Stupid Cupid

Be my lesbian baby mama

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Excuse the mistakes

 

Picture on the side is of Parker -->

 

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 “What do you associate with babies?”

“Milfs!”

Mrs. Matthews, my health teacher, crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. The whole class, including me and Maya, who was sitting next to me, turned around to look at the smartass of the class.

Chad Block had a big, arrogant smirk on his face, and his jock buddies were laughing and high-fiving. Chad looked proud of himself and his response, but when I glanced back at Mrs. Matthews, it was clear from her unimpressed expression that she wasn’t entertained.

“Mr. Block, I appreciate the participation,” Mrs. Matthews said tiredly, “but the next time you decide to contribute to the class discussion, make sure your comment is not going to kill brain cells. We only have a limited number, and you, Chad, need them all.”

The whole class burst into laughter, and Chad’s face turned bright red. His mouth twisted into a scowl, and he sank down lower in his chair. Mrs. Matthews was trying to remain impassive and serious, but the slight creases of her laugh lines gave her amusement away.

“Let’s try this again,” Mrs. Matthews stated, giving Chad a stern look. “What do you associate with a baby…” her voice trailed off as she searched the class, and suddenly her eyes landed on me. “Reed?” Mrs. Matthew asked, “How about you?”

“Pooping and crying,” I blurted, accidently voicing the first thing that came to mind.

Mrs. Matthews rolled her eyes and nodded at Maya. “Maya, please, dear God, save me on this one.”

“Responsibility,” Maya answered confidently, and Mrs. Matthews nodded and threw her hands up in the air.

“Thank you!” she cried in relief, and as she started to hurriedly scribble something across the dry-erase board at the front of the room, I turned to look at Maya.

Teacher’s pet! I mouthed, sticking my tongue out.

Maya just rolled her eyes and kicked the bottom of my chair. It pitched backwards, and I saw my life flash before my eyes, which was actually pretty depressing. However, instead of cracking my head against the floor, I grabbed the side of my desk and stopped the chair’s backward motion.

“You almost killed me!” I hissed, jutting my finger out at Maya accusingly.

“You do realize you only fell back, like, an inch, right?” Maya replied, raising an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth to respond, which probably would have been something along the lines of “shut up,” but Mrs. Matthews clapped her hands to regain the class’s attention.

“Alright, kids,” Mrs. Matthews said with a sly smile, “It is time for the stereotypical baby project!” She pulled a tote bag out from under her desk and placed it on the table next to the desk. Then, Mrs. Matthews pulled two egg cartons out of the bag.

“These,” Mrs. Matthews said, holding up an egg in each hand, “Are going to be your babies for the next ten weeks.”

Mrs. Matthews then put the eggs back down and quickly passed out a packet of papers that outlined the project. As I flipped through them, I noticed that this was a partner project. I glanced over at Maya, and when our eyes connected, I knew we were thinking the same thing.