We've all heard and devoured the classic trope involving the shenanigans of a jock, a princess, a nerd, and a criminal. Although who knows of the trouble capable of ensuing when The Breakfast Club isn't PG-13 anymore?
That's the 2007 freshman batch...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
11th July 2007
"To A," I carefully pen the note and slide the same inside his locker. If this does not do the deed, then I don't know what will.
I admit this is something I didn't think I would have to resort to, but it's the only way of knowing if he remembered any of it. Pathetic as it maybe, I often envy George and the impressions he proudly wears on his collar bone, ones that have 'Emma' written all over them. Of course, it's just a hunch... but I would love for it to be true.
Once done with my mandatory cigar break, I walk over to the environmental sciences class on the first floor of the left wing— the only one I can bear sitting through. The class is filled with chatters as pairs worked on their last minute assignments due in less than fifteen days. Everyone but one of them has slipped into a state of panic.
Jake Presley. There's something amusing about him; the way his spectacles rest on the bridge of his nose, the nerdy ruffle of his hair, and the Jon and Garfield T-shirt he has on for the most. I would say he is nothing like any guy I have ever met, but I also know that he's been one of the many to be happily wrapped around Rachel Stinson's little finger, so... I guess everyone has their own flaws.
"Do you mind?" He pulls his specs up, staring daggers at me until I realise I'm in his way.
I step aside, feeling heat rush to my cheeks in a way I had ever known of. I shrug it off eventually.
My partner for the project is already waiting for me at our table, and I barely even exchange a few words with him before Archie comes storming in. He looks at me intently before dragging me by my arm, despite the teacher's constant protests. I was awaiting this, but I didn't expect for it to happen so soon. My lips barely stretch into a smile before he lets go off my hand and I almost lose balance.
"I want you to answer this, and I want you to answer straight. Where is Emma?" Huffing and restless, our proximity borders on inducing sparks, and yet his tone indicates we cannot be farther away. This isn't even close to what I was expecting.
"I don't know, I haven't seen her," I try to dismiss him, but he manages to pull me by my wrist and pin me against the wall, flushed. The closeness, the tension, it propels my heart to slip off its static cord and beat in a shuffled pattern instead, the track switching with every twitch of his lips. All in all, it did not feel good.
"If you don't tell me where Emma is, I can promise you that one of us will get detained today." He pulls out a folded note from his jeans, while his free hand rests on the wall, still blocking my path. "I have one of your most precious things, your heartbeat, but it's too bad that she is about to leave you soon," he reads out of the piece of creased paper. "What does this mean, Mia? I swear if you hurt Emma in any way, you will see the worst of me." His tone alone sends shivers down my spine, so I avoid whatever monstrosity is brewing in his russet eyes. Instead, I snap my gaze to the chipped plaster of the wall, breaking apart like the tension in the atmosphere.
