The Last Rose: a romance novel

| January 20, 1994 |

Emi

It was literally impossible to stay awake.

She tried everything, everything, to get her stupid self to stop nodding off. She bet she looked absolutely ridiculous too, her head bobbing up and down every ten seconds because she couldn't find the strength to use her God-given neck to hold up her abnormally dense skull.

She was about to throw her chair across the room and start jogging in place when she heard the boy next to her talk.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

Emi lost her self-control, letting her head hit the desk as she mumbled something incoherent. The boy looked at her curiously.

Still don't know his name, you birdbrain.

She tilted her face to the side and tried again. "I'm just tired."

His brows shot up in amusement and he relaxed upon knowing that she wasn't inflicted by anything serious – just morbid embarrassment for not knowing his name, and a fatal case of exhaustion. He shrugged, "Well, I can't help you with that one. Everyone in this room is suffering right now."

Emi took a quick glance at the other students, even the knuckle-head boys were simmered down and focused on keeping their eye sockets open. Emi smiled at the connotation of that and rose to sit up straight, looking at the boy next to her. "I kinda feel bad for him."

"Mr. G?"

"Yeah," Emi looked at their teacher with sympathy. "He's kinda like a little old grandpa, and I feel bad no one's asking questions. Poor Mr. Gridley."

Just then, a boy with dirty-blonde hair leaned back in his chair, his hand shot up, and Mr. Gridley pointed his way. "Yes sir?"

The boy dropped his hand lazily. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Reality slammed into the old teacher's face, his previous anticipation peeling from the surface and falling pathetically on the floor. He asked, "Again?" Emi quietly chuckled at Mr. Gridley's question, and he continued. "Yes, you can. Take the pass and make sure you don't get it wet."

The boy left and Mr. G continued with his lesson. Emi's desk neighbor spoke again. "That was great timing," he whispered. "It's Emi, right?"

Her face fell and she hesitantly looked his way.

Oh, freaking beans and rice. Guess I'm doing this.

"Yeah...but how'd you know? I don't remember you from last semester."

He looked at her curiously for a moment. "Well, I kinda know because of the attendance before class, and I barely switched to this school."

Emi nodded her head. "Okay...well, what's your name?"

"Chrysan."

"Okay Chrysan. I'm sorry, by the way. I don't really pay attention in this class."

He smirked, "If you did, then maybe you wouldn't always be stuck on the homework..."

She feigned a shocked expression. "Oh – that hurt. I pay attention sometimes..."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes," she repeated.

They focused back on their teacher, Emi trying her best to prove Chrysan wrong by actually following along, but it was just too hard! Half the time, Mr. Gridley messed up his own problems and the students had to correct his work. Why should she stay awake for that? Eventually, the lesson finished and all she had to prove for her efforts was stinging eyes and a slightly amused Chrysan. Mr. Gridley walked around the room, passing out a class assignment and announcing the homework.

They worked separately, Emi only asking for Chrysan's assistance a couple of times. Any more than that, and she would have to start paying him by the hour. But he was a good teacher, and way better at explaining than their old grandpa instructor.

Emi was beginning to actually be grateful that he intervened in her supreme silla situation.

He didn't get annoyed when she had questions, didn't tell her to wait a second. It was like his genetic build was crafted with charity, and that was only the second time they had interacted.

Imagine him outside of Pre-Calc, he must like...save puppies and feed the homeless after school.

Emi thought about that for a moment.

I guess I can let him sit by me, he's not that bad anyway. Plus, I can't seem to concentrate, so I need him to help me with math. Muy bien.

Sway was microwaving a Hot Pocket like a freak when Emi walked through the front door, snow falling unceremoniously on their hardwood floor. Emi dropped her bag on the kitchen floor, shooting her brother a judgmental look, one of her eyebrows raising in a funny fashion. Sway gave her the same look, throwing his arms out in a crazed manner that meant what're you looking at?

She walked over to the kitchen cabinets, grabbing herself a cup and filling it with tap water. She drank fast, relishing the feeling of cool water curing her parched throat.

"Sway, why'd you leave me?" she complained, setting the cup down in the sink and hoisting herself up to sit on the countertop.

Sway looked at his Hot Pocket – spinning in delirium within the microwave. "I was hungry."

Emi frowned, "So you ran home and left me at school? I waited for ten minutes! What have you even been doing this whole time?"

"Deciding what to eat," he offered.

She sighed, "I wish we could get a freakin car, we can't rely on mom like this anymore. It's too cold to walk."

The microwave beeped and Sway opened the door, carefully grabbing the plate which held his very important pizza deliciousness. "I'm not allowed to drive."

"I wasn't talking about you," Emi snickered. "I was talking about me driving. I have my license, you know? I could totally drive us to school."

Sway lifted the food to his mouth, retracting when he discovered it to be too hot. Emi didn't know why he even tried. He started, "You could ask mom to get a car...but she's gonna make you get a job too."

Emi groaned, "I know...but I really don't wanna."

"How else are we gonna pay for it?"

"I don't know," Emi trailed off. She jumped off the counter and grabbed her bag, shooting one last look at him. "You're a butt-nugget Sway."

Sway didn't even fight back when she turned on her heels and walked to her room. He laughed a little, fully accepting the jab because he really did ditch her without a word.

Swine.