Eversweet ♥

Chapter 2 ♥

“What? Yeah I’m fine. Yeah I’m just fed up with Heather’s bullshit that’s all,” I say looking around. The hallways are mostly empty and if I’m late to Mr. Johnson’s calculus for the third time this week I’ve got Saturday detention, which is not happening.

            “Oh okay, don’t let Heather get to you she’s not worth your time.”

            Like this is what I’m talking about. If Heather had done this before the Fourth of July incident he would’ve said something like “That bitch. Trust me we’ll get her back and she’ll wish she had never thrown gum in your hair in the first place,” or something along those lines. Now he’s sensitive and touchy-feely around me which isn’t okay. What I’d give to go back the middle school and not have to worry about feelings and “love”.

            “Oh, um yeah I know. Thanks but I gotta get to class before Mr. Johnson flips out on me again,” I say as I turn around pretty much dart away from him.

            My head is down as I walk into Mr. Johnson’s class, he’s already started teaching and class has begun. He throws me a dirty look but thankfully says nothing. I go all the way to the back hoping to attract no attention.

            “Great news class, we’re switching seats!”

            Shit I groan. This class has had it coming though because with our seats now nobody pays attention. He walks up and down the aisle telling each individual person who they will be sitting next to the rest of the year. Our rows are in pairs now and everyone will have a “seat buddy”.

            “Scarlett you will be sitting in the fifth row next to the window with Jesse.”

            Jesus Christ I can’t get a break today. No seriously I’ve been in school for what—two hours? And yet everything possible to go wrong has gone wrong.

            I moan as I get up and saunter over to Jesse who is deeply immersed in the book he’s ready. It’s a title I recognize considering I’ve read the whole library just about three times.Readingis my escape out of this twisted world that we call society.

            I sit down and throw my bag on the floor obnoxiously loud, he says nothing, doesn’t even look up from his book. I clear my throat trying to show him that I’m his new seat partner and I’ll be the person sitting next to him for the rest of the year. If he notices he doesn’t show it, so I just awkwardly sit there not saying anything, doodling on my notebook. Even though I do legitimately feel bad for what happened back in the hallway I feel as if he doesn’t deserve an apology. He can’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m sitting next to him so why should I take my energy and say sorry.

            Class starts and I’m becoming deeply absorbed into the lesson. Calculus is by far my favorite subject. Yeah I know—what kind of normal seventeen year old girl enjoys calculus? But I wouldn’t necessarily classify myself as a normal seventeen year old girl.

            Two years ago I was baking cookies with my mom. We used to do it all the time; it would be our “bonding” time basically. This was a little bit before the Fourth of July incident, actually. My mom never made anything awkward and I always went to her for whatever problems I was having. Anyway, it was a Saturday afternoon and Autumn was showing us its glorious signs of arrival with cloudy skies suffocating our small Texastown. The mail man had just showed up at our mailbox delivering magazines, bills and most importantly my report card. Now, my Dad had died three months earlier and you saying I was distraught would be the understatement of the century. I was just pretty bitter at everybody and everything. I stopped trying in school and cut off the few friends I had except for Adrian, obviously. During those times when I just wanted to end it all and was too upset to care he was my rock. He was pretty much the reason why I really hadn’t done something stupid. Months had passed and I still wasn’t taking it well. Well, long story short my report card was straight D’s and I knew it. My mom was pissed beyond thoughts. School was the only thing she genuinely asked me to do. She pays for my clothes and my books and everything I ask her for and the only thing she asks for in return is to do my best in school.

            “Scarlett, you know I don’t ask for much—Hell, I ask nothing of you yet the one thing I do you screw up. Why Scarlett? I understand that you’re upset but, baby, it’s been three months. Failing school isn’t bringing him back. He can’t ever come back no matter what you do. So snap out of your day dream and face reality.”

            As much as I’d known that I didn’t want to believe it, so her saying that was practically a slap in the face, a punch in the gut—whatever you want to call it, making me mad beyond belief. Who was she to tell me my dad would never come back? Anger fumed through me like crashing thunder shattering from the sky making me almost twitch from rage. How dare she say that as I’m mourning over the death of my father and more importantly her husband? How can she stand there and say that to my face and feel no remorse? Thoughts had flooded my mind faster than speeding bullets and before I knew it the vase on the table shattered into billions of pieces.

           My mom screamed and fell back off the chair. Her face eight sheets whiter, with panic sprawled all over it. I stood there still shaking from fury and baffled at what I’d just done. She looked at me with terror, probably wondering how her freakish child just broke a vase without even so much as touching it. Then I started to cry. I cried and I darted out of the house running the four blocks to Adrian’s house. No matter what the circumstance he would be there for me to soothe my hysterical sobs. I didn’t tell him what happened and he didn’t ask. He just comforted me and wiped away my tears telling me everything would be okay, and that was all I needed.