system."

"Really? You want to prove that video games are bad for you?"

"I've always had a thing against video games."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What, because I'm a guy I'm supposed to love video games?"

"Don't all guys love video games?"

"Apparently not."

"Hmm," was all I said. 

"So how exactly would this work?"

"The experiment?"

"Yeah. I mean, how do we measure nervous system damage?"

"We don't. We measure cortisol levels. High levels of cortisol cause mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety, and the hormone is produced when under stress. You can test it easily with saliva."

"Cool. When do we start?"