The Bucket List

T h r e e

The next time I see him, it's the first day of the new semester, and he's turning into the boys' bathroom at Bedford High. My brow scrunches in thought. What was he doing here?

As I walk to class, I take in my surroundings and mull over the presence of Jarred. As usual, the halls are crowded with students from ninth grade to twelfth, all trying to reach their homeroom or locker. What luck I have, with them being on opposite sides of the school.

I snap my fingers in a quick beat to refocus. It's a skill I learned when I was young, no older than five, and was begging my dad to teach me something that would impress my friends. And it did impress them for a while, but then I did it too much and it got boring.

Homeroom is the same as usual, which is somewhat of a relief. I didn't complete my personal goals over the break, and some crazy part of me was worried that the teachers would find out and resent me. I don't know where the thought even came from, but the idea of the teachers not being on my side for once stresses me out.

U.S. History goes by a little too slowly, with Mr. Miller droning on about this semester's work and projects in his slightly nasal voice, but I sit straight and listen throughout the whole thing. I brushed my red curls into a neat bun this morning, and before class I stuck a pencil through it, hoping that would make me look smart and ready for the new semester.

Algebra is just as boring, but I do the work and never let a single yawn escape. It's only when I arrive at my physics class that things start to get a little more interesting.

As I enter the classroom, a pair of shocking blue eyes meets mine and I stagger backwards a step. Surveying his dark, somewhat unruly hair, his slightly upturned nose, and his light complexion, I can tell it really is him. Jarred is in my physics class.

Mr. Garcia, the teacher, interrupts my thoughts with a warm smile, holding his hand up for a high five. "Hey, Marcy," he says as I slap his hand back. "How was your break?"

"It was good," I reply, not fully sure that what I'm saying is true. The real answer is that the break was good, but also very complicated, and for more than one reason.

"Glad to hear it," Mr. Garcia gestures to the desk right in front of him. "Have a seat."

"Thanks," I place my bag gently on the floor and risk another glance in Jarred's direction, where I can see him staring right back at me. Breaking eye contact, I slip into my seat just in time to see Mr. Garcia's lax face turn firm and stern, as if he's changed personality within a matter of seconds.

Once the class quiets down, he gets right down to business. "This semester, your grade will be determined mainly on a project you will be doing in pairs. It is worth fifty percent of your grade, and will be exhibited for the rest of the school to see as well." He pulls out a sheet of paper from his bag. "I've already divided you into pairs."

A round of groans echoes up from across the classroom, but it quiets down with one steely glance from Mr. Garcia. I stay silent and focused on my teacher's tan features, not daring to show even a hint of disappointment on my face, no matter how much I wanted to be with Bella in this project. She's always been great at physics, surprisingly.

I wait until my name is called and refocus on Mr. Garcia's words. "Marcy Platt," he begins, glancing briefly my way before focusing on someone else. I don't get enough time to look back and see who before he announces, "Your pair will be Jarred Colton."

All the blood drains from my face with his words, and I whirl around in my chair, meeting Jarred's eyes. He waggles his fingers my way, and I turn back to the teacher immediately. What are the odds I'd be paired with the very same person who's sense of mystery has been tormenting me for the past week?