You and me | Pacey Witter

fourteen

PACEY SPRINTED through the hallways to find his girlfriend. When he did, he grabbed her by her waist and spun her around in excitement. Aurora laughed at the unexpected cheeriness from the boy. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at him, as soon as he set her back down. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

At the moment, Aurora didn't feel the best after her chat with her uncle the other day, but seeing Pacey so happy, cured her in that moment. Pacey shrugged, "oh, nothing. I mean, I just ended my academic watch, no big deal."

Aurora's jaw dropped as she smiled, "wait what?" she exclaimed.

"Yup, and would you like to know the reason for that, Miss Benson?" Pacey asked which made Aurora nod, eagerly. "I scored three b's, and 2 a's on midterm!" he exclaimed, loudly which earned some looks from the people around in the hallway.

Aurora's eyes widened as she scoffed out a laugh, "oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Oh, my God. Pace, I'm so proud of you," she gushed as she threw her arms loosely around his neck. "I knew you could do it."

Pacey wrapped his arms around the girl as well. He rested his chin on top of hers, a small smile making its way to his face, he wasn't used to hearing those words, and it felt good to hear it from someone he loves. "Thank you."

Aurora placed her hand on the side of his cheek as she pulled away from the hug and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. The kiss didn't last too long. "Okay, okay, that's enough. I don't exactly enjoy watching my sister and best friend making out," Lucas commented as he walked past, stopping near them.

The couple pulled away and smiled at one another before they turned around to one another. The school bell rung indicating for the kids to get to class. "I'll see you later. Gotta go to Peterson's, wish me luck. Come on, Luke."

Aurora watched as the two boys walked down the hallway to their class. Aurora closed her locker shut and smiled one last time before she turned around and began to head to her classroom.

- - - - - - - - - - -

MR. PETERSON made his way up and down each aisle to collect the poems of the students in the classroom. Lucas held his up in the air and felt it get snatched up by the teacher. Mr. Peterson stopped by beside Pacey, who had begun to search through his notebook. "Mr. Witter, empty-handed, I presume?" 

"No, it was in here," Pacey told the man. "I mean, I had it at the locker." Based on his tone, you could tell a grin had been on his face. "I just- I must've left it right here in my binder," he stated, holding his paper up with a small chuckle.

Mr. Peterson took up his paper, an eyebrow raised as he scanned over the words on the paper. "Ode to the sports car," he read off the paper. Lucas smiled as he looked down at the table, shaking his head.

"Yeah, trust me. They're more exciting than Grecian Urns."

He ignored everything that the boy had just said. Instead, he found a way to hate on his paper. "Experimenting with cursive for the first time, Mr. Witter?" he questioned with a judgmental look on his face.

Pacey sighed, "listen, I worked hard on that."

"I'm sure," Mr. Peterson responded before he turned to continue his way up to his desk. "However, you neglected penmanship, and presentation is half the grade, so as I see it, you have two choices: you can bring the poem in tomorrow, written legibly and lose points for handing it in late, or you can hand it in as it is, and the highest grade you'll see will be your old friend, the letter 'd'."

Lucas scoffed, "you can't do that. He worked hard on that!"

"On the contrary, Mr. Benson, I can," Mr. Peterson replied, "and I'm afraid he didn't work hard enough on it."

Pacey frowned, "that's not fair."

"Fairness is overrated," he replied.

Pacey glanced back at Lucas, who leaned forward in his seat to hear, and Jack who sat beside him and whispered, "is it just me or does that man get meaner every day?" he questioned the both of them.

"It's not just you," Lucas replied.

Mr. Peterson turned around, quick, "excuse me, Mr. Mcphee?"

"Um, nothing."

"I trust that your poetry assignment went well, Mr. Mcphee," Mr. Peterson stated, pacing back and forth at his desk, "we're all aware of how critical it is to your deficient grade in this class," he retorted.

"Sure, yeah. It, um, went fine," Jack answered.

"Good!" Mr. Peterson exclaimed with a fake smile plastered on his face. Lucas furrowed his eyebrows at the fake enthusiasm. "Then perhaps you would like to read your poem for the class?" he asked.

Jack's eyes filled with panic as he adjusted in his seat, uncomfortably. "Um, you said that these poems were just for you."

"I changed my mind," Mr. Peterson informed. "These things happen," he shrugged as he talked. "Please, read us your poem."

Jack looked over at Pacey and Lucas with a panicked tone. He scoffed out a small nervous laugh as he looked back up at the teacher. "Um. I'd rather not," he replied, trying to reason with Mr. Peterson.

Mr. Peterson sat at his desk and put on his glasses. "Mr. Mcphee," he spoke with a low tone. "What you would rather do is of no importance to me," he retorted, blandly.

"If it's okay with you, can I just hand it in?" Jack asked.

"Read the poem."

"Please I don't-"

Mr. Peterson leaned back in his chair; his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the Mcphee boy. "We're waiting," he announced. This time his tone was impatient and annoyed. Lucas glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Jack swallowed the thump that had formed in his throat. He licked his lips and glanced down at his desk. He stood up and held his paper with his shaky hands. "Um," he stammered, taking in a deep breath. "Today. Today was a day the world got smaller, darker. I grew more afraid. Not of what I am, but of what I-"

Jack hesitated and looked up at Mr. Peterson, silently begging with his eyes for him to stop this. Mr. Peterson didn't care on how he felt, as long as someone felt miserable, he was fine. "Continue."

Jack's breath was shaky as he glanced around at his fellow classmates before his eyes landed back on the paper. "Uh, I grew more afraid. Not of what I am, but what I- what I could be," he continued.

As Lucas listened to the poem, his eyes widened slightly as he let the words process in his head. He understood why Jack didn't want to read the poem out loud now. He was shocked to say the least.

"I loosen my collar to take a breath, my eyes fade, and I see- I see him, the image of perfection. His frame strong, his lips smooth. I keep thinking, what am I so scared of? And I wish I could escape the pain, but these thoughts, they invade my head, bound to my memory. They're like shackles of guilt." Jack couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "God, please set me free. Excuse me."