Crossing Jupiter (#Wattys2015)

Chapter Four

"Put your backs into it ladies! Don't tell me you can't stir a batter by hand!"

I moan. Why did I ever sign up for baking? I can't make anything edible for the life of it.

Plus, Ms. Nedar thinks baking is ROTC, and if you mess up a recipe, expect to run a lap around the school.

"I'll know if you added extra sugar!" She screams.

My partner, Han, pretends to look busy. So far, she's been doing all the heavy lifting, considering that she has the highest marks in class. But then again, we're partners in English, where it's vice versa. So I guess you could say it's a win-win situation. Yet the only thing we have in common is our hate for Ms. Nedar.

It's not like we try to hate her. It just, happened.

She's just too serious about everything. Maybe it's because she has something going on at home. Either way, I want to like her. There's a certain spunk about her that gives an edge, in a cool-teacher way.

Han nudges my elbow. "Should we sneak a little cinnamon?"

I roll my eyes. "What, so we can become her new punching bag?"

"I heard she likes cinnamon."

"I also heard she's allergic to chocolate."

She smirks. "I'll keep that in mind."

Pots and pans clang together as everyone scrambles to complete the cookie dough and shove it in the oven. I quickly grease a cookie sheet as Hans scoops up the batter and forms perfect circles out of them. Ms. Nedar scans the area for any mistakes, but so far she's pleased.

"First week and I'm already failing this class," I mutter.

Ms. Nedar shoots me a glare.
You're not going to scare me. I've dealt with bigger bullies back in Connecticut. Yet, I still can't get over how, of all classes, I chose baking. I have my moms baking skills, and that only extends to broth.

Maybe it was the guidance counselor's aura that threw me off. That place is dark as hell.
Before I went in, Jasper whispered, "If Hollister and Hot Topic had a baby, it would be the spitting image of that place."

I hate guidance counselor's. They all say that they're here for you and that they want to help you, when in reality, they could care less. If you ever have a question, you have to put in a request form to arrange a meeting with them. They get back to you a month later, and by then, there's no point. Like, excuse me, but how can you help me when you have no time to?

They all say that they're so busy because tons of kids need help, but they don't. Everyone hates the guidance counselor's. When they're supposed to be supervising you at lunch, they're on their phone. Then they yell at you for wearing something that shows the slightest hint of skin. And if you're emailing a teacher, they'll confiscate your phone.

"They insulted me for wearing black and listening to metal," Derek murmured. "Said that I'd never be successful in life. Yet when I insulted them, I get suspended? It's so unfair."

"Life's unfair," I replied. "Life will always be unfair. The hardest thing is accepting that."

The oven beeps, signaling that the cookies are ready. I jump out of my chair and pull them out, covering it with a cloth so it can cool. "I heard that you're going to be running the paper," Hans smiles. "It's all over the school. Most people think it's a joke, but those who read think it's cool."

"I haven't even gotten started yet, but I have a few ideas. I'm the only one on the team though, so it may take some time."

She wiggles her eyebrows. "Maybe you can ask Bayden. I'm sure he'd love to pitch in."

"Why is everyone pestering me about him? Bay is nice and all, but I don't see the big problem. He was the first person to reach out to me when we moved. Plus, I only met the guy a week ago, so it's not a big deal."

"He never talks to anyone, so if he's talking to you, he probably sees something in you. Something he likes. And trust me, that is a big deal."

I grin. "Maybe it's something you like. Did you ever like him?"

Han crosses her arms. "In the first grade I did. But it's high school, and things have changed."

"Nothing has changed, if anything you'd probably like him more. I'd say go for it; you two would be cute together."

"It would be like an elephant and a giraffe. It doesn't work." She says.

The familiar hum of the bell sings in the air. I quickly shove the cookies into a container and hand them to Ms. Nedar.

"Drop by my house after school; maybe we can talk a little more." I whisper.