Saving the Reject | Michael Clifford | Editing

t w e l v e ;

Charli

My Thursday started off as any other day would, until lunch.

Michael and I have never exactly talked to each other in school - excluding fifth period - so I was surprised when, only moments after getting Evie up on FaceTime, he came bounding down the hall towards Scarlett and I, a gigantic smile on his face.

"Hey Michael," I said, looking up at him from my spot where the wall meets the floor in front of Scarlett's locker. I can't explain why the two of us sit in the halls for lunch; it's just what we've been doing since our first year. But it's nicer than the cafeteria, quieter, easier to talk to Evie without background noise.

In my peripheral vision, I could see Scarlett looking confusedly from me to Michael, and I could hear Evie, unaware of Michael's presence, saying, "Wait, what?" But Michael didn't even acknowledge either of them.

He held out a hand to me, offering to help me up, saying, "Come with me."

I curiously took his hand and let him pull me up. "Where are we going?" I asked him.

"I got my math test back today, and my teacher wants to talk to you."

"Oh," I said. Of course that's what it's about. I turned to Scarlett with a reassuring smile. "Ten minutes, I promise."

Still confused, my curly-haired friend nodded, dismissing Michael and I. That second, I realized how confused Scarlett must be. I'd completely forgotten to tell her or Evie or even Dawson - okay, well, that was intentional - about Michael. I'd explain to her when I got back.

"So what's this about?" I asked Michael as we turned a corner.

"See for yourself," Michael responded, turning into a classroom sooner than expected. His math teacher is Mrs. Wilson? She was my favorite teacher, possibly ever.

When the large, motherly lady looked up from her computer and caught sight of me, a gasp fell from her lips, followed by blissful laughter. God, I miss her class. "Oh, I should've known it was you, Charli!"

"Mrs. Wilson! It's so great to see you!" I said, running over to hug her. I told you, she is my favorite teacher. She's like a mother to me. Freshmen year, I'd spend my time afterschool with her; not because I needed help with math, but simply because I had nowhere to go, and she was here to listen. She's an angel, I swear.

"You too, love!" she said, giving me a tight hug, before stepping back to look between Michael and I. "So, Michael, I'm proud of you for seeking extra help, especially from Charli, here. Very good choice."

Michael looked over at me, with a proud smile. "I know it was."

That gave me an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"And Charli," Mrs. Wilson said, bringing my attention back to her. "You must be proud! Michael got one hundred percent on his last test!"

I looked to Michael, happily surprised, while he hadn't even looked away from me, a now smug expression taking over his features. I helped him pass his test.

"Oh, and that's not all. Michael, you'll be please to know that this test single handedly brought your grade up a full percentage. That was enough to change you grade from a D+ to a C-." She had Michael's full attention now, and his eyes had brightened with each word she spoke. "As of right now, you're passing my class well enough to graduate. Congratulations!"

Maybe teaching would be a good thing for me to look into.

The moment Michael and I stepped out of Mrs. Wilson's classroom, I was picked up off my feet and spun around in a Clifford hug. His adrenaline transferred to me, and I found myself giddily laughing as Michael finally put me down, however, not letting me out of his hug. Michael's hugging me. Michael's hugging me.

"Thank you so fucking much," he whispered into my hair. At his comment, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him back.

"And you said this would be a lose-lose situation for you," I muttered back sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up."

* * * * * *

"So, Michael Clifford, huh?"

Scarlett brought this up the literal second I got in her car, only moments after she skeptically watched me wave to him from the other side of the parking lot. "Yeah, what about him?"

She shrugged, turning the key in the ignition, and backing out of the parking space. "I just didn't know you were into bad boys - "

"What?"

" - I mean, I don't have a problem with it, I just always thought you'd end up with someone like Noah."

"Wait, Scar - "

"No, it's fine, Char," she said, finally looking at me. "Just because I don't particularly like relationships, doesn't mean I won't support you if you wanted to - "

"Scarlett, I'm not seeing Michael like that!" I said loudly as she pulled up to a red light. "I'm told you, I'm tutoring him. I don't even know if you could call us friends." It was true: I really didn't know if I could call him a friend, and Scarlett was thinking he and I were in a relationship? "He doesn't like me that way, Scar, and he won't."

"What ever you say. . ." she said, shaking her head.

"Besides," I continued, sitting back in my seat. "It would never work. We're too different."

Why did it hurt to hear myself say that?