If Only I Knew

1: phoebe

I can't be late today.

"Hurry up!" I holler. "My history test starts in less than ten minutes, Mom!"

Footsteps thunder down the stairs and I open the door, leaving it wide open for her as I race to the car.

Why, why, why couldn't have Grandma taken me instead?

"I'm here," Mom pants, sliding into the drivers' seat. "You know, maybe you should get your license."

I grumble as we pull out of the driveway, "Why, so you can spend all day rotting in bed?"

Mom is an author. Not a big one, but she's published two books before I was born. I always ask her why we don't ever move out of our house and into a bigger one, but she refuses. Our house used to be Grandmas', but it was given to my mother when she moved in with my other grandma-my dads' mom. It's a bit confusing.

"Yes, actually," she huffs, driving.

I roll my eyes and open my backpack, checking if I have my notes.

Oh, no.

Rifling one last time through the papers, I look up. We're already pulling into the school parking lot.

I let out a groan. "I forgot my notes for the test."

She frowns. "Do you want me to drive you-"

"I'll just borrow them from Kenzie," I quickly say and zip my bag. "Bye, Mom."

In my peripheral vision, she smiles as I get out of the car.

I need to hurry if I wanna catch Kenz before history, I think to myself, glancing at my phone.

With my head low, I speed-walk through the hallways, head throbbing with a headache.

I hit something solid and stumble backwards, going dizzy.

"Ow!"

"Oh god, are you o-Phoebe?"

I try to ignore my head and focus on the person I stumbled into.

Nathan?

I bite back a groan. Why did it have to be him?

Nathan is my childhood enemy. He was always taking my toys off the playground and stealing my seats in class, and he was very smug about it, too. I haven't talked to him since the sixth grade, given that there were no more playgrounds in middle school and he had no more chairs to grab when we had no more classes together. We ended on a rough note, and we still sometimes glare at each other in the halls.

I blink at him, mouth partly open. He has clearly changed a lot since the sixth grade and the blinks of each other. Nathan has brown curly hair, falling into his eyes, and muddy eyes. Clearly he's muscular if I had thought I ran into a wall rather than his chest.

"Um," I slip out. "I'm fine, I have to go."

The bell rings then, but neither of us make a move to go.

"Oh, crap, I need to get my notes from Kenzie," I remember then, out loud, and facepalm myself. She's already in class-and I'm late.

"You can borrow mine," he quickly says, digging through his bag. "History with Reynolds, right?"

"Right," I answer, biting my lip. I probably shouldn't borrow his notes; they must be horrible, but there isn't any time to refuse them when he gives them to me.

"Thanks," I say and don't bother waiting for a reply. I stumble and brush his shoulder, speeding to my class. My headache has gotten worse and the injury he gave to me is clearly not helping.

At least I have notes...

Speaking of which, I look down at them while rushing to history, and to my surprise, they're written quite...nicely.

I crack open the door quietly.

"Miss Davis," Mr. Reynolds booms sternly from his desk, giving everyone a reason to look up.

I flush and sit down in my seat, the test already on the table.